Strippers Have Feelings Too

“I mean it doesn’t really matter. Why should her opinion matter? I know I’m a little chubby but why did she have to say that?”
Audrey {name changed for privacy} is not, in fact, what I would call chubby. She’s one of those girls who looks effortlessly beautiful. We work together at Local 69 {for those of you who have forgotten, this is also a pseudonym because right now I feel weird being public about where I work. Local 69 is the club more frequented by locals} and I’ve always admired her expert use of her long legs, classic style, and dreamy eyes. The way her long locks carry the scent of her vanilla body spray is absolutely intoxicating and her skin is as smooth as it looks. Local 69 isn’t super keen on body diversity for its weekend night girls and Audrey is absolutely the type men trip over themselves for out in the real world too. Gorgeously curvy, she’s a ways away from chubby.
“What happened?” asked Sarah, fiddling with her new extensions.
“Oh, nothing,” said Audrey, voice overly casual. Delicate. Forced.
“Just….some woman asked if I was pregnant.”
A chorus of incredulity rang from those of us in the dressing room, voices clamoring to tell Audrey not to listen to her, that she’s gorgeous, that that woman is insecure.
“Yeah it’s not a big deal, like obviously I’m not but like why would she say that? Like I shouldn’t be upset, it’s fine.”
Audrey paused, manicured claws shuffling the bills in her hand to a more manageable stack. Her eyes turned to the mirror briefly before flicking away. She had taken a break from drinking recently and remarked before that it had made her tits smaller {though even smaller, she often got asked if they were fake still} and had been pleased with the weight loss. She had just started again but as far as I could tell, her beauty didn’t increase or decrease so much as take on slightly different forms as her shape changed.
“When did she say this? At your stage? Is she still out there?” I asked.
“No, she was sitting at my stage and didn’t say anything, she’s with some guy, but then I went outside for a cigarette and she was out there and just….asked me if I was pregnant.”
“Audrey, she’s clearly really insecure. You’re absolutely gorgeous and an amazing dancer and she probably felt threatened and needed to degrade you to feel better about yourself. Point her out if she’s still there, she needs to know it wasn’t cool,” I replied and the rest of the other girls nodded in agreement, pledging support.
“Yeah I absolutely will, if she’s still here I’ll probably say something because in the moment I just said ‘No’ and walked away. I just….I don’t know. I don’t know why I’m so upset.”
I’m not Audrey but I can guess. Being a stripper is a vulnerable thing, you’re exposing yourself to strangers for money, you’re creating sexual intimacy in the span of minutes, selling a fantasy, an image to people who more often than not look down on you, who relish the opportunity to push your boundaries because they don’t respect you. There’s this thing that guys do when they’ll blow on your exposed vagina, often when you’re in some sort of vulnerable position. Technically they aren’t touching you but they’re still having physical contact with you. Words cannot describe how uncomfortable and creepy this is and if you do this or think this is a great idea, know that strippers everywhere plot and brainstorm ways to humiliate and/or hurt people who do this. My preferred method when people do shit I don’t like is to ask them if they think this is fun for me, to tell them I’m not having fun. Other girls just like to kick. Some slap. I personally like the loud, public call out though. Anyways, I digress.
We get criticized all the time- I’ve been thrown money and told to go eat a sandwich, I’ve been praised for my locks {I often wear wigs}, for not having tattoos. People think putting down other girls makes us happy. It doesn’t. Don’t tell me you like me the most because I’m really thin, unlike *that* girl. I will tell you that that’s not cool. We all will.
Women are body shamed enough in the real world. If you’re a dude {define that as you will}, remember that we are probably out of your league. Insulting our bodies is the fastest way to let us know that you feel threatened by us, that you are reminded of your own flaws and perhaps lack of desirability. Whatever you say to us is a reflection of your own insecurities.
And ladies: look. If you don’t want to be in a strip club, don’t go. If you feel threatened because some girl is dancing on your guy in ways you would never feel comfortable doing and it makes you jealous, talk about it. Figure out why you’re insecure. But for the love of fuck, don’t take it out on us. It’s bad enough we have to deal with creeps pressing their beer bottles against our skin and caressing us with filthy dollar bills, we don’t need to deal with your own projected insecurities.
Strippers have feelings to. You can be the most confident stripper in the world and still struggle with body image issues. We are easy targets and there is no honor in trying to make us feel like shit. I am lucky to work in a place that if you shame us, if you fuck with us, we will rally behind the girl you’ve hurt and make you understand that what you did was disgusting. The lady in this story left before we could properly get at her but stay tuned, next is a tale of what happens when you fuck with a stripper who is bitchy enough to call you on your shit right away.
