Harvey Fierstein says he is no longer interested in performing simply for the sake of staying visible.

At 72, the actor, playwright and four-time Tony Award winner says the reason he appears on stage less often is straightforward: the work no longer excites him.“I’ve been offered a few things,” he says, “and everything I’ve read just bored the shit out of me.”Instead, Fierstein keeps to a disciplined routine of 10-hour workdays, dividing his time between writing and quilting.

He is also writing a book about quilting, a pursuit he describes with the same seriousness he once reserved for theatre. His focus remains on meaningful work rather than constant performance.Even without appearing regularly on stage, Fierstein’s influence remains firmly embedded in contemporary theatre.

A new off-Broadway production of La Cage aux Folles is scheduled for June, starring Billy Porter, while a revival of Kinky Boots has opened in London featuring Johannes Radebe.For Fierstein, Kinky Boots continues to resonate because it addresses emotional conflicts that remain universal.

Adapted from the 2005 British film and featuring music by Cyndi Lauper, the musical tells the story of a struggling shoe factory owner in Northampton who saves the family business by partnering with a drag queen to create footwear for drag performers.

The production premiered in Chicago in 2012 before moving to Broadway, where it won six Tony Awards and established itself as a global commercial success.Fierstein says the heart of the show is often misunderstood.

While many see it as a bright, energetic musical built around drag performance, he argues its emotional core lies elsewhere.“What I love most about Kinky Boots is a lot of times men get dragged to see musicals—heterosexual men—and they sort of put up with it,” he says.

“But Kinky Boots, women love it, but it’s for men.”He describes it primarily as a story about fathers and sons, and about the tension between parental expectations and personal truth. Men, he says, often struggle to discuss those emotional conflicts openly.Born in Brooklyn, New York, Fierstein grew up in a Jewish household with his father, a handkerchief manufacturer, his mother, who later became a school librarian, and his older brother Ron, who would later become his longtime manager.

His earliest connection to performance came through his mother, who regularly took the family to Broadway shows. At home, Fierstein would sing show tunes in his room, imagining himself as leading ladies such as Mary Martin, Ethel Merman and Chita Rivera.

His sexuality entered family conversation unexpectedly when his parents discovered nude photographs he had taken of two friends posing on his mother’s bed. He recalls his mother reacting with anger, saying they had “raised a queer,” that she could not trust him and that he had broken her heart.Yet he says there was no demand to change and no formal rejection.

Instead, there was what he describes as a quiet, unspoken acceptance.As a child, Fierstein also struggled with body image. He was particularly self-conscious about his weight and recalls taping down what he called his “boy boobs” with bandages. Asked when he finally became comfortable with himself, his answer is immediate.“Never,” he says.

He believes that discomfort is common among actors, who often feel safer disappearing into characters than confronting themselves directly.“I think anybody who acts is a chameleon that just never really is comfortable with themselves,” he says. “They’re much more comfortable hiding inside a character.”

His perspective on insecurity extends beyond sexuality. Fierstein rejects the idea that self-doubt belongs primarily to gay men, arguing that it is universal.“Heterosexuals are self-loathing as well,” he says. “Nobody judges you as badly as you judge yourself. I don’t think that’s just a gay thing. It takes a lot of work to love yourself.”

He says that growing up, he assumed his life would follow the same milestones as those of his straight peers: long-term love, partnership and family. It was only later, stepping into the wider world, that he realised society did not necessarily expect or allow the same future for him.

After studying at Pratt Institute in Brooklyn, where he focused on ceramics, Fierstein became immersed in New York’s underground theatre scene during the early 1970s. He also spent time in the West Village, then a centre of gay life and political unrest.Although he was not present during the Stonewall riots in 1969, he was among the crowds gathered the following day.

It was a period shaped by both liberation and instability, with sexual freedom existing alongside deep social stigma.By the time he graduated in 1973, he was performing in experimental productions, including Andy Warhol’s Pork.

His now-famous gravelly baritone voice developed early, partly due to overdeveloped false vocal cords and partly from permanent damage caused by screaming too loudly on stage.His major breakthrough came with Torch Song Trilogy, a series of plays he wrote and starred in beginning in 1978.

Eventually combined into a four-hour Broadway production, the work followed a Jewish drag queen navigating love, heartbreak, family conflict and the search for dignity.The material drew heavily from Fierstein’s own life, including his experiences with drag performance, casual sex, romantic disappointment and his relationship with his mother.

It arrived at a moment when openly gay stories were still largely absent from mainstream commercial theatre.The production became both a critical and cultural milestone. Fierstein was promoted as one of the first openly gay writers to achieve major Broadway success with openly gay material.

Torch Song Trilogy ran for three years and earned him Tony Awards for Best Play and Best Actor in 1983.That success, followed by his adaptation of La Cage aux Folles, established him as one of Broadway’s most prominent writers.During that period, he also became known for publicly defending gay identity in mainstream media.

In a widely remembered interview with journalist Barbara Walters, Fierstein responded to questions about homosexuality with directness and calm.When asked what it was like to be homosexual, he replied: “What’s it like to be heterosexual? I don’t know, I’m just a person.”He also challenged the framing of homosexuality as illness or abnormality, arguing that it had always existed throughout human history and should be understood as part of normal human life.

But as his career accelerated, the AIDS crisis transformed everything.“In the summer of 1982, Aids slammed into us like a tsunami,” he says.He lost friends, former lovers and partners as the epidemic devastated New York’s gay community. He says he does not carry survivor’s guilt, largely because many of his closest friends also survived, but he remembers the period as one of relentless grief.

“I was surrounded by sick people,” he says. “Imagine seeing somebody for dinner and then finding out that they took their own life that night.”He also remembers the political response with anger. Public officials and public discourse often framed AIDS as a “gay disease,” turning medical crisis into moral judgment.“They were talking about putting us in encampments,” he says.

“That’s the first thing they think of: lock everybody up. They don’t think of dealing with the problem.”For Fierstein, the lessons of that era remain relevant. Theatre, identity and politics are inseparable because all are ultimately about visibility and dignity.

Even now, whether writing musicals, stitching quilts or reflecting on survival, he approaches the work the same way: honestly, without apology, and with little patience for performance that lacks substance.

A London-based performer known by the stage persona Midgitte Bardot is using drag, writing and live performance to examine social attitudes toward dwarfism, gender identity and public scrutiny, drawing on personal experience to inform their work on prominent cultural stages.

The artist, who identifies as a non-binary trans drag performer with dwarfism, has gained recognition for combining provocative performance with autobiographical storytelling.

Appearing in fishnets and theatrical costume as Midgitte Bardot, they have developed a reputation for performances that challenge audience expectations and address issues of identity, representation and social perception.

Their work gained wider attention through participation in Sound of the Underground, a queer cabaret revue created by Travis Alabanza. In one performance, the artist delivered a blues-rock number while elevated on stage equipment, incorporating visual and thematic elements that drew a strong audience response at the Royal Court Theatre.

The performer has since returned to the stage with a new production, Shooting From Below, presented at the Southbank Centre. The show marks their first major appearance following spinal surgery undertaken after a condition that risked paralysis.

According to the performer, spinal complications are relatively common among individuals with dwarfism, and their own condition involves curvature in the lower spine.

The production centres on a fictional narrative in which the stage character addresses an audience directly, framing the performance around themes of historical marginalisation and contemporary objectification.

The performer cites examples, including accounts of individuals with dwarfism being treated as novelty figures in social settings, to illustrate ongoing patterns of exclusion and commodification.In interviews, the artist has described frequent public interactions that they say reflect intrusive curiosity and harassment.

They report being stared at, filmed without consent and subjected to personal questions in public spaces, including inquiries about their body, family background and personal relationships. Such encounters, they say, occur regularly in everyday settings such as streets and public transport.

The performer notes that these experiences have shaped both their artistic direction and personal outlook. While they emphasise that such behaviour does not represent the majority of interactions, they argue that it reflects broader social attitudes toward visible difference.

They also describe concerns about being followed after initiating casual conversations in public, which they say has influenced how they navigate social situations.Their work engages with historical representations of dwarfism in entertainment, which they describe as marked by exploitation and limited roles.

They reference examples from film and popular culture in which individuals with dwarfism have been depicted as symbolic or comedic figures, often reinforcing stereotypes. According to the performer, opportunities in the arts sector can be accessible but frequently involve forms of representation that they consider reductive.

The performer also references historical accounts, including the case of a family of performers with dwarfism who survived detention during the Holocaust after being selected for medical experimentation by Nazi physician Joseph Mengele.

They cite this example to illustrate what they describe as a contradictory dynamic in which individuals with dwarfism have been both marginalised and subjected to intense scrutiny.Midgitte Bardot, as a stage persona, is intended to challenge these dynamics by reclaiming language and reframing identity through performance.

The artist says the name deliberately references a historically derogatory term, recontextualised to assert control over its meaning. Through humour and narrative, the performances incorporate personal experiences, including instances of rejection and discrimination, into structured theatrical material.

The artist describes their approach as rooted in self-acceptance and visibility. They say their earlier life was shaped by attempts to conform, but that their current work reflects a conscious decision to foreground difference as a central element of their identity.

They also link this perspective to their understanding of gender, noting that their experiences have informed their identification as non-binary.Born in Gloucester and raised in Cheltenham, the performer recalls early experiences of being perceived as different from peers, which led them to begin writing at a young age.

They continued to develop this practice academically, studying creative writing at Liverpool John Moores University, where they graduated with top honours.During their university years, they began participating in literary and performance events, including hosting open mic nights.

Their transition into drag performance followed encouragement from peers, including a fellow performer known as Auntie Climax. The Midgitte Bardot persona gained local recognition in Liverpool, leading the artist to relocate to London in 2021 to pursue broader opportunities within the performance circuit.

The performer says their understanding of gender identity evolved alongside their work in drag. They describe observing differences in how they and others were perceived in public, particularly in relation to attention and scrutiny, which contributed to their self-identification as non-binary trans.

They also emphasise the importance of directly addressing harassment, rather than ignoring it. According to the performer, confronting such behaviour can deter repeat incidents and challenge assumptions about vulnerability.

They argue that advising individuals with dwarfism to avoid confrontation may reinforce perceptions of weakness.Looking ahead, the performer says they hope their current production will resonate with other individuals with dwarfism and contribute to the development of a more supportive community.

They note that their experiences performing in major venues are often marked by isolation, as they are frequently the only person with their physical characteristics on stage.

Their work continues to explore how visibility, performance and narrative can be used to address social attitudes, with a focus on expanding representation and creating space for more diverse perspectives within the arts.