Tales from the Rainbow Throne — A Spoken Word Piece
The children gather in a hush.
A soft spotlight brushes a plush rainbow rug.
From behind the velvet curtain enters a vision—
heels clicking, lashes blinking like galaxies.
Big.
Beautiful.
Betty.
She settles into a glittered rocking chair, adjusts her crown of chrysanthemums, and
opens a rhinestone-covered book.
“Good morning, my darlings,” she purrs.
“Today’s story is older than time.
It’s about love.
About truth.
And how—when the world got tired and mean—
God showed up in something fabulous
just to remind us what beauty really means.”
A hand shoots up: “Which God?”
Betty grins.
“Oh, honey—whatever name you call Love by.
Some say God.
Some say Spirit.
Some just say Wow.
I say yes.”
She winks.
“And sometimes, when the world forgets how to be kind—
that Wow shows up in heels.”
Another child asks: “Is this a real story?”
Betty chuckles.
“Sweetheart, drag is just a fancy word for dress-up.
But not the kind where you hide—
the kind where you reveal.”
“Every day, people drop and drag themselves through life—
dragging their feet, dragging their dreams,
dropping pieces of who they are just to fit in.
Now that’s a drag.”
“But drag—real drag—is choosing your sparkle.
It’s truth with tassels.
Courage with contour.
Telling the world,
‘This is me—on purpose.’”
She smooths her skirt.
“We are all God in drag.”
Then she begins.
“Once upon a no-time,
there was a world afraid of difference.
Where color was boxed, and boys were blue, and girls were pink,
and anyone who glittered in between was called… too much.”
“And the girls who liked tree forts more than tiaras?” Betty grins.
“Oh baby, they glitter too—just in muddy boots.”
Into that world stepped the Divine—in sequins and sass—
to say: Your weird is holy.
You don’t have to fit in to belong.”
She reads stories where:
- A lonely prince becomes a fabulous queen to save a forest.
- A princess trades her tiara for a sword and leads bees to reclaim the trees.
- A little trans unicorn teaches dragons to cry.
- A boy in a tutu outdances a tyrant.
Giggles and gasps fill the room.
Then Betty grows still.
“But some stories don’t end in giggles.
Some classmates disappear.
Some families are taken.
There is fear at the school bus stop.”
“But here’s what they don’t teach in civics class:
Your joy is a form of resistance.
Your love, a kind of rebellion.
Your very presence—holy disruption.”
“There will be days you feel invisible.
But remember: stars don’t disappear when the sun comes out.
They’re still there.
So are you.”
“The world may try to shrink you.
To shame your shine.
But don’t you dare dim.
The world needs your different.
Your magic.
Your you.
And whenever you feel alone…
close your eyes, spin once, and whisper:
God is in drag—and lives in me too.”
Poetic Coda
Some say we come from stars.
But I say—
we are the glitter God left behind.
Your truth is not too loud.
Your love, not too strange.
You are a spell the world forgot it needed.
A whisper from the womb of creation.
So dance.
Paint.
Sing your name like scripture.
You, my darling—
You are the sermon.
And the stage.
And the saving grace.
