Atasha Manila, the 'OG Drag Queen' of Beacon Hill, Won't Let Hate Win

It's Wednesday night at Baja Bistro, and local drag performer Atasha Manila, decked out in a floor-length teal and black dress that hugs her curves and a coiffed wig to match, is out on the corner of Beacon Avenue South and South McClellan Street, waving down passersby with her rainbow fan. It's "Super Gay Wednesdays" at Baja Bistro, Beacon Hill's only Mexican- and gay-owned bar, and Manila is trying to fill up the house before she performs. 

"Come in, you homosexuals, come on!" she entices. "You know you want to come in!"

People waiting at the light smile and laugh with her, and she recruits a couple more curious visitors before returning to the bar at Baja Bistro. She kicks off the night with a dramatic and campy lip-synch to "I'm Here" from The Color Purple musical, then follows with "Eternal Flame" by the Bangles. 

A small but devoted crowd sings along with her, stuffing dollar bills in the top of her dress as she dances between the tables. After a costume change, she emerges in a black jumper covered in sequined flowers and lip-synchs to Selena's "Como la Flor" and "Bidi Bidi Bom Bom," with the crowd singing along. 

"She's our OG drag queen," said Baja Bistro owner Oscar Castro. "Everything about the neighborhood says 'Atasha.' We've seen her grow up. We've seen her become the woman that she is now, and we're very proud of her. We want to see her be successful for a long time." 

It's been about four months since Manila returned to perform at Baja Bistro's newish space on Beacon Avenue South (it reopened in 2023), next to Filipino restaurant CheBogz, a block that Manila lovingly refers to as a "Mexipino" corner.

"She gets the attention of people driving by," said Castro. "They'll honk. She's out there like some enormous, beautiful bird, and people love watching her."

Manila's shows are somewhat notorious for spilling out into the sidewalk and the street outside Baja. It was a regular occurrence when she performed in Baja's original, and much smaller, location at 2414 Beacon Ave. S. before the pandemic. In that 1,000-square-foot space, people packed in shoulder to shoulder to see the performer. Without much room to work with, Manila would sometimes get up on the bar or continue her performance outside, attracting the attention of passersby, or "gay boys in their cars."

The Woman That She Is

Manila has called Beacon Hill home for 25 years, ever since she moved there with her family from the Philippines in 2000. She started working at Delite Bakery, a Filipino bakery, and then, in 2007, she became a server at Inay's Asian Pacific Cuisine, a beloved Beacon Hill spot for classic Filipino dishes. Inay's owner, Ernie Rios, affectionately known as "Uncle Ernie," noticed that Manila would sometimes come to work wearing makeup. He encouraged her expression, and soon enough, Manila became a local sensation, serving food and lip-synching songs from the Dreamgirls soundtrack in full drag. The rest was Beacon Hill history.

Rios bought Manila her first drag dress and wig, and eventually turned an Inay's storage closet into a drag closet for Manila. Patrons both local and from other neighborhoods would come out to catch Manila's show every Friday night, when she would lip-synch as well as serve up dishes from the kitchen. 

"Inay's is where it all started," Manila said. "Uncle Ernie made it possible. Even my drag mother, Alexa Manila, would say, 'I adopted you!' because Uncle Ernie was my original drag mother.

Inay's closed in 2016, and in 2023, its location on the intersection of 15th Avenue and Beacon Avenue South was permanently torn down. Manila's performances lived on at Baja Bistro's original location, just a two-minute walk down the street. She performed weekly during "Super Gay Wednesdays" at Baja, and also at Capitol Hill gay clubs Neighbours and R Place.

Owning 'These Streets'

Manila stopped doing drag when the world came to a halt during the pandemic lockdown, and Baja closed its original location. When in-person gatherings weren't a possibility, many performers turned to online and virtual shows, but that wasn't ideal for Manila. "I had a really difficult time performing in front of the camera without seeing any people. I'm not used to performing for the camera. I needed to feel that energy from the people."

The pandemic isolation took a toll on Manila's mental health, and she was further impacted by the loss of one of her drag sisters, La Saveona Manila Hunt. "I just miss her so much. … She helped me find my true identity. She encouraged me," Manila said, adding that Hunt went with her to her first medical appointment after Manila came out as trans. "All I can do is just continue what she started. I always dedicate every single show to her."

Manila admits that she sometimes has "difficulty getting into drag once in a while, since I have a little bit of a struggle with mental health … but I said to myself, if I stop doing drag, what am I going to do?"

Encouraged by her drag mother Aleksa Manila and other community members, and inspired by the legacy of trans trailblazers Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera, she slowly started making her way back to performance. There was another impetus, too: a new administration that targets LGBTQ+ people and immigrants was the final straw. 

"It really does [have a] big effect on me, because the people that are affected, the people that I care about the most — it's my community that's being attacked," she said. "After Trump became president, I really pushed myself to come out to perform, because our people need to be seen. We need to take up space. By not showing up, we're basically giving up, and I am not gonna let them win."

Manila takes up her glorious space every first and third Wednesday night at Baja Bistro, both in and outside of the bar. 

"Even when she's performing, she'll go out there to the intersection, and her lips are still in sync with the song playing inside the restaurant. So you know she's doing her shit right," said Castro. "You're not going to confine her. She owns those streets!"