Kochina goes to the White House
*record scratch* Yep, that's me. You're...probably wondering how I got here.
A week ago, like anyone who’s ever received an invitation from the Executive Office of the President of the United States, I was doing Whip-Its on a couch in my friend’s Oakland apartment, watching live concert footage of UK band Death in Vegas (2000) and discussing the prospect of going to the fucking White House between bouts of acute tinnitus (and giggles).
Gripping a flaccid balloon between her thumb and index finger, my friend—an artist, tattooer, and accomplice since we were teens—told me she was proud of me and reminded me that, if nothing else, I have always lived and acted in accordance with my values. My friend’s tiny dog laid on a pillow beside me as I rubbed her oversized ears. While I do my best to accept praise from loved ones in times like this, I had my reservations. I’m an anarchist, a drag queen, and a low-level bureaucrat, and that last thing isn’t even related to this scenario (see disclaimer §).
What the fuck was going on?
I received a call from Dylan Rice a week prior, a colleague from the San Francisco Entertainment Commission—who I’ve partnered with numerous times to develop educational harm reduction resources for nightlife—notifying me that someone from the President’s Office had seen our campaign for Overdose Awareness Month and invited him to participate on a panel for the White House Challenge to Save Lives From Overdose, an event scheduled on October 8th, 2024. He asked if I’d be his plus-one* and if so, he needed to know ASAP because the event was less than two weeks away(!).
As we spoke on the phone, I slid down in my seat with a hand on my head, like a dejected girl in a 90s movie. In this dramatic rom-com fashion, I found myself filled with dread.
Not that it wasn’t, you know, an amazing opportunity. And not that I wasn’t happy for Dylan, or for myself for that matter; this was very cool for both of us. Most importantly, this would GAG the girls.
I was apprehensive for a few reasons. See the footnote ¶ for reasons that would have definitely gotten me un-invited.
But on top of *vague gesture* all that, I was anxious because I’m just doing too much already. My calendar was full for the month before it started. I’ve got commitments, engagements, AND obligations, honey! I’d air out my laundry list, but if you’re like me, just take my word for it as I can’t stand people telling me how busy they are. You and every other person on this planet, diva.
Regardless, I knew it would be tough for me to pencil in a last-minute trip across the country. At this rate I’m never going to finish that library book.
But after spiraling for a few hours, I knew I’d be remiss to ignore the advice from my mentors, who helped me recognize the silver linings and put the importance of this invitation into context. I felt like I owed it to everyone who has supported my advocacy to carry this cause a step further. This was bigger than me; this was about bringing my entire community of harm reductionists into the national conversation, including each of the roughly 4,000 people (mostly queer) who have received Narcan from my project in the past 3 years.
Whether I like it or not, at this point “harm reduction” has become something of my life’s mission, and this administration is the first to use the term. Of course I think harm reductionists should always be wary about our mission being co-opted, but since overdose deaths are affecting mainstream communities just as much as they’re affecting ours, perhaps the experts (us) should provide the messaging whenever possible, as people will otherwise seek information from sources that are less trustworthy on the subject. (And, for the last time, no, you cannot OD from touching fentanyl.)
So I went. And I went in drag. I did not go to speak, but to be seen, which was probably best for everyone. You can watch the event in its entirety on the White House YouTube channel; Dylan’s panel begins at around 1:12:00 and he gives me a shoutout at 1:20:00. (He killed it.)
I confess that I am the type of person who gets majorly stressed before things like this. At first I had difficulty activating the chutzpah associated with my drag persona, which often comes naturally as soon as I plop on a wig (the one I’m wearing was made custom by Loma Prietta). But everyone I encountered was courteous and nobody made any weird comments. I gave my business card to people who may or may not be bluebloods. I even posed for a selfie with a cool White House staffer who already knew me from socials (haha still got it).
I met interesting people who are doing amazing things in other states. I could tell the majority of organizations were not “harm reductionists” per se, though I’m of the opinion that harm reduction philosophy should be integrated throughout the world rather than gatekept, as drug users are not a monolith. Though I resisted certain photo opportunities with Executive Office staff (I don’t think appointed or elected officials should be treated like celebrities), it was neat to chat with them and bring some levity to the occasion; indeed, it felt celebratory. I understood that this was a relatively standard occurrence compared to everything else that happens here, but it was a first for many, if not all—a unique cohort of labor unions, industry associations, and civic programs that have implemented strategies to prevent and reverse overdoses in classrooms, airplanes, churches, jobsites, baseball stadiums, libraries, and nightclubs. I was dumbfounded when the secretary-treasurer of the International Union of Painters and Allied Trades (DC 35) stated that since construction workers are prone to chronic pain in their occupations, they’re twice as likely to experience opioid addiction and fatal overdose deaths compared to other workforces. The thought had never even occurred to me, and my boyfriend literally works in construction!
Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to go to a single museum in D.C. (there are so many! and they’re free!), nor check out the local drag (which I already know is fab). It was a fly-by-night scenario and I tried to keep it a secret until it was over.
The event went well. I had my misgivings. I may still! But I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t go.
And rest assured, reader: my confidence still got the best of me. I didn’t think too hard about the trip until the last minute. As I flipped through my racks of clothing only worn in bars, I started to panic. Girl…WHAT WAS I GOING TO WEAR?!
With 30 minutes to spare, I burst into Out of the Closet on a mission. Frantically yanking blouses by color and style with a determination only seen in competitive sports, I was saved by a mislabeled navy blue two-piece that fit me like a glove. Because of the recent politicization of “drag queens” in this country, I had already decided to go for a lower-case conservative look as opposed to my usual steez. Besides, I didn’t want to seem like I had something to prove; if anything, I’d proven it already.
§ DISCLAIMER: All views expressed here and anywhere under the name Kochina Rude belong solely to the individual and are not reflective of any other entity or person. If you REALLY want some spicy shit, check out my podcast.
*rightly so. Of course I don’t do this for the credit, but sometimes credit is due, and let’s be honest: it was me who did that shit. (I also recruited my more popular bestie Nicki Jizz, hi bitch!)
¶ Frankly, the world is on fire and we are largely to blame. The anniversary of Israel’s systematic decimation of Gaza—literally the world’s most documented genocide—would occur the day before the event we’d been invited to(**), at the same house occupied by the guy signing the checks! The ethnic cleansing of Palestinians by Israel—still ongoing and resulting in at least 42,000 deaths at the time of this writing (in one year)—has been sponsored by the American taxpayers who, not to mention, are still broke and desperate for basic healthcare. Hurricanes are ripping apart the southeast and gulf coasts as we speak, and it is difficult to ignore the $9 billion funding shortfall reported by FEMA juxtaposed with the $9 billion military package earmarked for Israel in the same week(†). The administration’s track record on climate seems decent but moot as long as we still allow corporations to have the same rights as Actual People™, not to mention the current trend of technocratic AI developers ruining our search engines AND the planet at the same time. Capitalism is the problem, folks. Lastly, the event would be hosted by the Office of National Drug Control and Policy (ONDCP), which isn’t the DEA, but it’s not not the DEA. (I’m referring to the historical and necessary relationship between these agencies; I don’t want to diminish the hard work of staffers actively working to promote harm reduction in the highest office.) In my book, to put it politely, the whole thing sounded like robbing Peter to pay Paul.
(**Even if that isn’t technically how it works, it’s pretty fucking damning.)
(†Of course, the loss of 1,200 lives on 10/7 is tragic no matter how you square it; I only ask readers who take issue to consider the duress that has historically lead to the creation of organizations such as Hamas, the desperation of being forced to live in open-air cages for generations, and that Israel’s occupation of Palestine has been a violent apartheid since the first nakba of 1948. I always recommend people watch the 2004 film "Paradise Now” about two Palestinian suicide bombers. And before anyone tries it, I am here because my Ashkenazi great-grandfather fled the pogroms. I qualified for Birthright as a teen but didn’t go because I did 10 minutes of research and have been radicalized ever since.)