stripping to my roots

I went to the fair with my little sister. At first it was very crowded and kind of scary and confusing. People were there to buy things, sell things, and stimulate their nervous systems on rides. I think people are so separate from themselves that they have to go on rides that give them that crazy adrenaline rush just to experience something real inside their own bodies. They should get lapdances instead.

Then my sis and I got curly fries with vinegar and rode the dragon boat and it was fun and it was just like old times. I remember getting so lost at the fair when I was a kid. I would wander around for hours and then sit on this grassy knoll and watch kids playing and teenagers’ hackey sacking and everybody being. Then someone I knew would come along and we would lay on the grass and talk and watch the clouds go by. The fair is a big deal here in Alaska.

Later we carried windows over to her neighbor’s house. He asked where we had grown up, and when we told him he pointed at me. “I knew she was from the village.”

“It’s been a really, really long time,” I told him, “I probably shouldn’t even claim it anymore, it’s been that long.”

“Well it still shows. You ain’t afraid of hard work and handling your shit, I could tell you’re from the village.”

(The Village. It’s a mythical sort of place that encompasses all villages, regardless of geographic location. I think you’d have to be here to understand.)

Even though there was a lot of Bad Shit, I am ridiculously in love with where I came from and who it made me.

Last night was my first night back at my favorite little tittie bar (needed: fair money). I didn’t want to wear heels because of my owie SI joint, so I wore flip flops. I started doing my make up and then thought, “eh, there’s three strippers here and five customers, what’s the point?” So I slapped on a little eye shadow and some lip gloss and an etched bone necklace that my mom made me, and I danced barefoot to country. I rocked my Alaska Grown tatt all night. I’ve only worked two or three nights since I got it, but it’s paid for itself a gazillion times over. I’m definitely going to keep getting it.

The more I think about it, the more I never want to wear heels again. I know people told me for ages that they were bad for my back, but… well, I guess there’s nothing like experience as a teacher.

I went barefoot on stage, and I loved it. There’s something really sexy about barefoot dancing, but it’s like learning to dance all over again. All those years of dancing in six inch heels and I’ve forgotten how to dance with my feet on the ground. I want to relearn this kind of barefoot wild alaska grown feral stripping. It’s what I came from.


  1. Oh, I’m SO glad! It’s been a long journey. And besides, barefoot is SO sexy.

  2. hooray for barefooted sexy wonderfulness!
    I dont know why this post brought tears to my eyes!
    Yay for you for taking care of your SI joint and rocking the world!

  3. Awesome that you are going barefoot. I would love to go walking barefoot in the park in the city here but too many undesirable objects in the grass. I do believe that is how some bellydancers dance (or I could be wrong).

    Take care of yourself and blessed be!

  4. Indeed, there are many bellydancers who dance in their bare feet. At least, most of the ones I’ve seen, and my last two instructors did. I think, though, it was partly to show off the henna designs on their feet, though. 😀

    Ballet dancers are almost in their bare feet – those little slippers certainly don’t ad to their height much, but do protect the foot somewhat.

    I think that you’d be just fine by me to dance on stage without footwear, but I don’t know if I’d suggest walking around the rest of the place entirely barefoot – depends on the quality/cleanliness of the club. Beer-sticky-floor, eww!

Leave a comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *