Kitty Litter (Much Ado About Remaining True to Yourself)

Don't shit where ya eat!   Long before I knew everybody's grandmother or daddy had supposedly coined this all encompassing wise phrase, Junebug Guice used it to much aplomb and effect when she delivered it in the kitchen I was working in during my college days.   She had many little sayings that undoubtedly were hers that still stick with me to this day; but no matter who originated the saying, I still maintain that it is a wise truth to be heeded even during the most tempting sexually fraught moments of your life.   Say, fudging your boyfriend's best friend.   Not that I would have anything to do with that kind of behavior (wink wink); but needless to say, and I know it comes as a shock to most since I'm such a true Southern Belle of epic grace and grand sweeping style with an  unparalleled blessing of gentility found only in the most delicate dew kissed morning glory!  (Clearing throat and pausing for any potential lightening bolts descending upon my precious lil ole curly top!)   BUT allegedly, and I'm just saying, theoretically I might have been around that proverbial block once or twice, got dizzy, got lost and perhaps shit where I ate!   As Dolly as my witness if any of that did happen I most undoubtedly was drugged by a communist yankee and cannot be held totally responsible!

However, even if we do shit where we eat, at some point we have to own our shit.   There is no use in faking a case of the vapors and playing coy with the Rhett Butler's of this world; because honey it will come back and sting you in the ass harder, madder and faster than a yellow jacket in heat!

Beyond dealing with our actions and learning from our mistakes we have to also guard ourselves against those who wanna change us and perhaps mold us to their framed picture of us in their mind.   Owning our shit goes a long way in getting to know ourselves better and getting to know ourselves helps us respect ourselves and protect ourselves against the false prophets and stanky tallywhackers out there!

I am not talking about putting up walls and hardened barriers against relationships; but it sure helps to know thyself.

When I first began doing drag I was overweight by drag standards and was traditionally not looked upon as a show stopping possibility.   So when I took hold of an amateur night opportunity I was able to show those who counted, anyway, that beneath my size 16 dress I might have some potential as a performer.   Needless to say I paid close attention to make up tips, dance tricks, stage gestures, etc.   I began to get booked regularly enough and I began to get notice from audience members as well.   I had many opinions on how my stage personae, Kitty Davis, should act, look, weigh..........you name it some queen or queen groupie had an answer.   I listened to a lot of it, did a lot of it and some of it was good advice but a good bucket full of it was bullshit.   I realized I was the one being sent out there to be the clown or the Phyllis Diller.   I love Phyllis Diller and she is a trail blazing original, however, she chose to be Phyllis Diller, I was being  told to be Phyllis Diller to essentially make the other queens look pretty and talented.   Whether this was intentional or not, when I had enough I realized Kitty Davis had to be MY Kitty Davis.

The loose bead that unraveled my pageant gown was a conversation that I had on a long midnight drive back from a pageant somewhere in the South.   The conversation was with my bar owner who was booking me at the time.   He essentially told me my only chance of continuing in drag and becoming a regular in shows was to take his advice and be the fat funny one.   "Accept your limitations," he told me.   Surprisingly I never got mad, but what he said to me resonated deep within and hurt this ole tough bird.   When he suggested that I change my name to "Pussy Litter," and become a raunchy punch line on stage I drew the line and begin to withdraw from that particular venue.   I think my name appeared once as Pussy Litter and after that show I refused to be booked any further with that name.   A certain life long friend helped me see that.   It sure wasn't all my "self awareness," at the time.   She told me that essentially "Pussy Litter," sounded like a nasty washed up freak pole dancer in a low rent strip club in Alabama.   No offense to my 'Bama boys, (smooches boyz) but that image was enough to jerk me awake.   I only won two tiaras in my time; but at least one was won by my own will and determination not some one else's interpretation.

Still years later I come back to this story even though I'm not in drag as it helps to keep me grounded.   I had a fabulous smashing run as Kitty Davis (which is trade marked and copyrighted bitches so don't even think of taking it)......BUT......Kitty still much remains within me and her claws of steel come out anytime this magnolia is being shaken and chopped on.   Kitty Davis later took control of that shitty incident and did a pretty good couple of years using Litter in various forms for show titles and eventually a weekly show titled The Litterbox with Kitty Davis.  (Which is also trademarked queens, so don't even think it!)   It was my way of taking back some power.   Grabbing that power helped me shed the needed pounds and eventually gave me a healthy inside and outside.   Now just like Jack and Jill I have fallen down and crashed my crown(s); but ya know each time you pick yourself up from a fall, damn if ya don't heal a little stronger!