An actor waits for his scene, loitering at the edge of the rehearsal studio, mug of tea in hand, dressed unremarkably in khaki T-shirt and grey shorts. But when he walks out into the room, something doesn’t compute. On his feet are a pair of fabulous red high heels, made of satin and mesh, with a killer gradient.

This is a rehearsal for Miss Meena and the Masala Queens, the story of a drag queen who runs a once-successful Birmingham drag club, but the glitter is fading on her career. It’s told from a British Asian perspective and, as writer Harvey Virdi explains, sets out to challenge a few delusions: “You talk to people of a certain generation and they say, ‘There are no gay Punjabi boys, there are no gay Sikh boys.’” Miss Meena, we learn, has been ostracised by her family for 20 years.

Next, in front of the studio mirror at Watford Palace theatre, two actors wiggle their way through Hawa Hawaii, the camp Bollywood classic from the film Mr India. Come the premiere, they’ll be doing it in four-inch heels with Carmen Miranda-style pineapples on their heads, but Virdi is quick to point out that this isn’t a musical or a cabaret, rather a searching story of “the courage it takes to be able to stand up and say, ‘This is how I’m going to live my life’”.



Keen to write a realistic portrayal of that struggle between personal identity, culture and family, Virdi and director Pravesh Kumar went clubbing. They toured the UK’s gay Asian (“gaysian”) club nights and talked to the men they met there, many of them married with children and living double lives.



‘Snap a lash!’ … Asifa Lahore, left, with Harvey Virdi at Watford Palace. Photograph: Linda Nylind/The Guardian

One show consultant, however, has certainly not been leading a secretive life. Asifa Lahore is Britain’s first out Muslim drag queen, with a signature stripping act that features a burqa. Lahore has been helping the cast with some tricks of the trade. Walking in those heels, for a start. “Roll your hips,” she advises, “keep your chest forward, focus on a central object as you’re walking.”

Then there’s hair removal (“waxing, shaving, sugaring”) and makeup. “Every British Asian drag queen wants to look like an Asian bride, but makeup for women is totally different to makeup for drag. With Asian skin, the stubble can be quite harsh and dark, so getting rid of the beard is the first challenge.”



Finally comes the padding and tucking that transforms a male body’s topography. “Tucking they were very, very intrigued by,” says Lahore. “Once they’d seen the duct tape and everything.” Were they a little scared? “A little is an understatement,” she laughs.



Asifa Lahore’s provocative act

Most of all, however, the actors wanted to know about Lahore’s day to day life, and how drag affected it. It’s no big deal, it seems, as Lahore breezily recalls her stroll through Watford town centre this sunny afternoon. “I walked from the station to here, and besides a couple of wolf whistles at the building site over there, I don’t get any looks or people attacking me in any way.”



Things have not always been so easy. When Lahore came out to her parents, aged 23, they took her to the GP then to the imam. “People assume it was from a place of malice, but it was more from a place of not getting what it was about. Being LGBT just doesn’t sit in the British Asian psyche.”



It’s taken some time – it’s a decade since Lahore came out – but her family are now very supportive, along with most of the community, if not all. “There are some weddings we don’t get invited to,” she says.



Lahore talks about how the “diaspora bubble” can keep attitudes stuck in the past: immigrant communities hold on to the values prevalent in their home countries when they left, despite things changing there in the interim. In India, a bill protecting transgender rights was passed ast year. “It’s illegal to be LGB out there,” says Lahore. “But it’s totally legal to be T. Trans people and drag queens perform at weddings.”



As for the British gaysian scene, Lahore says it’s healthier than ever. “I’d say in the last decade the number of Asian drag queens has multiplied four-fold. There’s easily between 150 and 200 up and down the country – and rising. It’s very much a secretive world, but drag is giving people a way to be themselves. As well as masking what’s underneath.”

That rise is partly a reflection of the wider visibility – and acceptance – of drag culture in the mainstream. The TV hit RuPaul’s Drag Race has played a part in that, as did Conchita Wurst winning Eurovision in 2014. Times are changing. “I do think the British Asian community is ready to address these issues,” Virdi says.

As we leave the actors working through their number, there are cheery goodbyes and air kisses (to protect makeup) as well as the usual “Good lucks”, and “Break a legs”. But Lahore’s not having any of that. “We say, ‘Snap a lash!’” she smiles, batting her falsies.