Usually found captivating a crowd, hair sculpted to perfection and adorned with a cascade of rhinestones, Poison Waters is unmistakable. Her distinctive voice resonates through a room, filling it with warmth and wit.
But it's not just the glamour — of which there’s plenty — that makes her stand out. It's the very essence of Poison Waters, a Portland icon whose presence is as legendary as her heart is generous.
Also known as Kevin Cook in the off hours, Waters is more than a performer. She is a tireless advocate and educator and a fabulous personality deeply intertwined with the pulse of Portland — including a long-standing connection to Portland State University that recently culminated in a momentous honor.
A Spark Ignites
Although she’s told the story numerous times during her nearly 40-year career, “I’ll tell it again,” Waters says as she describes her journey as a drag queen. It began notably with an unenthusiastic introduction.
In the late 1980s, Waters stepped into the all-ages queer club City Nightclub and initially dismissed drag as “terrible.” “I didn't understand it, and the people didn't look good,” she recalls, lamenting how drag shows interrupted her time on the dance floor.
The curtain opened and there were four beautiful Black drag queens. I'd never seen a Black drag queen before, and it kind of hit me like a light bulb
over my head.
That opinion changed when a few standout guest performers took the stage.
“The curtain opened and there were four beautiful Black drag queens. I'd never seen a Black drag queen before, and it kind of hit me like a light bulb over my head,” she says. “I'm like, ‘Oh, now I get it. This is for me.’”
Wearing sequins, rhinestones and feathers, the drag queens looked “rich and fancy,” according to Waters — an aesthetic she was immediately drawn to. By the end of the night, Waters had exchanged phone numbers with one of the performers known as Rosey Waters and that was it: Cook was now a member of the Waters drag family alongside Rosey, Misty, Lady Elaine Peacock and Ceresa XIV of All Alaska and her legacy began.
Called to Activism
It’s been 37 years since Cook became Waters, and they haven’t looked back.
“It means everything. I can't imagine not doing drag,” she says. The rush of audience appreciation and the “addictive” feeling of a room screaming her name and laughing at her jokes cemented her path as a drag queen.
But as Waters came into her own, the AIDS crisis had just begun to sweep through the LGBTQ+ community, leaving drag queens to take center stage as both host and activist.
The very essence of what we do is activism.
“Our community was dying and sick, and they needed help,” Waters recalls. “The drag queens are who they turned to to host events and car washes and bake sales and fundraisers, and we were just the ones that dove in and did it.”
What began as unpaid community service evolved into a professional career in advocacy, largely thanks to the legendary Portland drag queen, Darcelle XV. Darcelle encouraged Waters to expand her activism beyond the community bar scene. Waters credits Darcelle's astute community relations — befriending mayors and governors — as a model she adopted, allowing her to engage directly with city leaders and advocate for the LGBTQ+ community.
“I've been friends with every mayor since I've been out in drag and every governor on some level. Normally a drag queen wouldn't just walk up to the governor and say, ‘Hey, what's going on,’ but I get to do that,” she says.
This level of engagement feels especially important as the national climate has shifted and the LGBTQ+ community is under attack.
“Fortunately for our community, the majority of the Pacific Northwest — and Portland specifically — is on our side,” Waters says. “The very essence of what we do is activism. At its very core, we are doing what people across the country are telling us to not do, and we are not listening to that. We're actually doing the opposite. It's always been this way.”
As Portland celebrates Pride with events in June and July, Waters adds that the community can — and should — show up to support their LGBTQ+ peers.
“For an ally, I think it’s really important to be visible because a lot of people are allies in silence, and that is nice for them, but it doesn't do us any good,” she says. “You don't benefit from an ally if you don't know they're there.”
She encourages allies to ask members of the LGBTQ+ community questions and learn how they can support those who may feel under attack — particularly in today’s political landscape.
Elevating Drag to the World Stage
Sharing stories and elevating drag culture also helps uplift the LGBTQ+ community. For Waters, virtual performances have expanded her ability to reach new audiences, from the Portland Metro area to places as far away as Singapore.
“I started doing virtual performances during COVID, and I didn't even know what Zoom was,” she says. “I'm very technologically challenged, but it really saved my bacon.”
What started as a virtual bingo session grew exponentially as organizations and employers were seeking activities they could host safely with their staff, volunteers and clients. That work continues post-pandemic.
“People still rely on virtual opportunities, so I’m thankful for that,” Waters adds. “It's great to be able to work with people all over the world, literally in different continents and countries and time zones.”
Drag is everywhere. If you open your eyes, you'll find it.
That may mean she’s debating whether to go to sleep after co-hosting the show at Darcelle XV Showcase or stay in drag to run virtual bingo at 3 a.m. But the opportunity to expose new communities to drag and drag culture is invaluable.
“I often hear, ‘We don't have anything like that.’ And I always correct them,” she says. “You do, you just don't know about it. Drag is everywhere. If you open your eyes, you'll find it.”
This engagement and connection to sharing drag with the world also fuels her popular non-credit “Histories of Drag Performance in Portland” class at Portland Community College (PCC). The class started during COVID as PCC looked for new ways to reach the community, and it sold out instantly.
When they expanded the class, it sold out again — and continues to do so four years later.
Waters initially thought she knew most of Portland's drag history from her decades working alongside Darcelle. But she discovered a wealth of forgotten stories as part of her preparation for the course.
“When I started doing the research, I found out so much more,” she says. She uncovered records of drag performances in Portland dating back to 1914, even revealing a female mayor in the late 1940s who openly campaigned against “pansies.”
“This is way back when, and not much has changed in different parts of the country,” she says.
A Dream Realized
The first time Waters performed at Portland State, it was 1990 and she joined the cast of Darcelle’s to perform at a lunchtime Halloween show.
“I was so nervous wondering what these prestigious collegiates would think of drag,” she says. But that performance turned into an annual appearance and more opportunities to join the PSU community, including events with the Women’s Center, the Women, Gender, and Sexuality Studies Department, Lavender Graduation and a pool-side event in the then-new Academic & Student Recreation Center.
“It’s 1,000 degrees in the pool and the worst thing for a drag queen to do is be hot,” Waters says. “Everybody's in a swimsuit, and there I am in drag, barefoot like a Flintstone. But I loved it.”
After countless performances, Waters says she has always felt welcome and like part of the PSU community. Finally, her affiliation was made official as part of PSU’s 2025 commencement. On June 13, Waters was awarded an honorary doctorate of humane letters during the College of the Arts ceremony.
“Growing up extremely poor in East County, a college degree seemed like an unattainable reality. Which proved to be true, much to my personal disappointment,” she says. “I gave it a shot and it didn’t work out. But I’ve always secretly wished I had a degree, and today that dream comes true. I feel like Elle Woods.”
A degree from PSU feels particularly special, Waters says, because of their long-standing connection to the university.
“It wouldn't mean as much if it was any other university. If somebody said, ‘Hey, you have your choice,’ it would be PSU,” she says. “Especially at a time when drag in this country is under attack and the trans community is under attack, I think these sort of public acknowledgements of the drag community, not just me specifically but what it represents to the larger community, is so important.”
The degree also represents an acknowledgement for Waters that the path they chose, at odds with those who told her she was “too loud, too feminine, too everything,” has benefited others in ways she always believed it could.
“Time and time again, I would try to make a career out of drag and be told, shamed even, that this wasn't a real job, that I needed to be doing something that benefits others. Ultimately I realized that drag does benefit others as well as fulfills my soul,” she says. “That realization put me on the path to success, not just financial success but personal success — which of course is the most important. Answering my own calling and not the calling of others is what gave me freedom to be ‘too’ everything and I'm 100 percent okay with it.”
Enduring Look, Evolving Legacy
As she’s embraced and embodied her drag persona to the fullest, it’s become harder to separate Kevin Cook from Poison Waters. At this point, they're one in the same.
“When I first started doing drag, I really wanted to keep them separate, but now it's all one, whether I'm in drag or out of drag,” she says.
Being Waters has become a business, as she prefers hustling, promoting and supporting to anything else. “There's no way to turn it off. And at this point, I wouldn't want to,” she says. “I would be lost if I didn't have Poison Waters in the Poison Waters machine I've created with the help of so many people — I wouldn't know what to do without that.”
That’s why, even after decades of community and advocacy work, she doesn’t plan to slow down. Ever.
“I'm gonna go until I can’t, and even still do it a little bit after,” she says. “Put me in drag in the coffin and I'll do a little show.”