The Original Drag Queen: How William Dorsey Swann’s Rebellion Lives On
A Conversation with Tamar-kali
On Juneteenth, I sat down with composer and punk rock artist Tamar-kali to talk about lineage, rebellion, and the radical act of gathering. What emerged was a conversation about William Dorsey Swan, the complexities of state-sanctioned holidays, and how we're continuing traditions of resistance through the spaces we create.
Ora Wise: Tamar-kali, I've loved and admired you for years, and I see you as a fellow traveler on this path of building original containers for the work we feel called to do. On Juneteenth, it felt powerful to talk about invoking our queer and trans ancestors. You had some things to say about this day itself—can you start there?
Tamar-kali Brown: You know, most people don’t know what Juneteenth actually is, but the fact that it's now a federal holiday brings up some cultural challenges and contradictions. This was pushed through Congress during summer 2020, and it commemorates when Union troops went to Galveston to make the Emancipation Proclamation practical law. That's very specific to Texas.
I'm of Gullah Geechee ancestry. My people were liberated in 1861 when slave-owning families fled before Sherman's march to the sea—many slave owning families actually went to Texas as a safe haven during this time. But here's what people don't understand: the Emancipation Proclamation only liberated folks in rebel states. Everyone in slave states that stayed with the Union—like Maryland, where William Dorsey Swan was born—weren't free on Juneteenth. They weren't free until the 13th Amendment was fully ratified in December 1865. And even then, not really free because of the carceral loophole. The 13th Amendment abolished slavery "except in the instance of the carceral system." So what I would prefer instead of Juneteenth is a day America could celebrate the complete abolishment of slavery. But we can't (yet), because it was never completely abolished.
Ora: Which brings us to William Dorsey Swann—someone who was born into slavery and wasn't liberated as of Juneteenth because Maryland wasn't a rebel state. Tell everyone who he was.
Tamar-kali: William Dorsey Swann is the first documented person to identify as what we now call a drag queen. I came across research by historian Channing Gerard Joseph about these raids conducted on Swann's house in DC around 1888. This was proto-ball culture—we talk about balls starting in Harlem, but really it's an extension of Black American grand rag culture, the African American Cake Walk, ragtime, leading into our queer ancestors having their grand rag balls.
They believe the term "drag" comes from "grand rag balls." And what made Swann such a critical touchpoint is that his parties were mixed race—men of different socioeconomic classes and races mingling together. That's what really set law enforcement on fire.
Ora: Men of different races not only gathering but wearing dresses! Transgression on every front —race, class, gender expression.
Tamar-kali: One tale tells of a police raid at one of Swann’s parties – they were confused by all these gorgeous frocks. They grabbed Swann and one officer said, "You're no lady!" And Swann shot back: "And you is no gentleman!"
They kept raiding his place, eventually charging him with "conducting a disorderly house"— the brothel charge. He did time, even wrote to President Grover Cleveland asking for a pardon (which was denied). It was a whole family affair too—his brother sewed his dresses, there was a whole scene of transgression on multiple levels.
Ora: I love thinking of this as part of the lineage we’re tapping into through Queer Aperitivo. Swann was a rabble-rouser who hosted, right? He was creating spaces for play and sensuality and expression and joyful gathering — that was his rebellion. Truly radical hospitality.
Tamar-kali: Yes! And the piece I'm composing about him is focused on community and intimacy. When I recorded a suite from it this week, one of the players asked what the full orchestration would be, and I said: "It is not meant to be an orchestral spectacle. This is a small chamber piece (piano, violin, contrabass) because it's about community and intimacy. These were house parties. That’s the story Im telling"
When we get to full production, I want to make sure we still convey that sense of intimacy and community, not prepare it for an ‘outsiders’ gaze to make it more palatable. It's about congregation.
Ora: Aperitivo is literally a ritual of congregating too. That’s why I love it and chose it. And that's so key—not commodifying these stories or making them spectacles. I think about how even marginalized communities, when we're given a platform, we often feel pressure to perform these stories as if they're totally separated from the intimate web of relationships they actually came from.
Tamar-kali: Exactly. And you know, I'm always trying to trace myself through previous trailblazers, rabble-rousers. I want to know my family tree of outsiders, rebels, transgressors. It's work that brings you more to yourself when you know you're not isolated, that you're walking a road that's been walked before.
Ora: There's such a direct through line—the criminalizing of queer and trans folks, the policing of gender norms, the pathologizing of our identities. But also the positive through line of creating community by any means necessary, practicing freedom even when it's dangerous.
Tamar-kali: And in this scary time for artists, when funds are being rescinded from institutions, I keep saying: "If you ain't gonna be making no money, you might as well be making some art." The grind has stopped for some of us, but the practice doesn't. This is the opportunity to dig in on projects that mean the most to you.
Community has been key in building this work. You don't know who you really are until you get a seat at the table, and it's so important to identify people within your community who can take that walk with you into different spaces you may gain access to while maintaining your values and principles and integrity.
Ora: Truly. You have to know who you’re accountable to and who can help you navigate the slippery slopes of the art or food or whatever worlds you’re moving in, keeping you honest and true to your principles.
William Dorsey Swann threw dress up house parties that were not just that – they were liberatory space, they were queer community building, they were revolutionary. We're hosting aperitivo gatherings that build community wealth and cultivate solidarity, while sipping on perfectly crafted Negronis. The lineage continues.
Learn more about Tamar-kali's work and the William Dorsey Swan chamber piece at https://www.tamar-kali.com/and watch the beautiful digital short of the opera.
And join us June 25 at Honey’s (6p-midnight) for our collaboration with Caotica.