By Sarah Holliday

The government is a solemn pillar of authority, steering the course of American life with ironclad resolve. Statehouses, too, hold power, their halls echo with the gravity of lawmaking. But in Oregon? The sacred floor of the House of Representatives was turned into a stage for a drag show — yes, a drag show. It was a shimmer-soaked, sashaying extravaganza that turned government chambers into a flamboyant runway, mocking the very pillars of order and decorum.

Two men, swathed in ostentatious gold and silver like glittering relics of a fever dream, pranced across the House floor — each salacious strut a slap in the face of the chamber’s dignity. Lawmaking was shoved aside, drowned out by pulsating pop anthems as the performers exalted “Black Drag Queens.” Representative Dwayne Yunker (R) voiced the collective fury on X: “If this feels more like a performance than governance, you’re not alone.” His words cut deeper still.

“I’m not sure the Founding Fathers envisioned taxpayer-funded legislative chambers being turned into platforms for political theater,” Yunker declared. “The House floor is meant for serious debate, lawmaking, and serving all Oregonians, not partisan spectacles designed to push cultural agendas.” Days before the event, Yunker had already condemned it as “outrageous and a complete waste of taxpayer money.” Even after the performance concluded, his critique remained unrelenting.

On Thursday’s episode of “Washington Watch,” Yunker joined guest host and former Congressman Jody Hice to dissect the unprecedented event. Hice observed that Pride Month celebrations nationwide “are certainly more muted this year,” but Oregon stood as a stark exception. Reflecting on Wednesday’s display, Hice probed, “What does that mean? What is the impact, exactly, other than desensitizing young people to sexual immorality? … And how did the other legislators respond to this?”

“I’m still trying to wrap my brain around what happened on the House floor there at the assembly chamber,” Hice admitted. Yunker responded, “The majority of the Republicans, [who] weren’t a super minority, most of us were not on the floor. We refused to be on the floor during the show.”

Yunker went on to contrast the event with the values of his party. While Oregon Democrats championed the drag show, he noted, Oregon Republicans “pray during our caucus meetings. … [M]ost of us have Christian values — family values, [we champion] marriage, those things are all important to us.” He acknowledged Oregon’s distinct cultural landscape, often dubbed “the gayest state,” where progressive ideals hold sway. “It’s horrible,” Yunker said. “But, you know, our governor is a … lesbian governor. She’s very proud of those things. So, this is just how things are happening with the Democratic Party.”

Given Oregon’s liberal dominance, Hice asked, “Were you surprised at what had happened yesterday?” Yunker replied candidly, “No, no, I’m not surprised.” In his second year as a representative, he said, the ideological divide is unmistakable. Surrounded by lawmakers who do not share his principles — “not my values,” he emphasized, “not my Christian beliefs” — Yunker described a daily struggle to uphold common morality. He lamented the partisan gridlock, noting that, when it comes to the state Democrats, “not one of them will vote with us.”

The drag show, held on the House floor, was not just a singular event. For Yunker and others, the event was a bridge too far. The House floor, they argued, is a sacred space reserved for the work of governance — debating budgets, crafting policies, addressing the state’s pressing issues like homelessness and economic recovery. To turn it into a stage for what they saw as a politically-charged performance undermined its purpose and alienated those who view government as a place for serious deliberation, not political theater.

As Family Research Council President Tony Perkins shared on X, “Not surprising for the state of lawlessness. … God have mercy on the people of Oregon.” The drag show may have been a moment of celebration for some, but for others, it was a reminder of how far Oregon’s political culture has shifted — and how wide the chasm between its factions has grown.

Sarah Holliday is a reporter at The Washington Stand.