Amanda Duarte is the future liberals want and the self-reclaimed “feminazi cunt” that everybody else needs.

Co-creator of the #PussyGrabsBack movement and host of long-running New York City artists’ salon Dead Darlings, the adorable insurgent has engendered another IRL experience for her devout following: Staying Alive, a show about her action-packed post-divorce return to the dating scene, noncommittally inspired by the 1983 John Travolta flick of the same name.

Duarte, a freelance writer who has recapped RuPaul’s Drag Race for The New York Times, explains how penetrating dudes played a part in making her whole.

After your husband cheated and your marriage ended, what sparked the decision to turn lemons into cabaret?

I felt like a helium balloon that had wedged itself into the corner of a room, and then an earthquake leveled the house, and I just started floating upward. The early aftermath of divorce has such an urgency to it, the highs are insanely high and the lows are unfathomable. I was—and still am, really—going through such an intense experience, seeing and feeling things differently than I ever had before. Like, colors are brighter. Sounds are coming out of my mouth that I’ve never made before. I knew that I wanted to document this experience—and sort of live-blogging on stage in cute outfits is generally my preferred medium.

Did you have an audience in mind, or was this project more about catharsis?

I felt that in the current climate a lot of people could relate to being gaslighted, betrayed, abandoned, and scared, and they might want to hear about some of the really fun coping mechanisms I’ve cooked up and eaten. I mean, the president of the United States is having a very public affair with the president of Russia. We see it happening with our own eyes, and yet we are told that it is not happening, that we are going crazy. Every person in this country is being cheated on, gaslighted, and abandoned right now. So I thought I’d offer up my experience as Relatable Content.

You’re backed musically in the show by, among others, Micah Bucey and Nicholas Williams of The Gay Agenda. Cis straight male characters, previously played by trans performer Becca Blackwell, are now played by gay actor-playwright Matthew-Lee Erlbach. Are you creating a safe space, surrounding yourself with positive queer energy?

I just didn’t really feel like having any straight cis men on stage with me. They’re not exactly suffering from a dearth of performance opportunities—and although they are part of this story, they are not the storytellers. Also, I feel very comfortable working and partnering with these people in a way I don’t feel with very many people of any sexuality or gender identity. Most importantly, however, they are attention whores who work for cheap.

Because you were with your ex for more than 20 years, 2018 was your first year cranking up the dating apps. What were your first impressions as a dating app virgin?

My primary observation is that, culturally, we are all so used to the straight male gaze being our main marketing demographic that even straight men instinctually try to sell themselves to it. They post blurry, unflattering shirtless selfies, photos of their motorcycles, their video game consoles, and—oh, my god, they are all holding up fish that they caught! Why? Why? Why? I swear, 95% of straight men on Tinder are actually trying to attract other straight men. I think they actually just want buddies to hang out with. Nothing about their profiles speaks to human women in any way at all. I show my Tinder feed to my gay friends and they are horrified.

What makes you swipe right?

I’m at the point where I’ll swipe right on any man who’s like, “I read a book once.” It’s bleak. I have to take mental health breaks. I’m on one right now. In fact, at this exact moment, I’m sipping weed tea under a heating pad with my cat. Men, if you’re looking to attract me, post photos of yourself holding those things. I can buy fish at the market and motorcycles are death traps and please go make some friends.

Tinder quickly drew you into an intense sexual relationship that positioned you as a pegging dominatrix. How did that hit the spot?

I mean, pegging is just fun, especially when you’re a very small woman and the receiver is a very tall, alpha male type who enjoys a lot of privilege. It’s fun to—literally, sorry—flip the street dynamic and bring those guys to their hands and knees, begging and crying for a cock in their asses. It’s also quite fun, when you are a very small woman going through a massive identity shift and finding her personal and sexual power within The New American Post-C.K. Gender Relations Garbage Fire, to connect that directly with one’s dominant side, to exercise it and build its lean muscle. Domming is like feminist psychosexual CrossFit. It shifts your worldview and lengthens your spine. You walk differently. You talk differently. You can’t help but feel more powerful in other aspects of your life. I strongly feel that all women should do it at least once.

Did pegging make you ponder the plight of queer male tops?

Actually, it gave me a deeper appreciation for queer male bottoms. Tops have it pretty easy—you can stick a dick into any old thing. Bottoms labor. They do everything tops do but backwards in high heels.

How do you identify sexually?

Hung vers omni poly whore.

Have you swiped on any queer men or women?

I have. I’ve dated a couple of women, a trans guy, a queer cis guy, a couple of others. If I were exclusively dating straight cis men, I would expire from boredom. It’s nice to go on a date and actually be asked a question every once in a while.

As a RuPaul’s Drag Race aficionada, you recapped Season 10 for The New York Times. Did you have any concerns taking that gig as a writer who is not a gay man?

Nah.

Fair enough. Out quoted one of your recaps to introduce its annual Out100: “The young are leading us, and I am not one bit mad about it.” You clearly made an impact, shady online comments be damned. Did you realize you were reaching the children?

I found that most of the shady comments were made in the kind of mud-spattering, post-peak-democracy bad faith that every liberal opinion is subjected to these days, so they really didn’t bother me. I received enough positive feedback to know that I was connecting to my inner circle of children whom I love and respect, and if my impact hadn’t moved beyond that ring, I would have been perfectly content. Finding that a larger group of people were connecting to the writing—RuPaul and Michelle Visage tweeted me out a couple times, my beloved goddess Cecily Strong threw me up on her Instagram—was, well, I would say icing on the cake, but I just made two birthday cakes for friends and the thought of cake kinda makes me want to puke right now, so I’ll just say it was rather lovely.

All Stars 4. Any hot takes or predictions?

I think Manila or Trinity will probably take it, but to be honest, neither of them gives me the Ooh Ah Ah Sensation™. I spend most of every episode fantasizing that Monique and Monét will get a show together where they just laugh and kiki and talk about anything. Literally anything. Global geopolitics. Cardi B. Lemon bar recipes. Anything. I would watch those two just sit and sip iced coffee on a park bench for hours.

Amanda Duarte’s Staying Alive residency is at Joe’s Pub in New York.