Interview with Kyle Casey Chu, Author of The Queen Bees of Tybee County

Welcome to Smack Dab, Kyle! Tell us a bit about The Queen Bees of Tybee County.

Thanks so much for the invite and pleasure to be here! 

The Queen Bees of Tybee County follows Chinese American seventh grade basketball superstar, Derrick Chan, who finds himself boarding with his eccentric Grandma Claudia in rural Heritage, Georgia one summer. As Derrick unearths more about his family history, his Chinese heritage, and his queer identity, he gathers the nerve to compete in Heritage’s local Queen Bees pageant… in drag.

This story gets to the heart of what I wanted and gravitated toward as a kid- compasses in the form of elder role models to navigate uncharted terrain, dramatic, soul-moving creative arts and an entourage of fast friends that really had my back. It’s all of the things that saved me when I came out in the seventh grade and my whole world changed. When being Chinese American and being queer felt like irreconcilable blemishes that I once felt desperate to hide. I wrote this book for any middle grader out there also grappling with concepts of identity that feel too mountainous, overwhelming and complex to process alone. I hope they find solace (and fun!) in this book!  

To start, I have to tackle it: drag has been politicized to such a great extent in recent years. Why did you decide to tackle the subject? 

Queer and Trans people are often asked and expected to minimize ourselves to survive. If we are not careful, minimizing ourselves becomes a way of living. It is an empty life. 

Tackling drag wasn't a decision for me, as much as a question of if I've had enough. And as it turns out, I refuse to make myself or my writing smaller just because the irrational right spun the wheel and randomly decided I'm today's boogie man.  

I've realized in my life that I've far more often regretted not doing what I wanted, as opposed to doing what I wanted. Wouldn't it be so sad to pour your entire heart and soul into a story only to pump the brakes and self-censor because you're afraid it’s a bad moment? To decide, once again, that because I'm not palatable or mild enough for myopic transphobes who have never met a drag queen, who time and again, are incapable of providing any facts or figures to support bold, unfounded, stale and reheated Anita Bryant crusade-era claims, that I should halt everything that I love doing? My life work, and in a way, my life itself?

I write the worlds I want and the lessons I've learned. It's a special shade of sad to limit my craft because the misinformed have psyched themselves into imagining I'm someone and something I'm obviously not. That’s just another closet that I refuse to stuff myself into.

What’s been the reception among young readers specifically? I loved that the theme of finding “joy” ran throughout the novel. I would have been all over that feeling as a young reader.

I’m not sure yet, and the suspense is killing me! The book just came out on April 15th, and most of the middle graders I’ve met through school visits have only just started reading it. I know some good reviews have come in on GoodReads, but I reckon they are mostly coming from adults. I’m still waiting to see what the reception is like amongst middle graders.

And the “queer joy” focus came directly from middle schoolers! I met with middle school GSA members and queer and trans seventh graders from San Francisco and Atlanta as research for the book, and all of them, totally independent of each other, professed wanting to read a happy story. I feel like this tracks with shows like “Heartstopper” making such a splash. 

But hot take: I’ll admit that, at first, Heartstopper didn’t resonate with me. And I realized it’s because a lot of the queer media I consumed growing up (as a millennial) was rather tragic and angsty. And I believe there are many reasons such sad queer and trans stories predominated. Queer and trans people have had to justify ourselves and our identities for decades. In many cases, audiences have learned to expect queer and trans personhoods, stories and identities to be neatly packaged in triumph formulas, i.e. being such determined and resilient queens that we overcome the prejudices and hardships, so we can live out and proud as our true selves. There is, and should be room for these stories. They’re important. I once needed them. And also, this shouldn’t constitute all queer and trans stories out there. Like, I love the movie, “Moonlight.” But I also love “But I’m a Cheerleader.” And like, “M3gan.” Let there be variety. Let there be fun. 

So anyway, I leaned into the joy aspect for this reason. Also, because there is so much queer rumination around “push” factors. Like, what will fail or go wrong? What about what will go right? What about going toward something because you love it so much, you can’t imagine your life without it? There’s so much richness and momentum in that. It’s how I felt about art as a middle grader. And it’s a refuge I know a lot of queer and trans kids still seek out, today. 

We need hopeful, joyful stories so we can imagine these outcomes for ourselves!

I was fascinated by dualities all through the book: Derrick struggles with balancing different sides of himself (his love for basketball and his interest in drag). Also, the book explores several instances of prejudice: both racial discrimination and anti-LGBTQ+ attitudes. How much was purposeful and how much just naturally poured into the book? 

This is a great question, and my answer would be: a little of both! At that age, I remember everything felt so starkly black and white, life and death. Either I would be popular, or completely alone. Either cool, or a total loser. A successful, straight-A student, or a failure. (Then again, I’m a drag queen, so maybe I’m just a touch dramatic, haha). But life is, of course, more complicated than that. A series of grays on a spectrum, as opposed to an on/off of a switch. Because we are a sum of parts, contradictions, and weird little interests that make us the odd mosaics we are. 

As a kid, I was a collection of contradictions. An honor roll student who got into fights in the playground. A bombastic extrovert who spent hours practicing saxophone alone in a practice room. A Chinese American kid who was terrible at math (the media told me this combination was impossible!) Both/and, vs. either/or thinking: the idea that multiple seemingly contradictory truths can coexist at once, is a therapeutic concept that has given me a lot of relief in the messy journey of life. It’s something many adults struggle with, even. And it’s a concept worth familiarizing kids with. Because it can bring them closer to reaching that quiet peace in being who they are meant to be.

And regarding racial discrimination and homophobia/transphobia, it’s interesting, because sixth and seventh grade is when I became very aware of my identity and social context. That there were parts of my being that some would find unacceptable. So, summoning back that age to write Queen Bees, these topics naturally poured into the story. 

When I came out in the seventh grade, my friends turned their backs on me. Feeling like a pariah and having to find new friends was earth-shattering. Because developmentally, social belonging is the highest survival need for this age. There was, of course, homophobia. But more than that, there was also the anticipation of it in every interaction I had. A veil of hurt and mistrust, a fearful hesitation before meeting anyone, that they could turn violent or hostile at any moment, that haunted me. This was the biggest scar, and I did my best to capture that as Derrick reflects, in the book.

Around the same time, I also started to come into my own understanding of race. I was fortunate to go to school in San Francisco, where there were a lot of Chinese American students, but still, I found many fellow Chinese American students (and myself included), romanticized whiteness, some even yearning to be white or half-white. Some girls went to the mall to buy blue contact lenses together. The ones with older sisters talked wistfully about getting eyelid surgeries… “one day.” Some Chinese girls didn’t even date Chinese guys. A girl once told me “You’re kinda cute…for an Asian” (I am so grateful to the movie DiDi for shining a light on this very real dynamic). I was left feeling like my race was something to be “fixed.” As if my race (mis)spoke for me, and I would spend my whole life correcting it, arguing against it.

It probably goes without saying that processing queer and racial identity as a 12 year old was a wild undertaking. It opened an ache in me. I had questions. And years later, after studying race and ethnicity in college, there were a lot of things I wish I knew then. Conversations I wish I could’ve had and reassurances I wish I could’ve given to my younger self. In a way, this book is a collection of those conversations and reassurances.

Speaking of naturally pouring in: how did your own experience as a Chinese American influence the cultural elements in the book, like the references to cheongsams and Chinese cuisine?

I’m fourth generation, which means I was raised pretty American. Cantonese wasn’t spoken in my household, I watched a lot of television. Neither of my parents are lawyers or doctors. So growing up, my strongest connection to my Chinese heritage was through my grandpa. He insisted on eating Chinese food for every meal, celebrating Lunar New Year with red envelopes, and always wearing jade (no matter how egregiously it clashed with his outfit). Visits to his house became a touchstone for who I was, and where I came from. 

As a kid, I developed a sort of shame around my race. And it wasn’t until I went to college and studied race and ethnicity as an adult, that I discovered and fostered a pride and appreciation in my heritage, and really leaned into learning more about my people. 

As a kid, I assumed that my Grandpa was from China. The kids in the playground told me I must be from China, so I assumed Grandpa was too. And besides, everything my Grandpa did and liked was Chinese. But it turns out that my Grandpa was born and raised in Oakland and he had the exact same journey as me. He felt racially alienated in school and sought out Chinese history, taught himself Cantonese and started collecting Chinese artifacts, as a way to reclaim who he was. To rewire. I think there’s something deeply profound about our parallel journeys- both turning back and taking the same path, though generations apart. I wanted to include this in Derrick’s own journey, in hopes it will facilitate some movement or critical reflection in young Asian American readers.

And as for the cheongsams, my mom is a hobby seamstress, and when I started doing drag more seriously, we connected over making a cheongsam together. And for what it’s worth, they are HARD to make! That wasn’t the cutest “first sewing project” idea, but with some patience and persistence, we finished it together. Just like in the book! 

I also loved the family themes throughout. The relationship between Derrick and his grandmother Claudia is central to the story. Also, Derrick’s father initially resists his son’s interest in drag but eventually comes to accept them. What made you decide to have this intergenerational connection be so important to Derrick's journey? 

Grandparents are divine shepherds of middle grade stories! Feisty grandmas get away with so much! 

Haha, but in all seriousness, I couldn’t imagine this story without the intergenerational element. In my 12-year-old-on-the-brink-of-teens brain, there was no way that any adult would have anything thought-provoking or game-changing to offer me. But as I was navigating racial shame and homophobia, I realized that that was kind of exactly what I needed. An adult- a cool adult- to show and teach me about all of the paths available to me. And to model that all of these parts can come together in a way that makes me whole and still lovable. 

I definitely pushed my parents away at that age, as one does. But I modeled Claudia’s character after my mom, who has grown into embracing who I am. It was a practice in appreciating all of the elements of her that made me, me, those special things we share. 

The thread about Derrick’s father also comes from a real place for me. I remember when I came out to my parents, one of the first things my dad said was that he was worried my life would be harder. First responses to kid’s coming out are seldom graceful or ideal, and I definitely didn’t receive that well at the time. But I think there’s so much love hiding in those imperfect words. That his first thought wasn’t how wrong I was, or how he didn’t accept me or wish I was different, but it actually came from protective worry. He wanted me to live a happy life, and knowing how the world is, he was afraid this might complicate that. 

It just struck me as real. And so I followed that thread, and wove in a lot of my own dad into Carson’s character. How he’s always pushed me to be the best, and that it all comes from a place of protection, of wanting me to be okay. I didn’t love it as a kid, but now, I look back on this  with new eyes and appreciation.  

What do you hope young readers, especially those questioning their identity, will take away from Derrick's journey?

I hope young readers understand the vast, oceanic multitudes they contain. That they are  limitless. They can be basketball players. Drag queens. Astronauts. Concert pianists. Queer, trans, straight, ace, aro, all of these things at once. Ask for the world. It is never too much.

I hope young readers take away that their uncertainty and pain can feel like a cell, shuttering you off from everything else. But I promise that many, many people have moved through these things before. This heartbreak has all been felt. All you need is the exact right friend, book or movie, to see and understand that. Look out for your reflections.

I hope young readers understand how powerful it is to follow what makes you come alive, to listen to what makes your heart flutter and reach for it with your everything, than to cower to the voices projecting their own misguided fears onto you. That when you follow that path, you will find your people, and you will find who you’re meant to be.  

Was there a particular scene or moment in the book that was especially meaningful for you to write?

When Derrick recalls watching movies with his dad late at night, and his dad mutters the words to the actors onscreen, in perfect time. I once wanted to be an actor, and yearned to be seen in that way. 

And when Claudia talks about why she competed in the Queen Bees pageant- how the girls wouldn’t look her in the eye. I’ve often felt this way, and many times, in queer spaces. It’s what led me to drag.

Where can we find you?

@pandadulce on IG!

What’s next?

I am blessed to have many irons in the fire!

“After What Happened at the Library”: A Debut Feature Film (for adults)

The short film, “After What Happened at the Library,” is a character introduction and proof-of-concept for the eponymous surrealist drama feature film (Comps: “Everything Everywhere All At Once,” “I May Destroy You,” “May December,” “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind”). The short film has been accepted to four Academy Award-qualifying festivals so far in 2025, and won a Special Jury Award at Florida Film Festival. 

The feature (currently in script form) expands on the world of the short film in the days and weeks post-virality, when everyone — friends, authorities, politicians, bad actors — want a piece of Akita.

You’ll meet Akita’s absurdist drag sister Tonya; outspoken, neuroatypical leftist work wifey Eve; and charming, anime-obsessed, autistic twin brother Mikey, as Akita’s mind bends around reality in her struggle to reclaim authorship of her viral story.

Catch the short film at Provincetown Film Festival and Palm Springs ShortsFest (both in June 2025)!

 

“Betty”: A Short Film (for adults)

            Thanks to a short film production grant from NewFest and Concord Music Originals, we are producing a grimy, heartwarming, absurdist drag queen comedy with the same director of “After What Happened at the Library,” Syra McCarthy (“Grey’s Anatomy”, “The Dropout,” “Josephine”).  

            “Betty” follows Betty St. Clair, mother of an all-Asian American drag family (based on my all-Asian American drag family, the Rice Rockettes), as they perform for an all-Cantonese-speaking senior center (also based on a real-life performance at San Francisco’s On-Lok Senior Center). Betty soon discovers her Yeh Yeh (paternal grandfather), who isn’t aware of Betty’s drag persona, is in the audience! Gulp!  

            Will Betty overcome her debilitating self-doubt and her sisters’ poorly-timed backstage hijinks to come out to Yeh Yeh through an epic drag performance??

            This short film premieres at NewFest Pride on June 1st in NYC!

 

“What Kind of Queen?”: A Picture Book on José Sarria” (for kids)

My friend, an LGBTQ+ Historian and I, are releasing a historical children’s picture book on San Francisco drag legend and activist José Sarria, an opera-singing WWII veteran and the founder of the Imperial Court System, a network of regional royal drag courts raising money for charitable LGBTQ+ causes.

Abrams Kids is putting it out in 2026!

 

Book 2 of “The Queen Bees of Tybee County”: A Companion Book (for kids)

Derrick and JJ’s adventure continues in a forthcoming soft sequel/companion book that I am currently drafting! No sneak peeks to speak of yet, but on the foundation of self-reflection and discovery built in the first book, you can expect more light-hearted adventure, as well as developments on JJ and Derrick’s relationship in this second novel.

The sequel is expected to hit shelves in Fall 2026!

            

 Snag a copy of The Queen Bees of Tybee County