Meet Matt Livadary, a straight ally and the creator of a new documentary Queens and Cowboys: A Straight Year On The Gay Rodeo about his experience with one of Compete's partners--the International Gay Rodeo Association.

 Matt shares:

 I showed up to my first gay rodeo in skinny-jeans, skate shoes and a baseball cap. Since then, this sheltered, straight city-dude has been on a steep learning curve. Each week busted a new expectation, brought on another surprise, or updated my understanding to things I thought I already understood. My time with the IGRA already has made me both a stronger person and a bull rider, two things that mean the same thing. I'm lucky that the IGRA welcomes anyone to compete and pledges to show anyone the ropes of rodeo -- so through the last several months of training, I'm thrilled to get the chance to compete in bull riding at the Best Buck in the Bay Rodeo, happening in San Francisco (Sept 10 & 11, 2011).


Matt is asking investors to contribute $35,000 to complete his film at this site


In an exclusive guest blog, Matt discusses his walk on the wild side in what for him, is a brave new world of wigs, cowboy hats, and excitement..

The Drag Dupe
by Matt Livadary

Despite the fact that I lived in West Hollywood for two years, I somehow have had very few encounters with drag queens. Through the last 8 months of documenting the International Gay Rodeo Association, I think I've made up for lost time. I realize only now how colossal my heterosexual naïveté truly was – from simply not knowing how to use pronouns around men in wigs to wondering if complimenting a drag queen on her looks was an inherent dig at her natural-born alternative. As I said, naïve. The below was one of my earliest lessons in my drag queen education—what I'm here on calling the "Drag Dupe."

Dallas, TX. March 13, 2011

Last night after the rodeo, Shilo*, a friendly drag queen I met this weekend, introduced me to her friends in RV
alley, where an unofficial Texas Chili Cookoff was being held. Given that I'd never had Texas Chili, I became the perfect unbiased judge for the occasion (I must say well done to Texans, the beanless chili is the way to go). It didn't take long for the chefs to tempt my vote with homemade moonshine, also a first. And a second. And maybe a third. It was an epic evening that, from there, grew a little hazy – but not 'out of control' hazy. At least so I thought.




So before the rodeo this morning, I shuffled into the hotel's continental breakfast. No sooner had I begun drowning my plate in a mountain of scrambled eggs, when a strong hand squeezed my shoulder, trailed by an unmistakably male voice:

"Have fun last night Mr. Matt? Sure seemed to enjoy yourself." When I turned, my heart sunk into my stomach: a man I have never seen before in my life calling me by name, intimately rubbing my shoulder with a familiarity that immediately swore me off moonshine for the rest of my life. I didn't want to appear rude but my arm had already moved my egg mountain between us like a cross.

He must have noticed, because he added with a suggestive smile, "Don't worry, sugar, I'm hungover too."

Matt there's no way you had that much moonshine....right? My memory sprinted through the prior evening's events and
this cheery man was nowhere in the bank. One thing was certain, somehow this man knew who I was and wasn't afraid to show it.

Moonshine you deceiving little minx!

"Um, I'm sorry?" Is all I could manage to whisper back. Matt what the hell did you do last night?? Don't panic, be
polite, but get more information. "...I've been meeting so many people this weekend, I seem to have forgotten your name..."

Somewhere a faceless diner hollered, "Boy, that ain't ever good!"

The man removed his hand from my shoulder, "It's Brian! You must really have had more to drink than I thought!"

He began laughing. I began sweating.

Oh God I hope my camera wasn't involved...

".... Matt, you idiot it's me–Shilo. Slash, Brian."

I took a closer look and recognized the same facial structure of my new friend who'd kindly taken me under her wing all weekend and introduced me to her friends. But with no more highlighted wig, heavy eyeliner or nerffootball- halves wedged into C-cups, I didn't recognize him at all. Matt, you are indeed an idiot.

From here on out, I was going to have to be a bit more perceptive and not jump to conclusions – otherwise, this naïve straight dude is gonna give himself a heart attack.

*Aliases used