
Meet Sahira
Sahira is the drag djinn of Peterborough; unapologetically shape-shifting through every system designed to shrink Black, queer, and neurodivergent identities.
Born in Zanzibar and raised in Toronto, Sahira fuses movement, myth, fashion, and political heat into a drag practice that is equal parts ritual, rebellion, and joy as protest. A runner-up in the 2019 Future Fierce Pageant hosted by Tynomi Banks, Sahira was more recently hand-picked by Lemon out of over 40 applicants to compete in Toronto’s inaugural Legacy Pride Pageant in June 2025.
With a background in graphic design, Sahira sculpts every look with a visual clarity and intention that transcends aesthetic. Their drag isn’t about perfection; it’s about speaking truth to power, integrating identities, and thriving beyond survival. From upcycled and handmade garments to multi-colored makeup, Sahira’s drag doesn’t just entertain — it insists.
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Parallel to their stage work, Sahira is set to hone AFRODEITY, their debut EP of spell-like lyricism and Afrofuturist vision, during the Black August Arts Residency in August 2025, a two-week, inter-arts residency they were selected for out of over a hundred applicants.
Artistic Statement
As-salamu alaykum.
I'm not a drag queen. I'm a drag djinn. Djinns are beings of smokeless fire in Islamic mythology, shape-shifters by nature. That’s how I approach my drag: as a practice of constant transformation, movement without permission, and truth without compromise.
Each performance is a ritual. Sometimes it's high-energy dance, sometimes live painting, sometimes a comedic monologue speaking truth to power — but always, it’s about presence.
I don’t aim for perfection. I aim for flow. I perform in real time — not something overly rehearsed, but planned and rooted in intention. I honor my body, the energy in the room, and whatever needs to come through that night. It’s about trusting the moment, not controlling it. I lean into what others call mistakes. A smudged line becomes a new contour. A wardrobe malfunction becomes a gag. It’s a collaboration with the universe as it naturally unfolds.
I take deep inspiration from Black queer excellence and activism — artists like Bob the Drag Queen, The Vixen, Shea Couleé, and Peppermint — who remind us that drag isn’t just about looking good. It’s about toppling systems.
My drag is political, spiritual, and raw. But it also knows how to play. I work across mediums — makeup, music, movement, fashion, comedy, and more — because for me, drag is not about playing a part. It’s about exploration and expression.
At its core, my drag is a simple truth: we are boundless, if we choose to be.
Upcoming Events
July 21st - Aug 5th
Black Arts August Residency
Aug 8th
All Ages Open Stage
& Drag Exchange
Registration
FAQs
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I’ve been playing with gender and dressing eclectically for most of my life — but the first time I was paid to do it was when a friend asked me to perform a 'Lip Sync for Your Life'-style number at Market Hall for one of TQC's annual drag shows. I had no idea what I was stepping into. But the moment I hit that stage, something ancient and electric unlocked inside me.
It wasn’t just about the performance — it was about embodying a version of myself that felt more alive, more free. That night didn’t just spark a passion. It set me on a lifelong path of shape-shifting, storytelling, and community building through drag.
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In the world of drag, a drag child is someone you mentor — someone you guide as they come into their own artistry. It’s a chosen family dynamic rooted in care, legacy, and collective evolution. You help shape their drag, and in return, they shape you right back.
I have three beautiful drag children:
Betty Baker, who I adopted from a runaway queen.
Magnolia Knox, who I birthed in my living room.
And that aforementioned runaway queen herself — a full-circle story if there ever was one.
Each of them brings their own distinct magic to the stage. Watching them grow as performers, creators, and people is a joy beyond words. We’re not just performing together — we’re weaving a legacy.
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‘Sahira’ means “the enchantress” in Arabic — which felt like the perfect invocation: a name with poetic power. I chose it because it conjured mystery, femininity, and magic. What I didn’t know at the time is that Sahira also means “the wakeful one” — the one who cannot sleep. The one who stays alert. The one who stays woke.
That’s the thing about true names:
I thought I was naming my drag persona.
Turns out, I was naming my destiny.Because what is a djinn, if not a being of smokeless fire — one who refuses to rest in a world that demands their silence?
What is a drag enchantress, if not someone who bends illusion into truth — who reshapes reality so that the hidden becomes seen?