FIGHTING THE BINARY: “D.R.A.G.” AT CMU

Thanks to Pharaoh DeeNile (@pharaoh_deenile), drag artist and President of CMU PRISM, Edgewood Magazine is officially going to college!

On Friday, February 28th, the queerest class of all is in session at Carnegie Mellon University. D.R.A.G. (Destroying Rules About Gender) is more than just a showcase, it's a rebellion against the expectations forced upon us. The night kicks off with performances by entertainers on the Edgewood staff—including our web designer and CMU alum Ixi Azuli—alongside two of Pittsburgh’s most brilliant drag icons, Joey Young and Warren Munroe. But this isn’t just about the stage. After the show, artists will lead workshops, from prosthetics with Gwendolyn Kollins to padding with Indigo Sparks and king/thing makeup with Malacunt LaFoole and Zion Grindr. More than a performance, D.R.A.G. is a space where queerness is celebrated, taught, and shared.

I sat down with our hosts, our very own Zelda Kollins, and of course, the king of the hour, Pharaoh.

Pharaoh DeeNile has been doing drag for a little under a year. His first performance as a host began at CMU, with himself introducing an art show as Steve Harvey, and his classmate as Dr. Phil. They started their college journey on the sorority girl path, but in their final year, realized that there was something more to their identity. For most of his life, Pharaoh knew he was queer—but he wasn’t sure how to exist as himself. Before coming to Carnegie Mellon, queerness felt like something to hide, something that existed only in the margins of his life. He spent years as someone visibly queer in a heteronormative world, yet it wasn’t until joining CMU PRISM that he truly felt what it meant to embrace that identity.

“I always knew I was gay, but I didn’t want to be loudly gay… I’m already a POC. I had to be queer in a hostile environment, and you could always tell without me saying anything.”

Coming from a conservative Egyptian background, Pharaoh was never given the space to define himself. He didn’t have the words for his identity, and the binary never made sense to him—but for so long, there was no alternative. “Why am I trying to fit into the exact binary that I don’t believe in?” But breaking free wasn’t just about rejecting a label, it was about unlearning the shame that had been placed on him and finding the community that allowed him to exist, fully and unapologetically.

When Pharaoh first started drag, he didn’t know where it would lead. Now, he stands as a leader—curating events, creating affirming spaces, and ensuring that the next generation of queer students doesn’t have to navigate that journey alone.

“Carnegie Mellon is… I don’t want to say unwelcoming, but a lot of people spend their time in hiding. You’ll make these connections, but they'll be gone before they blossom.”

Pharaoh was determined to change that. Through PRISM, he’s created spaces for queer students to build connections that don’t just exist in whispers but thrive, loudly and without apology.

“In the past, Prism has heavily supported the gay and sapphic community...I really wanted to make sure that we make space to celebrate all together but highlight certain aspects of the community…in the most silly and fun way possible.” From hair dye parties to “Farts and Crafts,” and while Pharaoh spearheads this initiative now, they needed the connection to not only feel “saved,” but to exist loudly.

For Pharaoh, D.R.A.G. is not just about gender—it’s about reclamation. It’s about taking back the parts of yourself that heteronormativity tried to erase, about tearing down the internalized shame and replacing it with joy, with laughter, with community. It’s about proving that queerness is not something to endure—it’s something to celebrate. “We’re here, we always will be.” Between Edgewood, Prism, and all of the show’s entertainers and guests, we’re here in America, but importantly, for each other. Drag inspires “empowerment,” and community solidifies it.

D.R.A.G. was inspired by “Edgewood’s vision, documented queer existence.” This show does not force anyone into a box. It doesn’t define queerness—it expands it. It reminds us that we are not alone. As Pharaoh said, “if we stand separated, nothing is going to get done.” Change comes from collective power—from drag, from art, from shared voices refusing to be silenced.

You can find Pharaoh, myself, and the rest of the incredibly powerful cast at “D.R.A.G.: Destroying Rules About Gender,” Friday, February 28th in the CMU University Center Rangos at 8:30 PM. For more information, visit us and Prism on Instagram @edgewoodmagazne and @cmuprism.