We recently connected with Pressure K and have shared our conversation below.

Pressure, looking forward to hearing all of your stories today. I’m sure there have been days where the challenges of being an artist or creative force you to think about what it would be like to just have a regular job. When’s the last time you felt that way? Did you have any insights from the experience?

I’m definitely happier as an artist — even on the hard days. It’s not just about performing; it’s about creating something that feels like mine, something that actually means something. A regular job might come with a steady paycheck, but it never gave me the kind of purpose or freedom that performing does.

The last time I thought about going back to a “normal” job was right before King of Drag (America’s first drag king competition show airing on RevryTV) casting. I was honestly at a breaking point — tired, questioning everything, wondering if it was time to just hang it up. My wife had just had surgery, and I didn’t want her to have to keep working all that overtime while I chased a dream that felt so far away. I remember sitting there, scrolling through job listings, feeling like maybe it was time to be “practical.”

But something in me couldn’t let go. I told myself, “Just give it one more shot.” And not long after that, King of Drag came into my life. That moment reminded me that sometimes you have to be on the edge of quitting to find out how bad you really want it.

Now, every time I step on stage, I think about that night — the fear, the doubt, and the decision to keep going. That’s why I’ll always choose art. Because the reward hits different when you almost gave it all up.

Pressure, before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?

I started drag as a place for my ego to go. When I was newly 18, I’d see people doing “shows” at the club — no makeup, no costumes, just lip syncing. I didn’t even realize drag could be art until over a decade later, when I saw King Perka Sexx. He was the first king I ever saw with makeup, choreography, and real stage presence — and it lit a fire in me.

My drag lives in the world of early-2000s Atlanta trap and dance music — that loud, confident, bass-heavy energy I grew up on. But I love R&B too, and I can slow it down when I want to. Style-wise, I wear all the clothes I wasn’t “allowed” to wear as a teenager because they were considered boy clothes. Now I get to reclaim that and make it look powerful.

What sets me apart is the way I bring storytelling and swagger together — I’m not just performing a song, I’m embodying a whole moment. I want people to feel that spark of confidence that comes from owning who you are out loud.

I’m most proud of sticking with it — especially when I almost walked away. King of Drag reminded me why I started: to show that kings can bring the same energy, polish, and passion as anyone else. Pressure K isn’t just a stage name — it’s a mindset.

In your view, what can society to do to best support artists, creatives and a thriving creative ecosystem?

If society really wants to support artists — especially drag artists — it starts with visibility and opportunity. Kings, and especially kings of color, are constantly fighting to be seen and respected in spaces that claim to celebrate “diversity.”

I hate going to shows that are all queens, or even worse, all white queens — especially in a city like Atlanta that’s built on Black creativity. There’s no reason our stages shouldn’t reflect that same energy and representation.

Supporting us means booking us, paying us fairly, promoting our work, and giving us the same spotlight that’s handed to others. Kings bring a whole different energy to drag — storytelling, masculinity, humor, vulnerability — and we deserve to be part of the conversation.

If you want a thriving creative scene, you have to make space for everybody in it.

Have you ever had to pivot?

The last time I had to pivot ended up being a blessing in disguise. For about three years, I was working with my ex-mentor — doing comedy, hosting parties, and bringing in steady money. It was comfortable, but when that partnership ended, I felt lost. I didn’t know what was next, and for a minute, I thought maybe the ride was over.

But right before things fell apart, I had landed a big drag booking — one of my first major ones — and I killed that performance. After the fallout, I decided to lean into that momentum and see where it took me. I started doing open stages, getting more drag bookings, and before I knew it, I was building something completely my own.

That moment taught me that sometimes the universe will clear a path for you — even if it feels like chaos in the moment. Losing that situation pushed me to bet on myself, and it led me straight to the career I was meant to have.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSd6otnw2RnXfwhxhZgR4sBGyZhrzCwcqj978SKFpSoGbBoBUg/viewform
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/pressurek.atl?igsh=NGJlZnVld3JvNGNr
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/share/1AkNUTMRUL/?mibextid=wwXIfr
• Youtube: https://youtube.com/@pressurek.dragking?si=ny-2R7VNc2Brl85w
• Other: link.revry.com/PressureK
  pressurek.printify.me

Image Credits

Scott Youngblood
Silo Studio