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What’s in a name? How I got mine.

2:57 pm Wednesday, 20th May, 2020

What’s in a name? How I got mine.

Our names are there to identify us, but for a performer, they identify us, they’re our brand. Our name is the ‘first contact’ point for us, it has to conjure our image into the head of anyone who hears it and, if you’re lucky, it’ll be the name on T-Shirts and other merchandise. Not a shameless plug, I promise. At least not yet.

As real people, we don’t often get to choose a our names and if you ask most people, they often hate their own. My mother saddled me with a Welsh name, which I feel sounds clumsy and inelegant, not because I have anything against the Welsh (quite the opposite, I’m very proud of my Welsh heritage which is probably the origin of my singing voice and my temperament) but I just never felt it was… me. There are some lovely Welsh names out there, but she just happened to give me one I’m not fond of. Perhaps those who don’t like their name have subconscious associations with people saying it to them disapprovingly in their youth as either a mischievous child or teenager caught making poor choices and the disapproving, negative tone colours our feelings of the name. Believe me, I have been that mischievous child AND that teenager caught making poor choices more than a few times, so am no stranger to my name being said in a condescending or disapproving tone. But aside from the tone I’ve heard it said in too many times, there’s also the constant misspellings (there is only one spelling of my name, yet people seem to get it wrong a lot) or getting it wrong completely, or ‘can I call you…’. No, you can’t, because that’s not my name. Phew, slight rant over.

But like it or not, your name is your first identifier and one of the great things about being a performer is not having to use your birth name. Of course, some folk go and have their name legally changed for day to day use, but this is fairly rare in the general population. So, obviously, I needed a stage name. If I turn the clock right back to my teens (if only I knew then what I know now) I really wanted to be a singer, but the idea of drag hadn’t really sparked for me yet. I recently found some old diaries where I’d practice my autograph with a new and fancy, celeb sounding name, but none of them felt quite right. It wasn’t until years later with the first forays into drag that name picking would be a real decision.

Back when I was nineteen, which now feels fairly shortly after the invention of the wheel, but at the same time strangely recent, I moved to Gran Canaria to start a new life and swore never to return to my old home. I mean, who wouldn’t want to spend their life in fabulous weather where it only rains fifteen days a year, where there’s cheap booze, endless adventure and a gay scene that’s one of the biggest in Europe? It sounded like the perfect life (I only lasted six months before homesickness and lack of funds got me). But this would be the environment where I dipped my toe into the world of drag for the first time – Not including those times as a child where I’d sit at my mother’s dressing table and make an unholy mess with her makeup collection. Sorry about that. Actually, at least now I know what NOT to put on my face, so thanks! In hindsight, it shocks me that me coming out was a surprise to anyone after some of the things from my childhood – Stealing a white lace tablecloth to sing and re-enact ‘Like A Virgin’ at about five, doing makeup tutorials in the mirror before makeup tutorials or YouTube even existed, skipping and dancing about and bursting into song at any moment. Even the hand on the hip or fabulous poses I seem to strike in every old photo. Really? People were actually surprised?

Over there, particularly in the huge gay nightlife centre, the Yumbo, there are all kinds of queens all over the place of every type and every level, so when we opened our little bar, my friend and I decided we’d have a go. In a giant centre with about sixty bars in close proximity, ‘door whores’ are a very necessary thing, milling around outside in an attempt to entice customers into their establishment (great, now that makes me sound like some kind of cheap trollope! But notice I deny nothing). As I always say about that time, I’m so glad we didn’t have cameras in those days. The wigs were cheap and the makeup skills practically non existent, but at the time, we thought we rocked it. Then, because we didn’t actually know any queens personally at that point, we thought the way to choose your drag name was some sort of ‘first pet and mother’s maiden name’ combo and so I became Smokie Roberts. Not the worst, far from the best. It wasn’t until years later I realised that it would take much more thought and reflection to really decide, but at that point, it was literally us messing around rather than a solid career choice.

Fast forward a couple of years, back home, I was asked to perform at a charity concert and decided to have another go at drag (I still don’t actually know how I found myself in that situation, but I remember it was in a church and I lost my skirt halfway down the aisle). That night, I sang as Miss Candi Floss, mainly because I had a cheap, but huge, pink Afro wig. So big in fact, a friend later wore it as a dress on one occasion! That name didn’t fit and this was a one off performance, still not a career, so that was quickly (hopefully) forgotten about.

A few years after that, a new LGBT centric bar was opening in my home town, a sister venue to an already popular one around the corner, was opening and the owners encouraged several of us to drag up for the grand opening. I had no name, but I looked…. Interesting. I’d begged my mother to sew three cheap sequin tube tops together to make some sort of ill advised minidress and I’d purchased a cheap feather headdress and wore no wig, instead covering the back of my head with cheap feather boas woven into the straps of the headdress. The makeup still hadn’t developed and the look was questionable. Better than any I’d done before, but still just… incorrect. But what a night that was!

A few months later, that same outfit got another outing at a charity night in a pub. This time, I was booked and paid and was the star of the show, finally doing what I’d always dreamed, so of course, I’d need a name! I agonised for days over the right choice and eventually settled on…. Coco Canal. Actually not a bad name for a comedy queen, but for a singing queen, you tend to want something more glamorous than a euphemism for bum hole. This was young me, classy as ever! Now, it’s a reasonably well known fact that wordplay, clever or not, is a well used tool for drag queens picking their names. Names that sound like something else or have a different spelling or a joke of some kind. It’s a great tool and I’ve heard some brilliant ones over the years! I actually think that if I was still looking for one, Areola Grande might have been a good one or perhaps Ivana Sashay.

So, realising that I wasn’t really a comedy queen so probably wouldn’t suit a funny name, I ended up, for some reason, going with Vonda Cox. Yeah, that didn’t really go according to plan, especially after searching the name and found out it’s actually quite a common drag name across the world. I was actually just starting to really get into the drag thing and happened to introduce myself (dressed in my boy clothes) to a couple of queens I met while on a city break and when I said my drag name, they laughed as said someone they knew had shagged a drag queen with that name and there was some sort of funny or embarrassing story. That’s it, it had to go!

So here I was, back at square one. Suddenly actually owning a decent amount of starter drag and having decided this was what I wanted to do and was the missing link with trying to turn singing and entertaining into a job. With potential gigs coming up, I needed to move fast, but at the same time didn’t want to rush it. I couldn’t be a professional drag queen and change my name every week, this one had to be it. My name. My brand. Then, after about a week, I was doodling and happened to start with a V. The V felt natural and familiar as I’d already had one drag name beginning with V, so it just stayed. Eventually, Vida just happened. It’s means ‘life’ in the Latin languages, so it seems appropriate as it’s given me a new one – or rather, completed my existing one. Then LaFierce just popped out of nowhere once I’d decided on Vida. The whole combo was glam, slick and had everything I wanted. What’s more, it was mine. I’ve never doubted my name for a second. That was the cherry on top of my creation and brought with it a sense of completion and now, there simply isn’t time to look back! Not that you ever should.

So, it was quite a journey to pick my name, a bit like picking your identity. But I suppose the lesson is, nothing is really ever set in stone and you can change your identity if you want to make yourself more comfortable. Not for anyone else – NEVER for anyone else, but for you. If you want to tweak or completely change something in your life, the choice is yours, the POWER is yours. Things can be changed, people can change and we’re all constantly evolving. I’m not saying everyone has to rush out and do drag, or change their names or identities completely (though, I always say everyone should try drag at least once, but that’s a different story). If something’s not quite fitting right in your life, make a change. It doesn’t have to be right first, second, or even third time, but eventually, you’ll figure out what’s right for you. And that’s the real journey we’re all on.

Til next time, stay safe, stay sane, stay connected and of course…. Stay VIDALICIOUS!

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