Wayne Allingham is the only cerebral palsy drag queen in the UK. He told Chat magazine about his experiences.
A Boy Who Loved Dresses
Flower skirts, pretty prints, and cute cardies hung in the wardrobe. Picking out a twirly dress, I pulled it on. Swishing from side to side, I admired my reflection in the mirror. Then I heard footsteps on the stairs.
“Get that off!” Mum snapped, bursting in. With a loud tut, she hung the dress back inside my sister’s wardrobe. I shuffled out of the room, my right leg dragging behind me.
It was 1979, and at age 5, I knew I was different—and not just because I was a boy who liked dressing up in girls’ clothes. I was born with hemiparetic cerebral palsy, which caused weakness in the right side of my body. My right arm, hand, and leg didn’t work properly.
A Difficult Start in Life
Hours after my birth, my real mum had left me in an incubator. “I can’t cope,” she had said. Thankfully, my grandparents stepped in and adopted me.
Now, though, I struggled to walk. When I wasn’t sliding around on my bum, I used callipers—huge metal contraptions that went up my legs to my waist to help me stay upright. Doctors said I’d need a wheelchair by 30, but I was determined to prove them wrong.
By my teens, I’d ditched the metal. I walked with a limp. People stared, but I learned that humour was the best way to make them see past my disability. I laughed off the sudden spasms that made my leg and arm jerk. “There she goes, my gammy arm,” I joked to my mates. I loved making people smile.
Discovering Drag
By the age of 17, I’d come out as gay. One night, I snuck into a club where my friend was performing. “It’s a drag act,” he told me. “You’ll love it.” I sniggered—an average-looking bloke like him, all glammed up?
But watching him step on the stage as Miss Ross, transformed by a huge wig and sky-high heels, I was transfixed. Halfway through singing Shirley Bassey’s hit Big Spender, Miss Ross pulled me up on stage. Heart thumping, I looked out into a sea of faces.
“Watch the gammy leg,” I chuckled into the mic. Miss Ross threw a big blonde beehive on my head and pulled a glittery dress over my drab trousers and shirt. Suddenly, I was 5 years old again, playing dress-up in my sister’s room. Only this time, no one was telling me no.
Grabbing the mic, I launched into ABBA’s Waterloo. The audience cheered loudly. “That was the best night of my life,” I exclaimed after.
“See you again next week,” Miss Ross winked.
Becoming a Comedy Queen
Over the next year, I went back to perform drag as often as I could. I built up a collection of wigs and dresses, chuckling to myself as I put on six-inch stilettos. Couldn’t walk? I was walking in heels!
I made a name for myself as a comedy queen. On stage, I felt confident and forgot all about my disability—not that I tried to hide it. When I struggled to stand, I’d sit on a chair.
“Have you met my special friend?” I’d grin when my arm or leg started to shake. I made a spectacle of my “gammy leg,” entertaining the crowd.
Hanging Up the Heels
But when I met my first serious boyfriend, he didn’t like my feminine alter ego. So I hung up my heels. I got a job as a bingo caller, food and beverage manager—anything to pay the bills. Still, the feminine side of me was bursting to get out. I was desperate to make people laugh.
Sugar Cube is Born
In 2010, I spotted an ad for a drag queen talent show. Newly single, nothing was stopping me. I pulled my dresses out of retirement and squeezed my 5ft 5in frame into a slinky silver sequinned dress.
With my one good hand, I spent hours doing my make-up—sparkly eyeshadow, fake lashes, and bold pink lips. A huge curly blonde wig was piled high on my head. Gorgeous!
As I tottered on stage in six-inch black wedges, my right leg dragged behind me. Bright, hot lights shone down on me. It’d been years since I’d last done this, and I worried my nerves might get the better of me.
But out of nowhere came my alter ego. “You are fabulous,” she told me. So I put on my best posh, womanly voice and started to natter away. I had just a few minutes to conquer the crowd, so I told my best stories and jokes. When laughter filled the room, I relaxed.
I danced and sang. That night, my alter ego, Sugar Cube, was born. I’d always had a sweet tooth, so it was the perfect drag name. Sugar loved the limelight, the glam, and the glitz. Motherly, a bit old-fashioned, she was a cut above the rest.
Championing Inclusion
I started performing regularly as Sugar. I had more than 50 different wigs kept in boxes or displayed on stands in my bedroom and a wardrobe full to bursting with Sugar’s bodices, sequinned dresses, jumpsuits, and ball gowns.
Doing drag was so fun. But I also wanted more representation for disabled people in the community. In 2019, I launched my own club night for LGBTQIA+ people with disabilities. I even became a campaigner for people with lifelong disabilities such as cerebral palsy by getting involved in the Adult Cerebral Palsy Movement.
Policymakers, healthcare providers, and the wider community need to recognise the long-term needs of people like me. Sugar helped me promote that message and gave me the confidence to speak up for other disabled people.
A Supportive Partner
In September 2020, I married my partner, Paul, then 52. He’s my biggest supporter, and he loves Sugar!
Now 50, my “gammy leg” is finally catching up with me. My limp is getting worse, so I’ve hung up the heels again. But this time, Sugar isn’t going anywhere.
The Next Dream
My next big dream is to appear in panto. I’d make the perfect dame, don’t you think?
I’ve had a lifetime of people telling me I can’t do things. Well, guess what…
Oh yes I can!