Seeing RuPaul go out there and not only create music, but TV and

When Shangela, the dazzling performer and torchbearer of courage, declared, “Seeing RuPaul go out there and not only create music, but TV and film roles, and continue to go down so many creative avenues — that is inspirational. For a person of color like myself, I see RuPaul and I say, ‘Oh, honey, I can do it too,’” she spoke words that shimmer with both reverence and revelation. These words are more than admiration; they are a song of awakening — a declaration that visibility itself can become a sacred act, and that the courage of one can ignite the fire of many.

To understand this quote is to understand the lineage of light that passes from one soul to another. RuPaul, a pioneer of self-expression and freedom, did not merely build a career; he built a realm — a space where identity could dance unshackled from shame. In his rise, he shattered walls of prejudice and fear, proclaiming that creativity knows no boundaries of color, gender, or convention. Shangela’s reflection is born from this recognition: that to witness someone like oneself ascend beyond the limits society has drawn is to receive the divine permission to dream.

The ancients would have seen this as the transfer of spirit — the passing of the torch between generations of seekers and creators. In old times, such transmission was sacred: the apprentice watching the master forge, the student hearing the poet’s verse, the young warrior beholding the elder’s valor. So too does Shangela, beholding RuPaul’s triumph, feel the stirring of her own destiny. Through representation, she sees not only what is, but what can be. It is a vision that whispers: “You belong here too.”

Consider the tale of Harriet Tubman, who once crossed the line of slavery into freedom — and, rather than rest, turned back again and again to lead others. Her courage became the light by which her people saw their own potential for liberation. In a different battlefield, RuPaul’s artistry performs a similar miracle: breaking free from the cages of identity and teaching others that their worth is not confined by society’s gaze. Both figures embody the same eternal truth — that liberation achieved in one heart becomes inspiration for countless others.

In Shangela’s voice there is joy, but also the weight of history. To be a person of color in the creative world has often meant walking through invisible storms — to fight for visibility, to battle stereotypes, to insist upon one’s right to exist loudly, beautifully, and fully. Yet through the radiance of those who have gone before, the burden becomes lighter. Every step RuPaul takes across a stage clears a path through the wilderness of bias, so that others, like Shangela, may follow not with fear, but with pride.

But the quote carries a deeper lesson still. It teaches that inspiration is not to be kept — it must be used. When Shangela says, “I can do it too,” she does not speak of imitation, but of continuation — the next verse in a symphony of courage. The ancients taught that the highest form of gratitude is emulation, not praise. To honor one’s heroes is not merely to admire them, but to become the living evidence of their dream. Through creation, through perseverance, through truth, we extend their legacy into the unending future.

So let this truth be inscribed upon the hearts of all who hear: seek out the inspirational figures who remind you of your own divinity — those who show that your story, your color, your love, your art, are sacred and worthy of the world’s stage. Then rise and create, not in their shadow, but in their light. The world does not need another RuPaul; it needs the first you.

And when you stand at your own crossroads of doubt and hope, remember Shangela’s cry of faith: “Oh, honey, I can do it too.” For that is the voice of destiny — bold, unapologetic, and eternal. It is the same voice that once stirred heroes and saints, artists and dreamers, to defy the limits of their age. Let it stir you now. Let it remind you that your life, too, can be an act of creation — an offering to the generations yet unborn, who will look upon your courage and whisper, with shining eyes, “I can do it too.”