She’s back! The “Cunty” Kevin Aviance, who dressed like a fabulous space alien and ruled ‘90s clubs like Arena, Twilo, and Sound Factory, is reuniting with DJ Junior Vasquez for the Distrkt NYC Pride Closing Party on July 1 in Queens, New York.

Aviance was gay-bashed in 2006 and hospitalized for a month, dealt with substance abuse, and underwent a double hip replacement surgery due to having performed in stiletto heels for decades. His continuing fabulousness despite it all is truly something to marvel at. I talked to Kevin about his plight, his pain, and his joy.

Hello, Kevin. What is it like to reunite with Junior Vasquez for the WorldPride closing party?

I love it. It’s like when people get together and they don’t really talk that much, like old family members you grew up with. You pick up where you left off. It’s very that.

You had taken a lot of time off your career.

It’s been sporadic. The last eight to 10 years, I’ve done gigs here and there with Junior when he’s also in town. This WorldPride event was very important. We’re gearing up for the 50th anniversary of Stonewall, and everybody and their grandmother will be out. Old and young and everything. I’m also doing the Central Park rally for Reclaim Pride’s Queer Liberation March on Pride Day. And I’m working on my album called The Black Queen and I’m trying to get the single out for Pride.

Congrats on your re-ascendance. We were all horrified in 2006, when you were gay-bashed by a gang outside the East Village bar Phoenix. Four of them were imprisoned as a result. What was the aftermath for you?

I took time to take care of Kevin. After the beating, I went crazy a little bit. No one told me that was going to happen. I kept working—campaigning against violence so nothing would happen to other people. It was crazy because then my mom died. She was my best friend. She protected me and allowed me to be who I wanted to be. As a kid, I didn’t have to go to the playground. I could go to the basement with my thousand albums and get wrapped in music. It’s a blessing I can talk to you right now because I truly went there. I tried to keep myself together. I was self-medicating and everything. I was down to 115 pounds. I ended up going to rehab.

What was the response to you having been attacked?

I was getting hand claps and people applauding for me, and I was taking it the wrong way. I get applauded for doing a show. In this case, I’m not doing anything, so what are you applauding me for? I felt bad about taking the applause.

For being a victim?

Yeah, it felt weird for me. Your head goes into another space. You go crazy drinking or whatever. People said, “You’re really sad." I told them what was going on. Then I did rehab. A lot of people didn’t know what was going on. People that did know were very supportive. But the club scene was dying at that time and a lot of people passed away. It was a crazy time, so I had to save myself a little bit. A lot of bit.

I heard that RuPaul reached out to you after you were bashed.

I’m just hearing the story now that she did. A lot of people reached out to me—Tyra [Banks], Janet [Jackson], some other girls. I gagged every day when I found out. When you’re going through that, you don’t think about thank you notes. You see all the flowers. It was so surreal. The one person I remember the most was Flawless Mother Sabrina [late drag icon, from the documentary The Queen]. She was the first person after surgery who came through with daisies and said, “You’re very important. You have to make it. You can’t leave us like this.” There was a line of people waiting to come in. I’ll never forget her.

What do you say to other queers in order to stay safe, especially with hate crimes on the rise?

Everyone needs to be aware of everyone around them. If someone needs help, be there for them. Don’t be silent. Those that are being beaten—run. Don’t sit there and try to fight. Get the hell out of there, if you can. It’s so heartbreaking, the thought of people cutting you down for who you are. I struggle with giving back and trying to be out there for that person, and it brings me back to that moment so fiercely like it was yesterday.

I’m doing much better with it. For a long time, I couldn’t talk about it. I’m even stuttering about it now. That was the effect that it gave me. I now have worked through it. It’s one of those things where this could happen again. You’ve got to tell people where you’re going. Let people know. Be accountable. That’s the only way people can stop these people. Hate is hate. If they were educated and knew what’s going on, no one would hate. They should have that conversation, sit at the table. We are human beings, we bleed. When you do evil and bad, you affect all the family and friends. People need to see the brothers and sisters and uncles of these lives they’re taking away.

We’re 50 years into the gayness, into the drama, into turning it out, into the damned rainbow and, meanwhile, they’re taking people out. It’s not cute. Are we supposed to have a revolt? Rise up now? Sooner or later, I think it’s going to happen. After Pulse, that was a scary gay Pride. Everybody’s face was, “Okay, girl, we’re ready for you.”

The pain and tension hung thick in the air. On a much lighter note, I hear that the latest Drag Race winner, Yvie Oddly, and you have some mutual admiration going on.

I live for her. Out of all the queens, this is the queen I live for.

She’s like the new you.

I think the Drag Race queens are great. They’re really fun and we all get along. But this Yvie child, she got me. She’s a freak!

I know you feel there are too many drag stars out there.

I don’t know if you remember the time when all the queens were out, all doing eight jobs a week. It was a place you had to be—a hierarchy or level you had to be at. Now, I feel, it’s a global thing because of the internet and everything, but I’d like to see the real stuff that goes on with them, as opposed to the paint by numbers pictures. It’s all so perfect. Okay, where’s the grit to the drag? Where’s all that at? I want to see the downside of the drag, too.

What do you think about Pose?

I live for Pose. Gay, black or Latino, when you see something on TV or any screen that is talking directly to you, to the masses, whether you think it’s good or not, it’s amazing. My favorite movie is Mahogany. I gag through it. It’s not camp to me. I see Pose and I see my friends that have passed and I see the repression of our people. Pepper LaBeija, Dorian Corey, and Angie Xtravaganza—hello. These people were taken away from us so fast and people have no idea how fierce they were. To be in a club, watching all these people!

Who are your best friends on the scene today? I know you’re close with singer Ari Gold.

Ari is my best friend. That’s my sweetheart. That’s my heart. He is my lifeline—where I go to for everything.

People always remember your performances and tell you, “You have inspired me.” How does that make you feel?

It’s fab. Every day is a beautiful day for me. I don’t think about the past too much and when I go towards my day and people say, “I remember this” or “The first time I did this or that, you were on stage,” I think, “Oh, my God.” I get what they’re talking about and I love it. When the clubs were really big and closing down, a lot of girls that were doing stuff worked between 10 p.m. to 4 a.m. So I did 4 a.m. to the next day! I remember seeing all those girls in the audience, and I got to perform a lot. I miss that part of it.

Was there any controversy about you singing the word “Cunty”?

Yes, in London. It was their Sunday night party in their big club and I did “Cunty” and no one clapped. They said absolutely nothing. I thought, “Okay, what’s going on here?” I got back to New York and they pretty much wanted to ban the song. “No one wants to hear a song about being called cunty.” They took it the wrong way. But once, I did “Cunty” in a lesbian bar, I don’t remember what city. It was a whole other level. They loved it. It was real. The look on their faces was…Wow, this is a whole other level of cunty here. They were teaching me about it.