Zelda Ezmarelda Is One Big Love Letter to Women

{Image description: Zelda is performing onstage, wearing black fishnet stockings, knee-length boots and jacket. She has white face makeup with black lipstick. Her black hair is slicked back and green at the ends. In the background there are trees and a sign reading 'Judys'}

The Judys Tasmania Drag Ball 2024 was a life-changing experience for this Editor and Deputy Editor – a inspiring catapult into Lutruwita/Tasmania’s drag scene. We were introduced to many incredible artists that day, but it was drag queen Zelda Ezmarelda (she/her) who stuck fiercely in our minds. As the recent winner of the annual Judge Judy’s Drag Competition in 2024, Zelda cut a striking figure in her signature white makeup and gave a powerhouse performance that had us screaming ourselves hoarse. 

Ava Simpson (he/him) – the man behind Zelda Ezmarelda – grew up in New Norfolk, Lutruwita/Tasmania and, after a brief stint in Melbourne, is back and killing it on the Nipaluna/Hobart drag scene. It was such a delight to spend a few hours with one of the loveliest humans you’ll ever meet – talking about coming out as a queer trans man in high school, experiencing imposter syndrome in the wake of success, the need for sober drag spaces, the impact of Zelda on Ava, and getting comfortable with femininity. 

On Coming Out at Home and School 

{Image description: Zelda is onstage in a black and green striped bodysuit, white makeup and black lipstick. She is posing with one leg bent up behind her, looking at the camera. In the background there is a Progress Pride flag}

I came out as queer, I guess. I never really put on a distinct label when I identified as a woman or a girl – no I'm a lesbian or I'm bisexual or I’m pansexual label because I felt as though any or all of those could be true. I just knew that I was sexually developing, understanding everything around me and everyone seemed like an opportunity. I didn't have a distinct line there. A lot of my friends were already interested in boys and I was like, Why are we not interested in people and girls? I didn’t really get it. I was 12 when I said to my parents, I'm not straight, and they were like, Okay, that's totally fine. So, they were always very okay with that. When I was 14, I was like, I think I'm a boy, and that's been tough for a long time.  

I was about 11 when I was first on the internet – I was never on social media, but I did like reading blogs. I found a blog of someone talking about being a transgender woman and I was like, what the heck? Then I was clicking on all these other people's blogs about being trans men or non-binary people and I read, 'I was born as a woman and I am a man anyways,' and... Oh, that's me! Instantly, it just clicked right away.  

So it took me a few years to mention, when I knew all that time, that I thought I was a boy. And that was really tough for them. Outside of gender, me and my parents have a really difficult relationship, but when it came to gender, I think they had quite a normal reaction of it being a journey for them as well. It took a very long time for them to be completely understanding and use pronouns, but the core idea is that they love me very much and they wanted the best for me. I think this just obviously terrified them, they felt like this would uproot my life. And it did.  

I can’t mention my school by name, but my school was amazing, the principal was amazing. I spoke to her about coming out and she said, Well, if your parents support this decision, we can just make it happen. That school was under the Archbishop of Tasmania and a few years earlier he had sent out flyers about how gay marriage is wrong and we shouldn't be allowing it within our school community. My principal knew it would get back to him, that there was a publicly trans person at the school, so we couldn't access Tassie’s [usual support] systems because that would mean my school would be listed as a school where this could happen, and the Archbishop would not be happy. So the principal got in ‘Working It Out’ [Tasmania’s only LGBTQIA+ support, advocacy and education service] and had someone work with me. They named a program after me about how to transition at this school with no one knowing. 

So it was very difficult because I was the only trans person at all within this school community, or associated  friends, siblings, parents. There was no one that was out at that time – there would of course be countless but no one that was public. So at the very end of Grade 8 they put me in a boys uniform and bada bing, bada boom... 

I would not be here if it wasn't for this school saying, We’re going to go against the system, and each individual teacher who was amazing. There were very few teachers that didn't understand and would ask me rude questions, but my closest network – the principal’s team, the tutor from my house and the head of my house – were all incredibly supportive. If it wasn't for them, I just wouldn't be here. 

My parents took it quite tough for a very long time, but they really have come around. They're still always going to struggle with it because I think it's just a fundamental misunderstanding about a lot of things, but I'm very glad that no matter how tough it was for them, it forced exposure on them.  

My relationship with my nan is not at all difficult in the way that it was with my parents. She never struggled with it. My brother, Jackson, and I pretty much raised each other and Nan was there. We love Nan, she’s my biggest advocate. We had aunties and uncles disagreeing and Nan sending letters to them saying, If you don't get around this, I won't be around you. We won't be family. She's amazing and has a drag name herself. She married for love when she was young and his last name was Ford. Her name’s Eileen. So her name is Eileen Ford. Eileen Ford is a drag name, honey, it's a drag name! So you know, she was always going to get with it... 

On Feeling the Need To Be A Trans Educator 

{Image description: Zelda is wearing black fishnet stockings, knee-length boots and jacket. She has white face makeup with black lipstick. Her black hair is slicked back and green at the ends. She is leaning against a large concrete planter pot and looking up. In the background is a trans flag}

Feeling like an educator as a child is an exhausting thing. You're a child and you're going to school with mental health issues, you're as stressed and depressed as any of those kids that are struggling – and if you are already trans or queer, you're experiencing life and minority stress in a very different way to other kids. So you're already more stressed and ready to break. You're a teenager. You're moody. You want to snap at anyone. You're going through puberty the same as everyone else, so how do you feel when you're this walking encyclopedia in which someone asks you anything about your body and you need to respond 'correctly'. 

You know there are so many other trans people out there and so many online resources and you just want to say, Fucking google it, mate. Google it. I was 11 and found this shit on a blog because I searched the internet. If you're asking me these questions because you care to help my experience be better, find those resources elsewhere, because that's not my job. And if it is out of curiosity, then I'm not here to answer your questions for the fun of it, I’m just trying to live my life as a kid. 

I had adults asking me questions. I had teachers asking me questions. I had canteen staff asking me questions. As a child suddenly thrust into an educator position, you feel as though you have the weight of the view of the trans community on your shoulders – you want these adults, these other kids, to think that trans people are nice and we're not scary and we’re not going to bite your head off. So you educate. You educate, educate, educate and as an adult, I’m exhausted. It's one of the very many reasons why I believe I can't have children, because I spent my whole childhood being an educator, raising myself and raising my brother. So I can't do it all again with a new little human. 

On Experiencing Hate Crimes 

{Image description: Zelda is wearing black fishnet stockings, black boots and a purple bodysuit. She has white face makeup and a long red wig. She has one arm raised and is looking up. In the background there is a Progress Pride flag}

I've been really seriously hurt a few times in hate crimes – very intensely, because I had this strange experience of being put in the boys uniform and having a boys haircut. My high school had a primary school with the same uniform, I was very effeminate and queer and I had a very high voice, so I seemed like a gay little boy. And so there were two instances where I got cornered and hurt by groups of people – slapped across the face or punched by people trying to intimidate and scare me. And there was an instance where I got gay bashed really bad because they perceived me as a young gay man. I had to go to hospital, I had my rib broken, because people thought that I was the worst thing there is to be. 

If you're a woman, you are punished because you're feminine, because that's the worst thing to be. And if you're a queer person who isn't a woman, and you take on any inherent femininity – such as lots of cis gay men – you are the worst thing to be. That’s why our gay men and our trans women are the most harmed and killed members of our community – because people feel as though you've been given the world, you get to be a man, and you've chosen otherwise. So I had that experience growing up, even though I was this AFAB [assigned female at birth] individual and these strangers didn't know it. So I got this weird ‘what it's like to be a young cis gay boy’ experience without being one. 

On Starting Drag 

Crowned Judge Judy's Winner by Pussay Poppins {Image description: Zelda is wearing a green and black striped bodysuit, a crown and is holding a bunch of flowers. She is posing in front of red velvet curtains with Pussay Poppins, who is wearing a red wig and black v-neck gown}

My parents grew up with nothing, but any money they had, they poured into Jackson doing music and me doing dance. I think that when I've been so open about my queerness through my life, at some point they went, this is something we'll never understand [but] we want you to do your thing. They always loved seeing me perform growing up. I always did singing, theatre, dancing. And then me as an adult being, Hey, I'm going to do this thing that is performance, makeup, singing, dancing and it's putting on a character that is to show my queerness, they were like, You're supposed to do that. They can struggle with my transness, but see that drag makes so much sense.  

I was on the phone with Jackson the other day and he was like, You need to send me more drag videos. With all this crap you've done growing up and who you are in your strengths and weaknesses, it feels like you're born to do this. It's weird because so many people feel like they're born to do something because they want it to be their career or their money-maker, their one true thing that they do, and they pursue it forever. But for me, I feel like I was born to do this as a part of my life, and that doesn't need to swallow me whole. 

I love drag being my hobby, and with this year being my reign [as Judge Judy's winner], I'm getting reached out to, to do a bunch of stuff, when I've always been chasing down those opportunities and making them happen. It's a strange switch to have this title now – everyone wants you to do this or we'll pay you to do that. I still very much see it as my favourite hobby. I'm very here for people where drag is their everything, but it isn't for me. But at the same time, I feel as though I was born to do it as one of the big things in my life.  

It can be really tough but it's also fun. We get to call this [drag] a workplace or a part-time job, for so many of us. I think that's just so magical – you go to a club and you get to make people happy. I find it validating and cool when other people enjoy my performances but I  don't care if someone doesn't take my name away from it or care what I do any further. If they show up to the club and see the performance, then they might come back to a Judy’s or they might come back to one of those spaces, because they’ll know there's entertaining things there. 

I experienced so much self-pressure off of this [Judge Judy’s] win – I'm a very anxious person and have a lot of impostor syndrome. So I think the future for Zelda Esmeralda is really experiencing and not getting bogged down in that – at least for the rest of this reign – to try and allow myself to be cockier and sillier about it, and I believe that I'm top shit. Zelda is definitely like that and I'm only now starting to try and embody more of that drag character. I'd love to keep hammering home what I do and make everything bigger and better but I think the future of Zelda is more personal and mental, to let go of this idea that I need to prove to myself that I deserved this win. I did really well at that time and I'm really proud of that and all these flowers I'm being given for it, I should feel as though I deserve it. 

On the Interconnection of Ava and Zelda 

{Image description: Zelda is onstage, wearing black boots, black skirt and a red corset. She has her signature white makeup and slicked back hair. She is looking into the audience with a shocked expression on her face}

I wasn't confident in or out of drag for a long time, aside from literally performing. People always tell me that I ooze confidence that I really don't have – I just fake it! Zelda knows exactly who she is, and she always has. She knows what she's gonna bring. She's gonna bring it because it's already decided. As Ava, I question what I do before I do it, as I'm doing it and after I do it. 

I am so terrified to take up space. I think it's the same as man-spreading versus being a woman on the train. I'm quite naturally small, so I've always been able to weave through crowds and no one knows I'm there – it's easy to make myself very small. Zelda isn't going to take everything she can. She's not like that. She's just, I know what my fair share of space is and I'm allowed to take that up. 

But I can stomp around places a bit more now. Drag is helping me in my personal life, to find confidence – I’m finally starting to bring my drag character off the stage. I can be confident in an Ava way, it doesn't feel like it's only coming from Zelda. I have a quiet confidence when I'm me – Zelda instigated that confidence and it's transferred over. If I can be confident as Zelda, I can be confident as Ava. 

On Drag’s Impact On Mental Health 

{Image description: Zelda is wearing a black latex bodysuit and is posing with hands on her hips, against a background of draped fabric in the trans and pride flag colours}

When I have a goal and something to work towards, it can be really difficult, but it can be so beneficial, it gives me momentum when I'm doing stuff that is difficult for me to do. So organising and listing and sewing and tailoring – it can be so much, but it goes, here's this massive idea for a drag thing that's in a month’s time, how do I divvy it up into all these little chunks? Having little goals all the time in my life, I can't just sit on my arse, I've got something to achieve. It's like, I want to do nothing today but I've got this thing to sequin or sew or I've got this choreography that I really want to nail, so I'm going to do it 25 times. It gives me something to do and that can be really positive. It sets routine. It helps me feel mentally clearer and more real and less disassociated because I have autism. I have really bad sensory issues. I can be quite awkward in things. 

The way autism affects me is through burnout due to how sensory everything is for me. I'm leaving the house – I need sunglasses, I need the right clothes, I need sound help. I need a certain amount of, ‘I can go away into a room and not be perceived by people’. I can have very big breakdowns. So the world itself and leaving my home can be exhausting.  

But drag as a hobby has helped me – there’s so many elements because you're not a dancer, you're not a performer, you're not someone who puts together looks and takes photos of them, you’re not a makeup artist, you are all of these things at once, and you’re doing them all by certain deadlines to help make other people’s jobs easier. So in my spare time that makes me come alive a bit, and not let the burnout get to me. You’d think it would be too much but it really keeps the cogs turning. 

It gives me energy and it helps with my self-assurance. I had a switch earlier this year where I started feeling much better about myself and able to go, oh, if I mucked up this or that, do I feel proud of what I did? And going, yes, it's making me feel good and I am proud of myself because I'm doing all these little things, they’re coming together and I am doing what I want to do. I’m giving people entertainment, when they're walking through the space or they've got something to watch or people that love the art. It's not just a thing to watch for them, it's what they love. These people are enjoying it and I'm enjoying doing it and showcasing it. So it's overall really positive. 

On Drag and Clubbing Culture 

{Image description: A close-up of Zelda in a black shirt and pale pink fingerless gloves. clasping her hands to her chest}

Ooh this is going to be controversial to say... Drag is in the club environment, very often, so there is a big culture of drinking when doing drag. I have nothing personally against that but I will be sure that I'm not getting drunk unless I'm not in drag and I'm just there as a patron. And if I do have a drink, it is always after I'm done performing. And it is genuinely one or two drinks because I want to have my wits about me. 

When we've had performers be uncomfortable and need people kicked out, usually it’s the sober people who are helping do that sort of thing. I don’t want people touching people, I don’t want people feeling unsafe. So we help one another do that and I sometimes feel as though the drinking culture of drag can make it more difficult to ask one another for help.  

What we really want are more drinking-less spaces, sober spaces for drag to exist, for queer events to exist. Queer spaces are not permanent in Tasmania – they are pop-ups, sadly, and they are often club and night-time spaces, not for children and not for people who need to be sober. I can't imagine what it would be like to be in Tasmania and be a queer person going through AA or NA, and you don't want to go into rampant drinking and drug-using spaces, so you can't see drag. You can't go to a strictly queer space.  

So I would love there to be more quiet spaces for queer people to speak. And I would love there to be more sober spaces for queer people to hang out and see drag. It can be big and have music but that music doesn't need to carry through into the conversation space and there doesn't need to be alcohol to make that happen. 

On Starting Drag: Advice for Beginners 

{Image description: Zelda is wearing a green and black striped bodysuit, a crown and is holding a bunch of flowers. She is posing on stage with one arm raised in triumph}

I think it’s taking drag off a pedestal. It is an amazing thing to do. It is really difficult. It is really fun. It is really magical. It is all those things. But we do need to decentre drag queen work, do need to decentre RuPaul's Drag Race being the be all and end all of drag. And you don't need to step onto the scene looking like, sounding like, acting like any of these people.  

We've got a unique opportunity in Tassie – speaking to the Tasmanian people that want to start – where there is more opportunity and less people, so it is a lot easier and a lot less pressure. We've got more development time because we're more communal, we help one another.  

But people in the bigger cities, if they're listening to any advice, it's going to be that you will get there. It will be really difficult because everything around you will point towards hitting the gas right away. It's okay to do development in your spare time first. It’s okay to take a lot of time to get onto the scene. Just don't be discouraged or think that you're going to end up worse than anyone else because you're starting as bad as all drag performers start. There's just this mysticism around it that everyone starts perfect. Being a glamour queen is the thing to be and being a drag queen is the thing to be today, when it doesn't have to be – I just want more and more drag performers as opposed to drag queens.  

But it’s also about being true to yourself. I would love to be a drag king. I would love to be a drag performer, but I am a drag queen... I thought I’d be making it more difficult for myself becoming this woman when I've spent so long distancing myself, as Ava, from being a woman, because that’s not what I am. I've always been a man. But I'm a deeply, inherently feminine person and some people need a place to put that femininity. 

I think becoming a woman [as Zelda] has made me more comfortable with my femininity, letting that shine. I love women, they make the fuckin' world go round. So many people are doing a caricature of women but I think that Zelda is just one big love letter to how amazing and strong women are. And even though I'm not one myself... she is. 

Interview by Piper and JJ Loveday – All photographs by the astounding Millie Crouch @millie.crouch

*This interview has been edited for length and clarity