Finding his people, and his beautiful self

Fitzgerald Webb was born for the spotlight. But it was an intimate crowd — family and a few close friends — that gathered for one of the biggest events of his life. It was the evening he would see his new chest.

But more on that later.

Growing up female in Fortson, a small town between LaGrange and Columbus, Webb sang in musicals and played drums in his high school marching band. He danced with a candle on his head for the Pandanggo sa ilaw, or “dance of lights,” in cultural productions for his mom’s Filipino American club. But even as he reveled in those performances, something felt off.

“I remember feeling like there’s got to be more than this,” Webb says. “I wasn’t being my true self.”

Sometimes he made discoveries that brought him closer to his authentic self, but that didn’t please other people. He recalled getting in trouble for watching the gender-expansive cult classic “The Rocky Horror Picture Show.”

“My dad was upset. I was like, ‘I don’t get it, they’re all beautiful people.’ What was the issue?”

While attending Auburn University in Alabama, Webb made a group of queer friends who broadened his knowledge of gender and sexuality. As he began to better understand himself, getting on stage was a pivotal part of the journey.

One summer Webb enrolled in a drag camp hosted by local performers to help newcomers learn drag and compete. Performing as a man, he found, felt right. He began to see why as a child he had hated his clothes and been horrified when his breasts began to grow in.

Drag was “the only gender expression I had,” says Webb, who still identified as a woman at the time. “I could be this whole different person.”

After graduating in 2018 Webb had two major realizations: That he wasn’t a “she” and that he wanted to continue performing drag. But being in Alabama made things challenging.

When he decided to transition from female to male, finding gender-affirming care ― while possible — was unpleasant. “Getting on testosterone in Alabama was an awful experience,” he says. He felt judged and belittled by the people working in the doctor’s office.

And though there was a drag community, it was relatively small and not ideal for growing as a half-Black, half-Asian performer.

Atlanta, a city regarded as the LGBTQ+ capital of the South, seemed a natural next step. In 2022, Webb and his long-term partner Emmy Patterson moved to Atlanta.

Upon his arrival, Webb immediately started booking gigs at bars like Mary’s in East Atlanta Village and Red Light Cafe in Midtown. And he took another significant step in his journey. For years he had bound his breasts to align with his gender identity, but in January he had top surgery.

Two days later he invited his friends over to reveal to everyone, including himself, what lay under the bandages.

In his hallway hung a mirror. Years earlier he had written across it the words: “I love you. You are beautiful. You can do anything.”

Once the bandages were removed, Webb walked to the mirror and took a first look at his new body. His face lit up with joy.

“I was so excited” he remembers. “I still think I’m in awe.”

AJC photographer Arvin Temkar spent six months with Webb, documenting his top surgery, performances and daily life to give an intimate look at how one transgender drag performer has found himself and his community in Atlanta.

While some transgender people distance themselves from their former identities, Webb maintains a close relationship with his past. He kept his birth name or “deadname” ― Do’Nyal — as his middle name. “My proudest moments wouldn’t be my proudest moments if it wasn’t for the journey I had before,” he says.

Webb’s drag king name is Tucker Aye Alxndr. He is part of the House of Alxndr, headed by prominent Atlanta drag queen and activist Taylor Alxndr. Drag performers often form “houses” that represent chosen families. Drag mothers and fathers offer support that birth families might not, as well as help performers with business and their craft.

Webb, pictured with Sadie, one of his three dogs, works from home as a content marketing manager. It took a little more than three weeks before he could return to work after surgery, because of complications.

Webb’s family, including his mother Rose (pictured), sister Dyamante and father Larry, came to support him during his top surgery at Parker Plastic Surgery in Watkinsville in January. Though his parents didn’t understand his desire to transition at first, they have come to accept it. “As long as it makes him happy, then we’re all for that,” Rose says.

A Parker Plastic Surgery staff member and Patterson (right) help Webb to the car after his 4.5-hour outpatient surgery. He found his surgeon through word-of-mouth from friends in Atlanta’s queer community.

In the weeks after surgery Webb couldn’t lift his arms. Patterson, with help from her mother who is a nurse, bathed him, fed him and took care of the house and the dogs during his recovery.

Following surgery, Webb’s chest was bandaged and drains were used to prevent fluid buildup.

He has been undergoing testosterone therapy since 2021.

Following surgery, Webb’s chest was bandaged and drains were used to prevent fluid buildup.

Friends, including drag mother Taylor Alxndr (left), gathered for Webb’s chest reveal in January. He chose to remove his nipples, which he says feels more in line with his nonbinary identity. “It was really beautiful,” says Alxndr of the experience. “I feel very fortunate to have witnessed it and been there.”

On his way to performances, Webb often drives by Midtown Atlanta’s rainbow crosswalks, which were updated in 2024 to include black and brown stripes, representing communities of color, and blue and white stripes, in honor of the transgender flag.

Webb takes comfort in Atlanta’s LGBTQ+ community, especially in light of an uptick in physical and online attacks in the wake of increased legislation restricting LGBTQ rights. The drag community has created the Drag Defense Handbook to respond to what it calls ”an ongoing epidemic of threats, harassment, bans and discrimination.” “I’m genuinely terrified,” Webb says. “But I’m grateful for the community and support I have.”

Now fully recovered from top surgery, Webb was booked at more than 20 events in June for Pride Month, including back in Auburn.

At his first show after surgery, Tucker showed off his new chest to friends.

Webb is active in the LGBTQ+ community. Here he helps volunteers sort clothing for Queer Threads, a pop-up thrift shop put on by Southern Fried Queer Pride.

At Mary’s gay bar in East Atlanta Village, Tucker performed the Pandanggo sa ilaw for Asian American and Pacific Islander heritage month in May.

Signs light up the outside of Lore, a dancing and drag bar on Edgewood Avenue.

At Mary’s gay bar in East Atlanta Village, Tucker performed the Pandanggo sa ilaw for Asian American and Pacific Islander heritage month in May.

Webb and Patterson plan to wed next year.

In 2023, Tucker was crowned Mx. Mugcheck 2023 as part of the Mugcheck competition for up-and-coming drag performers.

Apart from the large LGBTQ community, one of the things Webb loves about Atlanta is the racial diversity. “When we moved I remember we went to Kroger ... it hit me (that) I’m not the only Black person in this store,” he says. “I started crying in the middle of the aisle.” When he told his friends, they teased him that he went to the “Blackest Kroger in the city.”

Drag kings are typically less known than drag queens. Television’s popular “RuPaul’s Drag Race” has never cast a drag king contestant. Tucker and his community of kings are working to increase visibility in Atlanta and beyond.

Through song and dance, Tucker conveys a message he wishes he had known when he was growing up: “Loving yourself and living your truth is really hard,” he says. “But once you can do those things, it’s so worth it.”