Dwain Northey (Gen X)

Alright, let’s wade into this glorious swamp of hypocrisy. The very same crowd that once puffed their perms to the heavens, caked on eyeliner like it was war paint, and strutted across stages in leopard-print spandex tighter than a sausage casing, are now shrieking into their Fox News-branded megaphones about the dangers of men in dresses. Yes, the generation that raised their fists to Twisted Sister’s anthem “We’re Not Gonna Take It” now seems absolutely determined to take it — all of it — away from anyone who doesn’t conform to their suddenly delicate sensibilities.

Let’s start with the obvious. If you were at a Mötley Crüe concert in 1985, chances are good you saw Vince Neil teetering on high heels, doused in eyeliner, and wearing more lipstick than your mother owned. Nikki Sixx wasn’t exactly dressed for Sunday service either — unless your church was run by Liberace. The glam rock era wasn’t just music; it was a full-on drag show with pyrotechnics, shredding guitars, and a chorus of mullets. And the crowd? They loved it. They cheered for it. They bought the albums, wore the merch, and tried to tease their hair into the same Aqua Net-defying shapes. And now these same people — these leather-pants apostles of glam excess — are clutching their pearls over a drag queen reading Green Eggs and Ham to kids at a library? Please.

What makes it even richer is that Twisted Sister’s Dee Snider himself — the very poster boy of glam metal gender-bending — once had to testify before Congress about music censorship in the infamous PMRC hearings. He stood there, in his ripped T-shirt and mascara, defending freedom of expression against Tipper Gore and the moral scolds of the 1980s. Fast-forward a few decades and some of the very fans who screamed “yeah, Dee, stick it to The Man!” are now being The Man — demanding book bans, attacking libraries, and hyperventilating about a drag queen whose biggest crime is probably mispronouncing “Chicka Chicka Boom Boom.”

And let’s not forget the sheer absurdity of the complaint itself. We’re talking about grown adults who once blasted songs about sex, drugs, and partying until dawn, yet they’re terrified of children being “corrupted” by someone in a sequined gown reading Where the Wild Things Are. Newsflash: kids aren’t going to be warped by a story hour; they’re going to get warped by watching their dad scream at the television every night about immigrants, or by mom’s Facebook rabbit hole full of conspiracy memes about litter boxes in schools.

The cognitive dissonance is staggering. These folks cheered for artists who strutted onstage in thigh-high boots and fishnets, but drag queens — who are doing essentially the same thing, just without the Marshall stacks and pyrotechnics — are apparently civilization-ending threats. It’s like they forgot their own adolescence, or maybe they’re too embarrassed to admit that their “bad boy” idols wore more makeup than RuPaul.

So yes, the irony here isn’t just thick — it’s practically a new genre of metal. Imagine if Dee Snider had told his fans back in ’84, “Hey, thirty years from now you’re all going to be outraged by drag queens in libraries.” They would’ve laughed him off the stage. Yet here we are: the Aqua Net warriors of yesteryear transformed into cranky culture warriors, still shouting “We’re Not Gonna Take It!” — but this time, it’s directed at someone reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar. You can’t make it up.