I’ve written about this before, of course.
When you’re a stripper you’re not really subject to all the craziness of the “real world.” Or I’m not anyways, I hope you’re not either but if you are, just disregard all my generalizations. No one expects you to get up early every day, no one expects you to wear a uniform, own trendy professional clothes, work forty hours a week, or act respectable. These are also Alaskan traits that I maybe grew up with a little more than other people, home schooling, alternative schooling, and building our house out of a dumpster.
It was a bit of a shock when I got here and jumped into the world of substitute teaching. These women aren’t from here (they have to import teachers in the villages) and they wear stylish matching clothes and full make up every day. Dude, if I’m gonna break out my make up bag somebody better be paying me twenty bucks a song. Here they encourage kids to do good in school so they can grow up and get good jobs, be good little rat racers. I’m like, “why would anyone want to do that? Then you have to wear a bra every day and do what people tell you.”
I can’t wait to get back to my seedy little stripper world again where no one will expect me to get up at 6:30 in the morning, do things I’m not into, make superficial niceties, act professional, or talk to people I don’t like without being paid large amounts of money. It never occurred to me that stripping and the sex industry in general was anything other than a world of freedom for everyone, until I read this post by Fifty One Fifty, where she talks about what living in this other reality has taken from her: friends, perspective, reality.
When I think about it that way… yeah, I might be down a few things. Sometimes I go for months without being around men who aren’t interested in falling in love-or-lust with me, and sometimes I go for months with hardly any socialization outside this world of sexuality. Sometimes I forget that there are people out there who have never even been in a strip club, never gone from zero to soulmates in three minutes flat twenty times in a night, never worried about getting locked up in jail for giving a lapdance or just dancing naked, never learned to bounce their ass, never been surrounded night after night by half naked women until they know without looking exactly what any womans body will look like in every possible position.
It’s startling to me that an entire reality can be changed so quickly. That one night, wearing just six inch heels and a thong, I’ll catch sight of a police officer at the door and my heart will race. Are my nipples covered enough? Is my thong wide enough in back? Am I doing anything lewd? What if it’s election time and the cops are on a spree? I should have checked before I booked here.
A few days later, in school, I will be smiling and welcoming a police officer to talk to the kids about drugs. I’ll feel all warm and fuzzy inside that they care enough about their community to come do this kind of outreach. By the time he leaves, I’ll be One Of Them.
Most nights, I’ll sit down on a mans lap and dive into his soul. In the real world, I make meaningless conversations for no reason and after a few days it becomes normal, this disconnection.
It scares the shit out of me how easy it is to fall into these other realities, these delicately complacent denials.
And then I learn that, for some people, the worlds are reversed.