Standing behind a velvet curtain, Matthew Conrad used the toe of his size 13 Pleaser Heels to clear a pathway out of the confetti strewn across the club floor.
“Ladies and gentlemen please join me in welcoming our entertainment for the night,” the announcer spoke into a muffled microphone. “She’s strong, independent, and just like the drink, not easy to take.”
The pain coming from his stabbing corset and prodding hair pins disappeared and was replaced by a sense of calm. Conrad took a deep breath as he pushed aside the crushed velvet, and when he exhaled, he stood in the spotlight as Tequila Rose.
During childhood, Tequila always felt more comfortable around feminine energy. Before there was Tequila Rose, there was Matthew Conrad, a young man who had always been a bit different from his peers. Growing up near the Rio Grande Valley, queerness was saved for big cities and movie stars, not little boys with an affinity for the color pink. Conrad envisioned a hard path ahead of him but knew it wouldn’t be impossible.
In the eighth grade, he came to the conclusion that he was gay, and not in the same way as people in films, but in the only way that an awkward middle student could survive. In response, he did what any closeted 13-year-old would do; he joined theatre. His high school theatre teacher Leanne soon became his best friend and a pivotal mentor in his journey of self-acceptance. From Matthew Shepard to Harvey Milk, Conrad lapped up every drop of queer culture that was placed in front of him.
“In my freshman year when I was still coming to terms with my sexuality, I was being assigned a lot of challenging pieces that forced me to confront myself,” Conrad said. “I remember one time when she [Leanne] was giving me all the same material that I wasn’t comfortable with and she said, ‘Well I’m confused…Do you not like men or something?’ From that point on I knew there was no point in trying to run from myself.”
Around the same time, Conrad began participating in speech and debate, which he describes as being the introduction to his “‘Hannah Montana double life.”
“I was a part of all the main school productions, so I already had my own makeup to begin with. Then I would slowly take some wigs from the shop,” Conrad said with a smile. “I would take a little costume here and there then buy some things from the sale section until eventually I’d built a little collection. Then, whenever we would travel for my speech tournaments, I would dress up in the hotel room or put on makeup before taking a shower just so I could have it on for 15 minutes.”
By the end of high school, the f-slur was no longer an insult, and for the creative genius, Conrad began to be respected for his inability to hide in the shadows.
In the fall of 2016, Conrad packed his life into boxes and left home for Texas State University with no idea of what was to come. His days were accompanied by textbooks and nights by “Drag Race” — a drag competition show. That is until he found Stonewall Warehouse. Stonewall stood tall as a representation of unity and acceptance for all of the queer community in San Marcos. The gay club’s thumping base and neon lights acted as a beacon of hope for individuals who had been told their whole lives they were “other.”
With little thought, he signed up for the club’s Tuesday night open call and won the first two lip sync battles, automatically earning him a spot in not only the headlining act but in a world of glamour and community of acceptance.
“I didn’t know what it would lead to,” Conrad said. “But that club opened so many doors for me and made me have an appreciation for what it means to be a part of the LGBTQ+ community.”
Tequila’s first time performing in full drag was the night that Donald Trump got elected president and the night he met his drag “mother,” Cheetah Daniels Kennedy. A drag mother is a drag performer who takes a new artist under their wing and shows them the ropes. While Kennedy was a San Marcos local, she earned her experience in New York City alongside drag legends, making her word fact when she returned to her hometown. That night, while the queer community sought out comfort within Stonewall, Tequila rejoiced in her new life as a “daughter.”
“Cheetah taught us everything about what it means to be a drag queen, what it means to operate a show and, most importantly, what it means to be a lady,” Conrad said. “She [Kennedy] became my Leanne, and I was very fortunate to have her guidance. I’m eternally grateful for her and still love her even though she’s crazy because she’s a Gemini.”
Tequila soon joined a drag group called ‘House of Heaven’ with her sisters, May Magdalene, Veronica Valentine and Mars. The group is now known as The Vixens of Volstead. The group produced and performed monthly shows that were known to shake the Stonewall dance floor.
“We were living a rock star life at the age of 19,” Conrad said.
Former Texas State student Nisa Capati said everyone knew the group and wanted to be just like them.
“Being a closeted lesbian at the time, seeing the House of Heaven perform at Stonewall was the equivalent of seeing Lady Gaga perform at Madison Square Garden,” Capati said.
In 2019, Kennedy left the drag scene, leaving Tequila in charge of Sign-Up Night. The passing of the baton was a full-circle moment for Tequila, that she did not take lightly. Every Thursday for the next year Tequila could be found under the flashing Stonewall lights, leading San Marcos into the future of drag. That is until the pandemic hit, putting drag on a temporary hiatus.
Tequila hosted what would unknowingly be everyone’s last night at Stonewall Warehouse, on New Year’s Eve. While the closure of San Marcos’s only gay club seemed very sudden, Tequila predicted the end of an era as the clock hit midnight.
“It was the perfect recipe, and simply a robbery for everyone who lives in Hays County,” Conrad said. “I think without that building I wouldn’t have had the experiences I did or be as bold, without that push of really getting to explore myself.”
With Stonewall no longer acting as a safe haven, Tequila began to look elsewhere for inspiration. From Dallas to New York, Tequila has taken this time to broaden her horizons and begin to understand what’s next for her, determined to continue her journey of self-discovery.
“I’ve paid my dues, but I think it’s time for Tequila Rose to leave San Marcos and show more of the world what she has to offer,” Conrad said. “And come on… any place I go they’ll always want Tequila Rose.”
