The understated twang of Brent Minor’s North Carolina accent melts into an all-out Texas drawl when he invokes his drag persona, Miss Adams Morgan 2008 Barbara Anne Bushwhacker. If her name sounds unfamiliar, don’t blame the eternal spring of new RuPaul’s Drag Race alumni, but rather that, until recently, the amateur drag pageant over which Bushwhacker once reigned has traditionally been an underground affair.
“Until the last couple of years, we allowed no working media,” says Minor, who serves as president of the Dupont Social Club, which organizes the annual Miss Adams Morgan pageant and will host its 38th iteration at the Washington Hilton on Oct. 31. If anything, the low profile and clubby nature added an exclusive mystique to the show, which drew up to 2,300 attendees at its pre-pandemic peak, according to Minor. But as the advent of smartphones chipped away at the event’s long-standing “no cameras” ethos, and the bounceback after a canceled COVID-era pageant proved softer than expected, something needed to change.
“In order to maintain the audience, we had to meet the audience where they were,” Minor says. “They were no longer just hanging around the [gay] bars. They’re going to be online. They’re going to need social media presence … If somebody’s gonna tell our story, it needs to be us.” Modernization extended to a deeper meditation on how the group reflects evolving LGBTQIA acceptance more broadly.
“Back when [the pageant] originally started, there were folks from the federal government and working in other capacities where being outed as a drag queen could potentially risk their employment,” says Joe Kuehne, whose drag persona, Dawn Huggins, was crowned Miss Adams Morgan last year. “It’s not as if everything is better for queer folks these days, but we are in a place where … if you’re going to be participating in this, you should be comfortable being somewhat public about it. We really have, in the past couple of years, made a concerted effort to be more visible.”
When a new Miss Adams Morgan is crowned on Halloween, she will join a long line begun by Dupont Social Club founder Steven Brandt. Calling himself Lady Dianna Spencer, Brandt was crowned by friends—he suspects it was gratitude for helping a few of them apply their makeup—at an October 1988 dinner at 17th Street NW LGBTQIA mainstay Annie’s Paramount Steakhouse. They hit the bars after dinner and formally christened their informal group the Dupont Social Club, securing a bright spot under the dark cloud of the burgeoning AIDS epidemic. They convened regularly and vacationed together, expanding to the degree that by the time the second pageant rolled around in 1989, a crowd of 50 or so squeezed into a borrowed townhouse to take in the competition.
The club took on a heightened sense of purpose soon after that second pageant, when Brandt and his friends were accosted in Dupont Circle while in drag. The attackers pulled off Brandt’s wig and threw it into the mud before fleeing, but Brandt defiantly put it back onto his head and continued on, determined to enjoy a night out with his friends.
“It was at that time at the bar where we were like, ‘No, we’re going to do this again and we’re going to do it in a place where we can be safe and people can have fun,’” Brandt recalls. Having fun remains the club’s top priority, even as the pageant’s production value has grown tremendously since its salad days (rapid expansion forced a relocation to long-gone Mexican restaurant La Fonda, the ballroom of the Kennedy-Warren apartment building, and eventually the Washington Hilton).
After a preshow cocktail party, the pageant begins with a Parade of States where contestants—including Miss California Mae O’Naise, Miss North Dakota Margo Rita Swirlz, and Miss Virginia Velma Kitty this year—showcase elaborate costumes. During the talent portion, the queens demonstrate their ability to produce the following year’s extravaganza. Under the mentorship of drag mothers, some contestants compete for years before finally securing the crown.
With great power also comes great responsibility. In addition to the night’s theme—Something Wicked This Way Comes this year, building on Huggins’ winning Wicked-inspired act—the reigning queen selects a nonprofit to serve as the beneficiary of a portion of the night’s proceeds, a tradition that began after Brandt and his fellow organizers came out $78 ahead in the third year. They gave the extra money to the bartender, but held onto the kernel of an idea that leftover funding could be invested back into the community. To date, Dupont Social Club has donated more than $500,000 to nonprofits largely supporting the queer and trans community.
Kuehne has worked over the past year to expand the group’s fundraising activities, organizing monthly “Sloppy Saturday” drag shows at Her Diner that feature professional and amateur performers who donate their tips to a designated charity. At one of the shows, Kuehne met Whitman-Walker Foundation Executive Director Ted Miller, who told him about the resources offered by Whitman-Walker Health Legal Services, including pro bono work related to HIV, employment discrimination, and family matters. Kuehne was particularly moved by available immigration-related services.
“Legal Services really is a game changer to help low- and no-income people stay healthy,” says Whitman-Walker Health Senior Director of Legal Services Amy Nelson. “A lot of our immigrant patients are, in fact, eligible for humanitarian relief, usually in the form of asylum.” Nelson notes that more than 3,000 people use Whitman-Walker’s legal resources annually. “We file a good number of asylum cases on behalf of those who happen to also be our medical patients.”
The support from Dupont Social Club comes at a critical time for Whitman-Walker Health, which faced significant public funding cuts in 2025. Only approximately 40 percent of funding has been restored to some research programs, according to Miller, who attended his first Miss Adams Morgan pageant in 1998 soon after moving to D.C.
“Community-based fundraising like Miss Adams Morgan or the fundraising that we do on behalf of our programs really provide [Whitman-Walker Health] with the flexible dollars that can fill some of the gaps,” says Miller. “You can do some very tangible things that enable people to continue to navigate services, or to cover costs that aren’t covered by federal programs or other sources anymore. Flexibility is key.” (Outside of the pageant, people can support Whitman-Walker Health by making a donation online.)
As regular pageant attendees, Miller and Nelson are grateful that Kuehne will share some of his spotlight with Whitman-Walker on Oct. 31. It’s a safe bet that Barbara and Dianna will be onstage to take in a bit of that light as well. Though Brandt no longer lives in Washington, he regularly visits to connect with club members and attend the pageant. The value of what he created with his friends—some of whom died too young to see the fruits of their labor—crystallizes with each passing year.
“The history that we have is so rich and I don’t ever want that to get lost,” Brandt says. “Twenty years from now, I hope somebody’s alive and says, ‘Oh, I remember that Miss Adams Morgan thing. It was a good thing. We needed something like that.’”
In a city known for its transience, perhaps only diamonds—well, rhinestones—really are forever.
Dupont Social Club’s Miss Adams Morgan pageant starts at 6 p.m. on Oct. 31 at the Washington Hilton. thedupontsocialclub.com. $25–$104.52. VIP packages are available.
