FREEZE! Flotilla shares her tales about the other side of freedom.

Even in male garb, statuesque drag diva Flotilla DeBarge is a commanding presence. With perfectly tweezed eyebrows, a fetching blue felt hat and dark overcoat, DeBarge cuts quite a figure in a modest Upper West Side diner. She has come to chat with TONY about her new solo show, Flotilla DeBarge: Freshly Released—Black, Blessed & Free, and is reluctant, at times, to divulge too much. That’s surprising for this performer, who gleefully sent up Star Jones in a PETA antifur campaign and who routinely slays audiences with her “signiggature” songs and politically charged monologues.

But the events that inspired her new piece are clearly still an open wound: In the early hours of a September morning in 2006, DeBarge got into a much-publicized scuffle with a straight couple at the Meatpacking District’s APT, which ended when she wielded one of her pumps as a weapon. DeBarge (or, rather, Kevin Joseph) ultimately pled guilty to assault and recently completed a 45-day sentence on Rikers Island. Now she’s back where she belongs—onstage—with her tales of lockup.

What happened that night at APT?
It was a bar fight that went awry. I’d come from performing and was in drag and exhausted. This girl took my seat and I asked her to move; she did, but her boyfriend kept menacing me. He didn’t use the n-word, but he did mention my “black ass.” He grabbed me, we went at it and all of us got hurt. I took off my shoe to defend myself.

So why did you plead guilty?
My lawyer tried to get me community service. I was like, “Let me go with Boy George!” But the DA wouldn’t go for it. I wanted to go to trial because I really believed in my innocence, but my lawyer advised me not to take that chance because all the jury would see was a big black man.

What did you do in the clink?
I minded my business and did my time. I read. I slept. I just manned up—womanned up—and did my time. I kept a diary. That’s what got me through, and it became the basis for my show.

Tell us about your unconventional, part-time jail stint.
I had a very gracious judge. He knew that I wasn’t a danger to society—that I didn’t just go around beating up random people with my high heels! So he gave me what’s called an “intermittent sentence,” and I spent Fridays through Sundays in prison.

Did you do your time in drag?
Not at Rikers, but when I was arrested I was in drag. While I was in Central Booking my purse was stolen, my house keys were stolen. They didn’t know if I was a transsexual or a transvestite hooker, and asked if I considered myself male or female. It was kind of funny. They finally supplied me with male clothes, but I still had caked-on makeup, so I looked like Baby Jane DeBarge.

Were you concerned that being an ex-con would ruin your reputation?
At first. But then I thought about it and I was like, It hasn’t hurt Martha Stewart! It hasn’t hurt Lil’ Kim! It’s just a word—it doesn’t define who I am. I have no plans on running for President, so I don’t think it’s going to affect me in the long run.

What do you say to people who think you’re a troublemaker who got what was coming to you?
You’ve got to understand that there’s a persona and a human being involved. Flotilla is an in-your-face, larger-than-life character. Period. When I got arrested that night and was in Central Booking, everyone said stuff like, “Oh, Flotilla, you know how she is! Go ahead, girl! You work!” It wasn’t until later that they realized that it was a big deal. I got arrested. I went to trial. I went to prison. It wasn’t some Flotilla stage act. I was a little angry at the gay community because of all the dishing and bitchiness and jokes. It took me a while to be able to laugh at it because I was still in pain.

What happens now?
I live my life and I move forward, and I hope that I’m not forever known as “the drag queen with the shoe.” I embrace it, but in a bittersweet way. I’m the only drag queen with street cred! I’ve gone from being the Empress of Large to the Notorious F.L.O.

Flotilla DeBarge: Freshly Released is at the Cutting Room through Feb 1.