Graphic by Isabelle Abadie
By Isabelle Abadie and Rory O’Connor
As you drive down Broad Street, approach your turn in the parking lot slowly, as it is easy to miss.
The parking lot is small and there are two buildings on either side. The building on the right has a LGBTQ+ flag hanging outside and small colorful stickers on the windows. When you walk up to the door, you will notice a sign indicating that it is open and to knock loudly or call a phone number to be let in.
If you see someone sitting at the desk, feel free to walk in, but do not be surprised if it is quiet and empty up front. Once they greet you, you will sign in on a piece of paper. Write your name, the date, whether or not you have been to the center before, and lastly, your sexual orientation or gender identity.
The desk the worker is sitting at has an open space behind it. Feel free to walk around to where they are sitting and enter the clothing closet.
You will notice many racks filled with all different types of clothing varying in color, style, and size. Other teens may also be looking through bins of chest binders and racks of dresses.
A woman is back there organizing more clothes and bins in the corner. If you look up, you will see shelves of labeled containers filled with makeup, jewelry, stockings, socks, and more. Near the closet entrance, there are cans of food and boxes of mac and cheese.
Everything in this closet is free to take. When you walk down the hallway, you will notice meeting rooms, they are probably filled with adults discussing new legislature and having heated and emotional conversations about new changes to our country.
Open a door, walk down a staircase and you’ll find a large concrete basement. It’s a surprisingly big space, given how small the building looks from the outside.
When you first walk in, you will see a small memorial with a large picture of Nex Benedict with the years 2008-24 underneath their picture. The table behind the memorial is covered in a colorful cloth with artwork and candles, in their memory. To the left, there are tables where teens sit, talking and laughing. Niccolo will tell you that little cliques tend to form where teens just relax and enjoy their conversations. To the left of the stairs are grey lockers. Each door is labeled with different art supplies like “queer yarn and needle craft” and “writing materials.” to the left of Nex’s memorial there is a popcorn machine and a large TV that sits on top of red mechanic style drawers. More teens are sitting and listening to music that plays on the TV and engaging in conversations.
This small, sacred place is the LGBTQ+ center of Durham.
For some, it’s a place to hang out and find friends with similar interests. But for Niccolo Roditti, community psychologist, co-director of the Durham LGBTQ+ youth center, bearded queen, fashion icon or Kali Fuchis (in drag), it’s so much more than that.
Born in Ecuador, Roditti moved to Rhode Island at the age of three. They attended middle and high school in Charlotte before attending undergrad at NC State.
Roditti majored in psychology and international studies and furthered their education at Vanderbilt’s master’s program in Nashville.
After graduating college, Roditti found their way into the world of drag after making friends with other queens and eventually being persuaded into doing a show.
Another drag artist, Stormie Daie, used to always ask, “When are you getting in drag, when are you going to do it?”
Drag can be a big unknown to those outside of the community, as it challenges traditional gender and social norms. Roditti emphasizes that drag is many different things to each person and that it does not need to be complicated.
“The best way to look at drag is that it’s just a tool for empowerment,” Roditti said.
Drag is a creative outlet and can also be a way into the world of sewing, fashion, makeup, thrifting, and other crafts. But for Roditti, it’s always been more than just art, makeup, and carefully curated outfits. It’s been a way for them to fully understand themself.
“It unlocked a lot of things for me. One of those things was Kali,” they said.
The name Kali Fuchis is a play on the singer Kali Uchis’ name, Fuchis in Spanish means “stinky little kid.” In indigenous culture there is an identity with a duality of spirits. This allows for expression from both male and female spirits in one person.
This form of expression allowed them to understand what parts of them were being suppressed and acknowledge the feminine energy they felt their whole life.
“I thought I was a 28-year-old New Jersey club smoker,” Roditti said.
Roditti describes their family and upbringing as spiritual, herbalistic and Catholic.
“When you feel this duality of spirits, you can’t necessarily claim both because you didn’t grow up in that indigenous culture,” they said.
Naming Kali was a great way for them to verbalize and express a side of themselves in a way that makes sense. Growing up, Roditti idolized female icons from Nicole Richie to Rosalia.
A common conception of drag art and the life of a queen is that it is just a character or a costume only portrayed or worn when working a gig. But Kali is not just around for drag shows or gigs. Kali goes out in everyday life at least once a week, otherwise they describe that they start to become more “dysphoric” and “dissociative.”
Roditti feels no need to succumb to societal expectations or norms. They encourage youth to find comfortability in what they are doing and to not let outside media and opinions tear them away from their identity.
“Yeah, you can tell me all of those things, but in my head I’m on a 2004 world tour with Fergie,” they said, “that will never change.”
According to the Human Rights Campaign, Drag is a performance art that uses costumes, makeup and other tools as an exaggerated form of gender expression and to imagine a more transformational future.
The origins of Drag Queens and shows can be traced back to the late 19th century during a pivotal time for LGBTQ+ individuals in the United States. In the 1880s, drag balls were held in Washington, DC. These balls were organized as a safe space for self-expression and community. The gatherings became the beginning of Drag culture.
A BBC article titled ‘The history of drag and historical drag queens’ credits increased recognition of this specific part of the queer community to protests and movements in the 60’s and 70’s against police raids at gay bars. The Stonewall Riots of 1969 and the queer student unions formed on UC Berkeley’s campus are some of the biggest examples of the evolving demographic.
Additionally, the article credits more of the 21st-century drag culture to the first drag race, which aired in 2009: RuPaul’s Drag Race. The show allowed contestants to compete in a series of challenges, costume creations, and performances on television.
Drag is part of a much larger queer community.
LGBTQIA+ is an umbrella term used to describe diverse sexual orientations and gender identities. These are all different terms people use to identify and label their gender identity and sexual orientation. The acronym term purposefully excludes heterosexual or cisgender labels.
Since its increased usage in the 20th century, the term has given people in the queer community a way to separate themselves from traditional sexual orientations as well as give many individuals the confidence they need to present themselves as the most authentic versions of themselves.
The term was first developed in the 1990s by queer activists and started as only LGB. The terminology later shifted to LGBT as transgender people became more accepted in the movement and society in general.
Eventually, the term queer became widely used as a more inclusive umbrella term that allowed for more interpretation and experimentation and began to include Drag.
Drag has found a specific space in Durham because of the community’s high level of inclusivity compared to surrounding communities like Oxford or Graham Counties.
House of Coxx, a crucial part of Durham’s drag community, was established in 2013. Throughout the years, the house has organized many events, including a weekly ‘drag brunch’.
The inclusive environment of Durham draws drag, but it also creates a safe environment for all members of the LGBTQIA+ community to be themselves, even at Riverside.
Riverside senior Quinne Rizzuto is a student athlete, president of Riverside’s Democrats Club and self-described adventurous person who is passionate about farming.
Rizzuto also identifies as nonbinary.
Someone who is nonbinary doesn’t associate with either gender. People who are nonbinary tend to go by they/them pronouns or use all pronouns.
Rizzuto’s identity goes deeper than gender roles in society. Their identity helps the side of them that is a helper, and extending that to other people.
They see other people in places they once were, trying to figure themselves out and going through the same processes.
“Obviously, I don’t know exactly who I am,” Rizzuto said. “It’s a big question, and I don’t know if anyone knows exactly who they are, but I think it’s a good thing, and I think it’s why I like going on big adventures because I get to learn more about myself and spend time with myself.”
Quinne is not their birth name. They made the switch in 2020 because it validated themself.
“Growing up, I always liked the name Quinne, and I was like, ‘oh I’m going to name my kid Quinne and then I realized, ‘oh, that’s actually supposed to be me.’”
Without using the words feminine and masculine to describe a sense of style, Rizzuto takes on a more artistic, outdoorsy, earthy vibe in their fashion.
They like fair trade jewelry because when someone compliments the piece, it comes with a story. Their go-to piece in completing an outfit is their Converse and a bandana.
“I grew up not knowing what being gay was, not knowing what trans was, I did not know any of these things in middle school…growing up in a very religious family, those kinds of things were not talked about.” While the sex of a body is science, the gender roles in society are man-made.
While some try to battle these gender norms, it always comes with traditional pushback. The Parental Rights in Education Act prohibits teachers in Florida from educating students on sexual orientation and gender identity. The lack of acknowledgement and freedom for students to explore their identities reinforces traditional gender roles.
Rizzuto acknowledges that no matter how they dress, it will be taken as more masculine or feminine by society. This makes finding outfits that come across as “nonbinary” more difficult to find. They worry that certain pieces will come with being addressed by different pronouns. Rizzuto sees fashion as an art, it is unique to every person.
“I wish I could dress however I want and not be perceived differently,” they said.
