Bebe and Babs: The Mother Daughter Duo Figuring It Out on Stage

The sweet, electrified lullaby speaks to the pair’s remarkable—yet not unrelatable—love story. After growing apart during Bebe’s teen years, the two managed to reconnect on a new level in 2014 when, instead of simply letting her mother watch her drag shows from the audience, Bebe invited Babs onstage. Their first drag duet was “Mother Stands for Comfort” by Kate Bush, and it confirmed their explosive chemistry. The performance duo Bebe and Babs was born.

Although Bebe has since shifted from focusing on drag to performing her original music, the two still regularly come together to glam up and lip-sync their hearts out on stage or produce video projects, such as Bebe's recent music video for her song “Elaine.”

We asked Bebe and Babs to tell us the story of how they found each other again, what drag has taught them about their bodies, and why some parents find it hard to support their queer children.

BROADLY: To start off, where did Babs raise you, Bebe?
BEBE: I grew up in small town Claremont, which is an hour east of LA. It’s a liberal college town nestled amongst the inland empire track-housing sprawl.

BABS: It's the most idyllic little town to raise children. It’s like cookies and cream and cappuccino. I still have memories of Bebe two years old running around in her pink tutu. I could live there forever in my head.

Babs, what were you doing career-wise at that time in your life?
Babs: My mother lived in Brooklyn and went to Julliard. She was a beautiful pianist and gave everything up, lock stock and barrel, when she married my father. So, every breath I took as a mother was: No, don't lose your sense of yourself. Have your career and have love, too.

When I had Bebe, I was working toward my license to do psychotherapy. So, I was clocking hours part-time toward my license and breastfeeding—I even breast fed while I taught a class in child development. I would breastfeed anywhere, whoever wanted to see it. I was in love with the whole thing.

How long did you live there after Bebe was born?
Babs: Well, my first marriage ended when Bebe was 9 years old. I started writing my first book and got too into focusing on me, and before you knew it, we went through a divorce. And it was rough, it was rough.

Bebe: Growing up as the only child of two Jewish parents, I was very allowed to do whatever I wanted, so I spent all my time in the backyard dancing and fantasizing and playing with Barbies and going to dance class and when things got hard as a kid, I started using that artistic expression as a coping mechanism to escape. … I had friends, but I was alone a lot, so getting to have these moments to shine in dance competitions and then theater, it gave me a sense of ecstasy and that was very addictive.

Things did get pretty tough with mom. Mom was my stage mom, but she was always working on projects. She was not like the other moms. I did my own make up and hair. Mom would get me there, she’d work on her projects, and then she’d watch and cheer me on like no one else. And then scream whenever I won.

When they broke up, we really struggled, we couldn't stop fighting, we couldn't live together anymore. We had some screaming matches that interrupted our relationship for months at a time.

Babs: I think I hyper-focused on my career. I think I really almost reenacted what my mom might have gone through had she grabbed her career back, and I realize as I look back now, your life is your career. … When I look back, I realize much of the performances we do and much of our time together is so precious and so wonderful. I feel like it's making up for lost time.

When did you first start connecting after that?
Bebe: We had a fight that went on for two months, and then it was opening night for one of my plays and mom came to me with a bouquet of roses and got on one knee. That was a moment where we put a little of the teenage hardship [to] the side. And then I went to college [at UC Berkeley] and a little distance really helped. She would come up to Berkeley and [we] would have these amazing times together. Mom is the most amazing traveling buddy, she’s go, go, go, loves adventures, and just loves razzle-dazzling the most boring shit. We re-bonded, and by the time I was out of college, I started doing a lot of theater, which led me to making music, which led me to doing drag performances, and mom would come support me every step of the journey.

Babs: It’s like, we absolutely adore each other, but I never did learn how to cook. We would have fun together, but I just wasn’t good at the house, I just have to tell you. Somehow, we do well every other place, either visiting or on the road or outside. We found a way to make it work. We would sit there and watch Jem and the Holograms over and over again, and we would sing all the songs and, just, she’s my favorite person.

Bebe: Mom, you’re my favorite person.

When was the first time you two performed together?
Bebe: Mom came to every single performance I had. She came to everything. Then, I started doing performances at Aunt Charlie's [in San Francisco]—this is a drag club, it’s a dive.

Babs: It’s the most loving place. You walk in and you feel loved.

Bebe: You have people of all generations doing whatever the fuck they want. And so she came, she saw me. She just loved the vibe. Since I became a regular there [around 2014] it was like, Oh next time obviously I’m gonna throw my mom in a wig and put her on stage. She did a number by herself and it was Barbra Streisand.

Babs: “Love Comes From the Most Unexpected Places.” It was a real tear-jerker. It was very Shakespearean. I would cry and then the audience would cry. And they would stick dollar bills in my boobies—that was the best thing that ever happened. Those dollar bills mean more to me than any other money I have ever made. I loved it.

Bebe: Then every time she came up to do it, it was just the most fun thing in the world. It just became, Hey lets jazz this up with a little Babs.

How did it feel when you started performing together?
Babs: It felt like we had always done it, maybe in another life. It just felt like the most natural thing to do. It feels like we belong together. How corny is that, but that’s just how it feels. She’s just my sun.

Bebe: There’s a way that mom is just so vibrant in her life, especially walking around suburbia, you kinda can’t miss her. She loves bright colors, she loves hot pink and turquoise. She loves putting on extension hair clips just for day wear. So sticking her on stage is not a huge leap. Natural is the right word, it just felt like, why the hell not.

Babs: I’ll tell you where it comes from, that Brooklyn energy. A lot of entertainers came from Brooklyn… My mother was always wanting to be on stage and she stopped it and that was the saddest part of her life. So, I will never stop it. I’ll die on stage.

Babs, have you always been so eccentric in your fashion?
I got to tell you my mom used to cut my hair with a bowl on my head, I think she just wanted me to sit still and play piano eight hours a day. And even when I went to college, it was that time where you wear jeans and you wear no makeup and you go bare foot, but after grad school I met Bebe's dad's mother, and she was a fashionista…Before you knew it, I had the makeup like she did, I dressed to kill, and I’ve been dressing up ever since.

Bebe: It was all grandma, she’s been getting glam for the hell of it since the Thirties.

Babs: It’s about that deep feeling, not a shallow feeling. Bring out your heart and just be silly, let loose. Bebe helped me let loose.

Bebe, was that ever embarrassing to you as a kid?
It never embarrassed me. I was a really awkward teen, my body changed a lot and I gained a lot of weight. I had super low self-esteem, but I combatted that by wearing as bright colors and as crazy outfits as possible, so that I could feel in control of my body even as it was changing. Boys didn’t think I was cute and I was just like, fuck you. Babs gave me that inspiration early on. Make a show of it.

Bebe, you recently came out with an album. Can you tell me about it?
The album is called Scorpio. What I love about that mythology is it’s about transformation from the darkest place into your new next thing, how you are constantly changing and you’re constantly discovering and dying little deaths and being reborn into your true self.

It’s interesting you were talking about your relationship to your body as a teen, and this album seems to also be about that relationship to a certain extent.
Oh, absolutely. I wrote this album deep into my drag exploration, when I was going super far masculine. That was a part of myself I never gave myself permission to explore—and also there’s a lot of impediments for women to reach those parts of their rainbow—so having drag really be the conduit for me to go into all these parts of myself that are not just feminine, flirty, wanting to be loved by men, but this masculine attitude of I dont give a fuck. … Feeling not at home in my body for so much of my life and feeling that my body was my enemy, getting to take on character role play that isn’t about being this swimsuit model but getting to be anything, it really gave back that sense of belonging inside my skin.

A lot of times when queer people are navigating difficult relationships with their bodies they don’t have family by their side. So it’s cool to know that you two have been close throughout this whole process.

Bebe: A hundred percent. I’m so lucky, I’m so lucky.

Babs: With family, I think what happens is that it sets them up to look at themselves. So, parents have to go through: How much am I going to have to examine who I am? And it can be kind of a threat, not just because your child is someone you can’t figure out, but what about yourself? I’m constantly having to look at: Who am I and how do I operate? And so, maybe families are afraid to look inside; never mind having to look at their child. Who are you?