Dante Cifuentes, 21

Hey, hi, hello. You've found the right page — I'm Dante, yes that's my real name, and no, my wig has never once slipped on the Main Stage, so please stop asking. Friday and Saturday at eleven you'll find me in a nine-foot feather train telling jokes that would make your grandmother call the police and then request 'Summertime.' The rest of the week I'm sewing, gluing rhinestones onto things that did not need rhinestones, and making sure eight other girls eat before doors open. Come early, tip the barbacks before you tip me, and stay for the last number, because I always cry during it and I like company. If you're new to a queer bar and you're nervous, message me and I'll meet you at the door — I've been the scared kid in the parking lot, and somebody was kind to me once, and this is how I pay it back.

— Dante Cifuentes

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