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, radical honesty, afro-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.

As an neuro-spicy artist, Sahira builds work through a cyclical, intuitive process - shifting between music, sewing, painting, and performance as energy allows. What may look like bouncing between mediums is, for them, a self-regulated rhythm of expression. They return to each craft in cycles, layering skill over time and letting each form feed the next. Their practice honors neurodivergent flow: improvisational, dopamine-led, and rooted in autonomy. Onstage, performance becomes a kind of non-verbal clarity - not an escape from self, but a space where presence doesn’t require translation.

Sahira is currently developing a communally collaborative multi-disciplinary afro-drag project entitled A Dandy Lion’s Guide on How to Bloom from Rotted Roots, with plans to showcase the first rendition of it on October 3rd as part of ArtsWeek Peterborough.

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.

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 wardrobe malfunction becomes a gag. A makeup error becomes an intended detail. 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. At its core, my drag is a simple truth: we are boundless, if we choose to be.

Upcoming Events

Sep 16th
Public Energy Performing Arts
Season Announcement

Sep 19th
Haus of Q Hoedown
Honky Tonk Angel Bar

Sep 27th
Peterborough Pride
Parade, In the Park, & After Dark

Oct 3rd
A Dandy Lion’s Guide:
An Artsweek Afro-Drag Showcase

 FAQs

  • 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.

  • 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,

    • & that aforementioned runaway queen herself.

    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.

  • ‘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.