A titillating quandary

This post brings up a discussion I've been pondering for many years, and have been a bit wary to address, mostly because even my own feelings about the topic are so incredibly mixed.  Bear (or bare, which might be more appropriate) with me, feminist friends, I think there are some interesting questions in here that as "liberated" women we're trained to ignore or dismiss.  Perhaps instead they're worth discussing.

So, a couple of days ago, I walked into the locker room at the gym and was greeted with, "Hey, are you a dancer here?" I looked over to see a slight, blonde girl, who was probably about my age, but who had pretty clearly lived a lot harder than I ever have.  She was maybe six inches shorter than me, and every part of her five-foot frame was absolutely tiny.  Like someone had put her in a Willy Wonka machine and miniature-ized her.  Her hair had probably been processed 20 times this month alone, and her smile was more trained than genuine, but there was something very girlishly pretty and yet authoritative, about this diminutive woman.  She was also strong and toned, in a way that made me think she could probably back-handspring her way through the locker room, and do a layout, full-twist landing onto the treadmill in the cardio room.

As she stood there, naked, looking at me and waiting for an answer, I contemplated how to respond to this question.  I mean, yes, I'm a dancer.  But I knew she didn't exactly mean ballet.  This little powerhouse was a stripper, an occupation that has fascinated me as often as it's turned my stomach.

"Well, sort of," I said.  "I am a dancer, but not here.  I just moved here from New York."

Her eyes lit up with a hint of amusement, though it was clear that the New York bit impressed her.  "Because you look like a dancer - so tiny and pretty.  We're all dancers here.  It's what we all do.  You look fresh, and you're in great shape - plus that tattoo.  You should come down to Deja Vu.  They'd hire you in a second.  Actually, you could get a job at any of them, really.  Hustler Club would snatch you right up." (I don't know if a pun was intended.)

Okay, so let's pause for a second.  Now, to be candid, things have been tough financially for me for several years.  And over the years, the thought has occurred to me more than once that being a stripper would be a fast way to make a lot of money in my spare time.  With a background in dance, and a constant commitment to being in peak physical condition, I've been pretty sure I'd be able to break into the industry pretty easily.  However, the thought of actually getting up on a stage and putting my goodies on display has always left such a bad taste in my mouth that I've never given it more than a few minutes of consideration.

This time, though, I gave it some more thought.  In fact, I'm still thinking about it, and I think the whole thing warrants more of a discussion than "It's exploitation!" or "You should respect yourself more than that."  There's more to it, as I've come to discover.

Let's start with the whole exploitation thing.  If you really think about it, it's the men in this case who are being exploited.  The women are rolling in some serious bank - all for just showing what they were naturally given.  They are fully aware of what they're doing and why, they have security guards for protection, and they are taking large sums of money from everyone who walks in the door, in return for giving essentially nothing.  In this way, it seems to me that stripping, in one light, is the height of feminism - it's the "I'm not ashamed of my body or of being a woman.  In fact, I think being a woman is awesome.  Look how much power I have over you if I just take off this bra - I OWN you now."  In a way, it eliminates a censorship that we live with every day.  And frankly, that's the only reason it's exciting to begin with - if we didn't all walk around covering up the "private" parts of our bodies, it wouldn't be such a novelty.  In fact, I doubt it would be taboo at all.

This does bring me to the unpleasant fact that stripping (and even more so, escort servicing)  is one of the only professions where women actually earn higher salaries than men (If anyone has the stats to prove me wrong on this, I'd love to see them.).  So wait - to get equal pay, I have to sell my body for your pleasure?  I have to flirt, and pretend, and make a man happy to earn what I should be making to begin with?  Okay, if you think about it that way for very long, it's infuriating, right?  It's like saying the only thing worthwhile about a woman is her sex appeal and how she looks in a bikini or less.  Personally, I'm pretty sure my boobs are lousy conversationalists, and my ass can't tell you about all the amazing things it's seen traveling the world.  But somehow, as a woman, my physical assets are more valuable than my intellectual ones.

All that said, it should boil down to my choice - my decision.  Not anyone else's.  Everyone has their opinion one way or another, but should I choose to make a living as a stripper, that should be no one's business but mine, so long as it remains within legal boundaries.  However, because of the way our society views this line of work, should you choose to move on from a skin-flashing career, you might be hard pressed to get a job elsewhere.  Because you are probably a bad person or a dumb bitch or a sexual deviant if you have ever worked as a stripper.  It's the type of "past" that can ruin your future and your reputation.  Because you dared to use your body to get your head above water financially.  Because you took your clothes off and not for some big Hollywood blockbuster or HBO series.  You are now tainted.  The fact that we are so quick as a society to judge others' choices is almost enough to make me want to go out there and get a job at a gentleman's club right now.

Except it's not.  Because the fear of a ruined reputation and a black mark on my resume forever is too real.  Because I, too, am scared of having a scarlet "S" on my chest.

At the end of the day, it's just boobs.  It's just an ass.  It's just a few hours of time in exchange for thousands of dollars.  It's just acting, really.  Pretending, like any other job, that you like what you do.  That you're happy to be of service.  When you look at it that way, I think there are plenty of other jobs that are more exploitative.

I'm pretty much a coward and don't think I physically have the guts to actually do something like take a job as a stripper.  But I think if I wanted to, I shouldn't be made to feel less for doing so.  In a perfect world, I would be paid a wage equal to my male counter-parts, I would not pay more than a man for health insurance, and I'd be able to move ahead in the workforce regardless of my gender.  Until such time when that is actually the case, women are going to strip.  And work at Hooters.  And sell off ever last part of their body if need be to pay the bills.  Because...well...hell, they can.  Isn't that the American Dream?

I saw that little blonde girl once more before I left the gym.  As she left the locker room, she said, "I'll see you at De Ja Voux!"

All I could come up with was, "Yeah.  Maybe."