This Week In Priceless Online Dating Messages

To contextualize this note, you should all know that I'm 6'1 and say so on my OkCupid profile. This provokes, occasionally, some interesting responses. For instance:

so sorry if this question is a little forward and this is totally not a pass at you (though i do find you very attractive) but have you ever had sex with a man who was shorter than you? say my height? (5'8")

My reply?

"no"

Which is actually a lie, but can you blame me? It was just too easy. And it wasn't a pass at me after all, right? *snort*

Ani Difranco - The Story

I would have returned your greeting
If it weren't for the way you were looking at me
This street is not a market
And I am not a commodity
And don't you find it sad that we can't even say hello
'Cause you're a man
And I am a woman
And the sun is getting low
And there are some places that I can't go
As a woman I can't go there
And as a person I don't care
I don't go for the hey baby what's your name
And I'd like to go alone thank you
Just the same

Songs should always perfectly articulate things I've been thinking about. Or rather, the best ones do.

What Makes a Woman a Bitch

I want to clarify something about my goal of being more assertive.

I know that it's not very nice to tell a potential suitor to fuck off.* There are damn good reasons, though, for no more Ms. Nice Girl. I've written about a few of them over the course of this blog. The long and short of it, if you don't want to go back and read four blog posts, is that I'm constantly sexually harassed every time I leave my apartment.

It doesn't matter what I'm wearing; it doesn't matter what expression is on my face; it doesn't matter how I respond or even who I'm with. I'm tall and noticeable and have red hair, and I'm apparently hot. Or "sexy baby" or "can I taste that lip ring?" or "look at that pretty tummy." That last one was today.

This puts me in an awfully awkward situation. The thing about hot women in the media is that they're always portrayed as bitches: the blonde popular girl who is too haughty to respond even with kindness to the poor nerdy boy who just wants to love and cuddle her. What they don't show on TV are the good reasons for this behavior.

I don't want to be a "bitch," but I'm fully aware that the reason people use that word is usually to bring women into line. The words "bitch" and "slut" more often have to do with a woman exercising her power and the discomfort that causes in everyone else. If I have boundaries around who I allow to talk to me and in particular how they do it, I'll be branded a bitch. I'll become "that one" who is too cool to give the time of day to a defenseless guy. The thing is, y'all are rarely actually defenseless.

There are things that I respond well to. "Hello, how are you?" is usually one of them. Curiosity about me as a human being with emotions, opinions, and things I like to do is another. "I like you" or "You're pretty" on the street or in a club when my looks are the only thing you could know about me are not. Male folk have an option in how they view and approach me.

Nobody likes to be objectified, diminished into just one part of their person. Maybe somebody who approaches me ham-handedly is just socially awkward and because that's the only thing I see, I judge him as such. I recognize that if I reject someone in a club, that could hurt their feelings. The truth, though, is that it hurts mine to be approached lewdly, to be singled out solely for my looks. So what would you have me do? I'd love a better world, where this wouldn't be a problem. Or just a better solution. Any ideas?


*There's a more specific story there: a group of guys came up to me and my roommate and asked if we'd make out. I asked if they would then all make out with each other and they said "Hell, no!" so I responded with "Well, fuck off then."

A Post of Two Cities

So, there are lots of things that are different between San Francisco and New York City. There's the weather, the size, the unique NY garbage smell, and SF's general sense of carefree liberalism compared to NY's angsty liberalism. Yes, they are both major cities with a serious leftist bent, but obviously they've got drastically different cultures within that.

Canvassing in New York City is also somewhat different. It's definitely the same animal, but perhaps a slightly different breed. It's harder to get people to smile at you as they pass by without stopping. They're way more in a hurry and used to be hassled. They've got the blinders on in a way that San Franciscans never did.

One major difference between the cities, both in canvassing and just in being on the street, is that I get street harassed a lot less here than I did in the West. I'm not really sure why. It could be because San Francisco, as Aviva suggested in the comments on that first post, has a more lenient attitude in general over what's acceptable public behavior. If sexual behavior in public is easier to get away with, does that make sexual harassment easier too? I don't know, but I can see the difference.

Now, I do still get bugged. People definitely hit on me when I'm in public, but it's so much more polite. It's still annoying, but much less so when someone says "Pardon my saying this, but you're very pretty," than when they ask my friend, "Hey, is that your girlfriend? I'd put that on my tongue," or just shout "You're hot" from their seat in a door frame.

I'm still not sure how to respond to street come-ons. I'm thinking calm honesty would probably be the best policy. You know, respond like I would if I was canvassing. "Thank you. It makes me uncomfortable that you say that, but thanks. It's weird on the street." I said something to that affect to a guy who wanted my number the other day, and it worked really well. He just said "That's cool, I understand" and walked away.

Has anyone had any successful rejoinders to this kind of stuff? I'd be interested to hear what works for you.

Canvassing vs. Stripping Part 2: Objectification

I wrote not long ago that stripping and canvassing are very similar. I stand by this; it's mostly the same skill set and similar interactions. I've been surprised to find, though, that there's one major difference. I actually feel a lot more objectified when I'm canvassing than I ever did when I was stripping.

There's the general problem, in canvassing, of standing on a city street for five and a half hours a day. This makes the street harassment I mentioned in my last post a constant issue and very much a part of the job. It's a sort of montage in the background of my daily life. You know, various cut scenes of "Hey baby, what's your name?" and "Aren't you pretty?" and "You got a boyfriend?" and "I'd put that on my tongue."

It also happens with the people I canvass, though. See, I'm ostensibly standing out there for a cause that has nothing to do with my looks or my body. It's gay marriage, it's about equal rights, it's a political thing. I'm being friendly and outgoing but not sexual. The size of my boobs and the color of my eyes have nothing to do with it.

And yet I get the once-over from customers on the street as much as I did when I was stripping. They come on to me just as often. The difference is that in a strip club that's part of the expected interaction. By being there in a thong, I've given the customers permission to oggle and be lewd at me, assuming they pay appropriately.

One of the things I always liked about stripping is that it took objectification, which happens every day no matter what I do, and put it in a place where it was controlled. It gave me the option to consent to it. It gave me bouncers to make it stop if anyone did it in a way I didn't like. When I was stripping, I had the option of saying "No" to someone's objectifying behavior and having it mean something. Yes, we needed the bouncers to enforce that, but we had them. It was enforced.

On the street, I can't say no. I do sometimes, but it's often ignored. I feel like I have no control over the way people treat me, and it's often with minimal respect. I feel uncomfortable a lot of the time. I feel placed into a box labeled "fuckable woman" and imposed upon. I feel objectified. Way, way more than I ever did when I had chosen to be naked on a stage.

Sexually Harassed

Every day I go to work in downtown San Francisco. I get dropped off outside the BART station near my house, ride a train for ten minutes, and walk approximately 100 feet outside another BART station to get to my office. It's a very short trip, especially in terms of the number of steps I take that are actually outside.

Every day, I am catcalled, propositioned, lewdly complimented, or generically hit on by a man at least once on my way to work and at least once on the way home. Often, it's more than that. I literally can't walk outside my house or out of my office without having some guy try to foist himself on me.

Of course, when I'm canvassing on the street for five and a half hours a day, this effect is multiplied tenfold. It's true that pretty much all canvassers are attractive by society's silly standards. It's part of how we make money, and I of course use that to keep my average high.

Even when I'm not trying to attract a donor, though, I garner a lot of unwanted attention. The other day, a fellow female canvasser and I were waiting for a bus and a man driving a Mercedes pulled over, asked if we were dating each other, and then told us "I'd put that on my tongue." It's gross, and it happens all the time.

I'm damn sick of this. It's driving me crazy. I have to fend off sketchy men almost constantly, and it's to a point where it's a big burden. I'd love to be able to just walk down the street without having to think of some witty rejoinder or feeling awkward and rude as I ignore a come-on. Even just having to respond to this shit takes up a decent amount of time and energy that I'd much rather spend on better things.

The thing is, I don't do anything to bring on this attention. I just happen to be at an age and in a physical condition that makes me fit the arbitrary beauty ideals that our society holds over everyone's head. I didn't choose this, it's just the fact of my person. It's a fucked up consequence of being "attractive" that I then have asshole men assuming it's okay to oggle me. I become an unwilling participant in their show of masculinity: hey, look at me! I'm attracted to a pretty woman! This proves I'm a man!

I actually really look forward to getting older and being less "ideally" attractive. I know for a fact that anyone at all can be really sexy. It's all about confidence and feeling sexy and projecting that attitude onto other people. Anyone can do that, no matter how they look, and it's something you get to choose.

When I'm older, I won't have to be perceived as sexy all the time just because of how I look. I'll get to be sexy when I feel like it and towards the people that I pick. It'll have so much more to do with who I really am and what's actually sexual about me than this annoyingly arbitrary body I've got and the gender role that goes with it. I'll get to actually have some choice about it, some control over the mode in which I'm interacting with people.

I suppose I don't know for certain that this is true, and it's certainly true that one can never control anyone else's actions or reactions. Gender roles will still suck and I'm sure it'll be annoying when I'm feeling sexy and other people don't pick up on it. I know there are two sides to this beauty ideal coin and that they both rather suck. I'm just really fed up with being sexually harassed on the street every day, and I'll be glad when it stops or even just happens less often.

Self Discipline in Writing, and My Evening

I think it is now time to start forcing myself to post every day. I have been very, very terrible about blogging for the last several months, to state the obvious. This isn't because I've had nothing to talk about; my brain continues to churn regardless of what weird emotional/stress state I'm in. I've had plenty of things percolating.

I just haven't really been writing. Not here, and not for school anymore, and not in my journal, and not anything fictional. Nothing. This, for me, is not a good thing.

Writing keeps me a little more sane, forces me to analyze my life, helps me to understand my feelings and experiences by articulating them. I really need to be doing it more, because I've been letting some good ol' life patterns (like the whole man issue I wrote about in my last post) build up without really dealing with them.

I spent tonight at a bar and then a dance club with a group of people from work, and although I enjoy the company of many of my coworkers, I was left feeling uncomfortable and almost grossed out after this evening. It really had nothing to do with my companions and everything to do with my feelings about men and being surrounded by them.

I was being lightly hit on by one male coworker, Y, who shared that he hasn't had sex in months and is desperate (his word!). He was also pursuing, and talking about pursuing, another coworker who is new to the office. C, the third woman in the group, picked up an Italian guy early on and got him to buy her drinks and make out with her.

I was being more subtly but also more persistently hit on by N, another male coworker who has a girlfriend but who admits that he make-out cheats on her when he's drunk. He kept saying he wanted to drink more so that he could make poor life choices and touching my knees. A random guy outside the club who I talked to for about a minute took the time to make sure that N would be escorting me home as it's not safe out there for a beautiful lady like myself.

I can't really say what it was that bugged me so much about the whole night, I just felt vaguely dirty, as though I was a part of something I didn't like. I wish there was some way to just check out of traditional gender roles entirely, to not be confronted with them all the time. I wish men didn't objectify me constantly based on my confidence and openness around sexuality. I don't want to be someone's wet dream.

I like it when people are attracted to me, sure, but not so much when it's because they think I'll be the perfect lay. Or the perfect anything, for that matter. It's so much nicer when they perceive me as a human, flaws and all.

It's been an off night, and I'll do a better sort later through what was up. I'd like to find some kind of conclusion, a reaction to this discomfort with men, that will help me function better in their presence. It is, after all, a little hard to avoid them altogether.

Stripping and "Hating" and Dating Men

When I first started stripping, I heard from lots of my coworkers and a few of my friends in the industry that the job would make me hate men. They said that when you do sex work, you see the worst in men and so it is inevitable that you start to dislike them at least a little. I didn't write this off entirely, as of course they had experience at that point and I didn't, but I hoped that it would be different for me.

I was, I rationalized, doing sex work for different reasons than most of them. I didn't need the money, I just kind of wanted to see what it was like to dance naked and get paid for it. I figured this privilege would protect me from making some of the compromises they might have had to, would protect me from a changing opinion of men. I knew the industry would definitely alter me, as everything in life does, but I figured my compassion could hold up to it in that regard.

Well, my compassion is certainly still there. I feel sorry for men much more than I hate them. But things have definitely changed in my feelings towards them.

I've been thinking about my recent heterosexual trend, wondering why my attention has been so much more on men than on women. It hasn't been for lack of physical attraction to women; it's just that when I meet a nicer (and attractive) man, my focus zooms in on him immediately. He stands out to me. This hasn't been happening much with women.

It occurred to me that I've got a little reaction formation going on when it comes to men. (Wikipedia: In psychoanalytic theory, reaction formation is a defensive process in which anxiety-producing or unacceptable emotions and impulses are mastered by exaggeration of the directly opposing tendency.) In this case, I'm very uncomfortable with and somewhat dislike men, so I've been dating them.

So I certainly don't hate men, but I do hate a lot of the things a lot of them do. I don't much like being objectified without my permission. (Accepting money for it is giving permission.) I don't like it when they assume I'm sexually available or feelingless based on my orientation or relationship style or job. I feel almost paranoid about being imposed upon by them, pushed into ways of being or thinking of myself that I don't like, and it affects me from day to day.

So I'm very defended against them. In order to protect myself, I have to be paying attention to the men around me at all times. I'm expending an enormous amount of energy and attention on making sure I don't interact with men in ways that will hurt me. I'm super up front about my job, orientation, and relationship style so that I can immediately avoid the men who objectify them. Putting up barriers like that takes a good amount of effort and so I'm always very aware of men.

What this means is that when I do find a guy who's nice to me, who doesn't do those things I hate, I've already been paying oodles of attention to him in order to find that out. It seems notable, remarkable, that he's not going to be sexist towards me. I appreciate him a lot. I date him, if he's available. There you go. I'm not as afraid of women, and so this happens less often.

(As a side note: I don't claim this is a rational reaction to anything. These are feelings and my attempt to understand them.)

Now, back to stripping. Stripping didn't force me somehow to have these feelings towards men. It's not even that men act much differently at a strip club than they do in general. In fact it's just the opposite, and that's the problem. Stripping commodifies the sexist interactions that exist every day, everywhere. It puts a monetary value on them and so it makes them very, very obvious.

As a stripper, I have to trade somewhat in misogyny, to play off it and manipulate it so that I can get lap dances and tips and avoid groping and slurs. It's something I simultaneously like and hate about the job. I've learned oodles about gender roles, particularly about what's dysfunctional in masculinity. I like learning. However, this knowledge makes it hard to move comfortably in a world that's so full of sexism. I'm just so aware all the time. I can't really sit back and accept it, learn to ignore it, bite the harness and move on like women have been doing for centuries. I'm psychologically fighting it out most of the time.

I'd like to try to shift my focus a little. It's probably unnecessary and certainly draining to be so defended all the time. I'd like to learn, in my day to day activities if not my scholarship and activism, to brush off sexist men. I don't want to let them inside my head, let them affect me, which is something I do have control over even when I can't change their behavior. It'd be nice, even, to spend more time with women and live more in a sisterhood community where I can feel safe. Focus on safety, on whom I am comfortable with rather than on whom I'm not.

I suppose it's a lesson for me as an activist. I want to keep working to change the things in the world that strike me as unfair and wrong, the things that make me angry and hurt me. I need also, though, to focus on healing from that anger and hurt. It's just as important.

Canvassing vs. Stripping

To those of you who also work in the sex industry (and some savvy folks who don't), it may not come as a surprise that working as a canvasser is similar in many ways to working as a stripper. That might sound like a stretch, but aside from having to wear a slightly different uniform, a lot of the things I'm doing in my new job as a canvasser to overturn Prop 8 are similar to what I did as a stripper.

I spend all day being cheerful, nice, and attempting to get people to give me money. I have to walk up to strangers, charm them, and get them to like me. I need to be completely comfortable with rejection because more people will walk by me on the street or refuse to open their screen doors than will donate $70 a month. I need to convince people to part with their money in ways they weren't expecting.

One of my immediate supervisors (not the hiring boss) just remarked to me that she's noticed our company doesn't hire unattractive people. The office is pretty diverse in terms of race and sexuality, but nearly everyone is aged 18-27 and is at the very least pretty or cute. This is partly because of who they hire and partly because you have to make a certain amount to stay on staff. Prettier people make more money.

That prettiness principle demonstrates the job's similarity to stripping. It's slightly exploitative, it commodifies people's looks, and it lends itself to a particular staff demographic.

My point here is that stripping is a lot like any other service or public relations job. Yes, it commodifies and sometimes exploits people, but so does canvassing or waiting tables or selling just about anything. It's all labor, stripping just involves less clothing.

That is all.

Future Work

I wrote not long ago about living at a crossroads right now. Well, one of the major lanes of that road is work: what I'll be doing, where I'll be doing it, and how long I'll be doing it for.

I've been working as a stripper for going on two years now. I've had a lot of time to experience and think about that kind of sex work. I wrote at the very beginning of this blog about the reasons I decided to start stripping. The most lasting motivation has been the one that pushed me to understand the industry, the customers, the workers, and what it all says about gender and life. I think it's all incredibly fascinating.

Of course, stripping is hard work. I've tried never to make bones about that. It takes a lot of energy to dance but mostly to hustle, to be very nice, to be sexually available but not, to be charming and beautiful night after night.

When I would work at the club near my college, I'd be too tired to talk much after a shift. It would be like my voice was all used up. I'd be too keyed up to sleep, but too tired to speak. It was great to live in a laid back house of people where I could just sit in a room with others and watch them play video games. They gave me a comforting, calming presence without asking for anything from me in return.

Well, that kind of work isn't really something I can sustain on my own. I really need the supportive relationships, the people around me, in order to keep my energy up. I do like stripping. I like the attention and harnessing the raw sexuality and dancing and talking to people. At the peep show, I get paid to masturbate, which is basically awesome. However, I'm looking for something else now to fill my days, with maybe the occasional lucrative naked night thrown in for good measure and fun.

So I'm sending out résumés looking for work in New York City. I'm moving there at the end of August and I want a full time youth and/or LGBT or women's rights related job. I'm kind of excited at the prospect of work I could like and not have to take home for me. Something that would stimulate me intellectually and hopefully exercise my compassion without making me too much a part of any sexist institutions. You know, a "real" job. It should be fun.

Watching

I love watching people being affectionate and sexual in public. It's really sexy to see two people standing in line and one of them casually reaches out to stroke the other's thigh for thirty seconds as they're paying for food.

It's arresting to see two people in the library, sitting at two computers next to each other, and watch them ignore their screens as they talk. I can't resist staring at their absorption in each other's faces, the way one might reach out and brush at the hair of the other. I can see the way their mouths hang open just slightly more than usual, a signal that they'd like to be kissing.

I remember being a teenager and waiting in the parking lot of a pizza place, waiting to pick up my boyfriend. A long blonde woman and her tall, big boyfriend were standing in front of my car and I didn't think they were attractive, too scornful of their stereotypical good looks. But then they started making out, just attacking each other's faces and grabbing at bodies, and I got such a thrill sitting there watching. It was such a shamelessly intimate public spectacle. I don't know if they saw me there, but I was only a dozen feet away.

The foursome that I had a year ago was all because I saw the other couple kiss. I watched the way their lips clung together, and their eyes were closed, and they had half smiles, and I wanted to be kissing them. Both of them. Together. Fortunately, the guy I was with that night shared my feelings.

I suppose I have a great appreciation for watching and being watched. There's just something about both that gets to me like very little else. Good thing there are orgies in the world, and I can do both as much as I like.

On Being Desired

I try to be confident in my body regardless of what other people think. You know, the old thing where you're supposed to love yourself before you can connect with others. Or whatever.

I wear what I want. I take or leave grooming habits (like shaving) as I feel like it. I have days where I don't try to be sexy. Realizing I didn't have to look good all the time, especially if I didn't want to be attracting anyone or interacting that way, was a huge thing. It's a relief to be able to say, "I'm not feeling sexy today, so I'm not going to dress to impress," and feel fine about it.

It does, however, feel really good to be desired. Especially by a lot of people.

It's pretty great to sleep with somebody and see in their eyes that they're impressed by you, and so happy to be getting to touch you. It's really nice to hear that I'm sexy or hot and to have people appreciate how I look. It's a total ego boost to get however many messages a day on OkCupid. These days, people are telling me they want me all the time.

I don't want to be dependent on these things, though. I feel sexy on my own and that should probably be enough, but I'm basking in the attention. I'm worried I might be enjoying it too much, that I'll get used to it. I know it's a part of the confidence boost I've been having lately.

I don't want to be one of those women who despairs at getting old, who tries too hard to hang onto her youthful life and body. I really look forward to getting older, to getting to know more things and do more and have a different outlook. I want to have more experiences in my memory that I've learned from. I want to see how I change. I'm going to do my best to enjoy all of it.

Being "young and hot," though, is addictive. I get all kinds of good feelings from people noticing and appreciating my looks. I can imagine myself being disappointed as I age, when my body changes, when it's different after I have children, when I don't fit the silly ideal and people might not pay to see me naked anymore.

I know the best I can do is try to understand that sexiness is about a lot more than fitting into a physical ideal. There are so many ways to be sexy. I've got to remember that, and try to appreciate this vessel I walk around in for what it can do, not just what it looks like. I'm sure I'll manage it and be fine. It's just a question of reminding myself and not getting too caught up in the young, thin, and hot hype.

Slut

I very rarely use the word "slut" to describe myself.

There are a lot of people who have decided to reclaim it and try to recast it in a positive light. I'm all for that, and I don't think a word that describes someone who has a lot of casual sex should be so negative. I support the efforts to reclaim the word slut.

I just can't do it myself.

It makes me really uncomfortable. I think it's mostly because it's still so overwhelmingly a negative word. It connotes someone who's diseased and irresponsible, as if anyone who has lots of sex is either of these things. (As if people who don't have a lot of sex can't get diseases. Great, double stigma, on sex and disease.)

Slut conveys a complete sexual availability. This is of course not a problem in and of itself. I'm very sexually available, and I think it's great. I like being open to do whatever I want with whomever catches my fancy. "Slut," though, suggests availability to the point of passivity, of loss of choice. A "slut" is someone who "will sleep with anyone." They just go along with whoever wants them. It suggests someone who is often and can easily be taken advantage of.

I think it's a disempowering word. I don't like all the negative and sexist ideas about sex it carries along with it like eight tons of baggage. I can't divorce it from those things in my mind.

It's also just because it's been used against me and hurt me in the past. Its use can completely change someone's life. Women who are labeled sluts get abused and generally treated poorly all the time, just because they're somehow considered subhuman. I don't want that for myself or anyone else.

I recognize that this could be like the word "queer." People in my generation don't have the same negative connotations for it and so we like to use it as an umbrella term. I find it empowering. Older folks don't like it because it was a very negative slur in their youths. Maybe (hopefully!) the same thing will happen for "slut," but I'm okay with not embracing the word for now.

Feminism vs. Real Life

Courtney at Feministing wrote about the ways her feminist ideals differ from her actual life, and invited others to do the same. I think this is a really good exercise in self-awareness, so I'm going to try to answer her.

1. I'm incredibly self conscious about how I dress and what I look like at all times. I know that there's no need for me to always be sexy or attractive, but I can't help the running commentary in my head that compares my own appearance to other women's in a very competitive, distinctly un-feminist way. I try, but it sneaks in. (I do dress however the hell I want, but I'm very aware of when I look different from how I'm "supposed to.")

2. I have and often give into the urge to take care of people much more than I let them do so for me.

3. I make all kinds of assumptions about people based on their gender (and race and apparent sexuality) which may have nothing to do with reality. Things like men are going to be less progressive or women will be more sexually shy or black people won't want anything to do with me because I'm white or queer people won't be misogynistic. I try to be aware that I'm doing this and at least not act on my assumptions, but I know I have them.

4. I enjoy blatantly misogynistic pop culture: movies, tv shows, music, etc. Sometimes it's as a cultural critic and sometimes it's just because it's got a catchy beat or a satisfying good vs. evil plot line. I like James Bond.

5. I buy lots of products whose production I know nothing about, including beauty products, clothing, and random toys. I do try to be conscientious most of the time, but other times I just go with convenience. I'm more of a thoughtless consumer than I feel I should be.

6. On a very basic level, I take advantage of gender roles by getting guys to pay to see me naked. Most of them wouldn't do it (or at least wouldn't spend as much as they do) if the male sexual role didn't prevent them from having intimacy outside sexual situations or from finding real sexual satisfaction in their unpaid interactions. (This is a complicated issue which I'd like to talk about more in depth but haven't gathered together the time and thoughts yet.)

Working on Valentine's Day

I went to work last night at the club, not sure at all what to expect. It was either going to be tons of lonely guys (and lots of lap dances) or a bunch of couples doing something "exciting" for Valentine's day instead of the usual candy hearts and hallmark special dinners.

It turned out to be a combination of both, of course, which made for a really strange night.

I'd say that most of the customers there last night were not people who regularly frequent strip joints. Probably around half of them had never been to a strip club before. Instead of lining up at the tip rails as usual, staying with a stack of ones for a few songs, people would walk up, give a dollar, and then go back to their tables.

There is nothing more awkward, or that I hate more, than dancing for a room chock full of aptly watching customers who don't come up and tip. Generally when I'm dancing, I do so to get a reaction: the reaction of giving me money.

Sure, there's some satisfaction in getting people to smile or having their attention, but in the club the way to show appreciation is through money. It's one dollar increments. It's not a whole lot to ask for or give, but what it really signifies is enjoyment, applause.

If no one's tipping, it feels like you're doing something wrong. When there's no customer sitting close by waiting for attention, you're just standing there on a large empty stage. There's no real interaction to use as a show, to get people's attention. You can't speak or sing a song. It's just the movement, just the dance, just your body.

I'm never more aware of my lonely self, exposed on that stage, than when fifty people are watching and not a one comes up to show me I'm doing a good job. A tip is such a small thing, but it does mean a lot when you're under that spotlight.

Last night, I did a good job of keeping my energy up and continuing to work despite the discouragement. By the end of the night, I even got people to come to the stage during my sets. It took a lot out of me, though, because I was working twice as hard for less than half the money. I don't think I'll be working a Valentine's Day again.

Blow Job

Well, I just gave a blow job. And got nothing in return. Took about thirty seconds.

I guess it's a nice affirmation that I'm good at that, but it wasn't very satisfying. Even though I've been fantasizing about sex where I'm used by a man, I do want to get something out of it for myself. Perhaps I need to do a better job of articulating what's in it for me, and asking for it.

Yes, I do love giving head, and I like to please whoever I'm with, even and sometimes especially in the absence of my own physical release. It's about more than just an orgasm.

That's exactly it, though: it's about more than an orgasm. I don't want to be a masturbation toy. I don't mind (I like!) getting someone off, so long as they interact with me a little, make it into an exchange. If you don't swap physical pleasure, at least trade me some enjoyment and playfulness, or give and take some power.

This guy who just left after he came (I told him I wouldn't be calling him again) really just sat there and took it. He made very little noise, didn't voice much appreciation, didn't seem to give a thought to how I might feel about what I was doing. He just kinda came. I might as well not have been there.

I suppose, yes, I do feel used in the bad way. I'm not super upset about it, but it did get me thinking about the whole blow job queen scenario.

What do I want out from it? I want to feel like I'm giving someone pleasure, I want to see and feel their enjoyment. I like that. I get off on it. That's what I get out of it. There you go. This time, it was lacking.

By the way, for those who don't know, the "blow job queen" thing is actually a Liz Phair reference, from her excellent song Flower:


This is a disorganized post, I know, but it's just the thoughts as they came. Maybe I'll clarify this more in the future, figure it out a little better.

The Shit Feminists Say About Porn

I'm writing an honors thesis on porn.

I've mentioned this before, and I've said a few things about it. You probably have some idea where I'm coming from, especially since I'm a stripper. That gives you some prepackaged ideas about who I am and what I think.

I don't know, though, how to engage with all the shit (yes, shit) that feminists say about pornography.

Everybody is so concerned with taking a side. We must all be Pro-Pornography! or Anti-Pornography! and there is so little room allowed for having an opinion that's in between. It's yet another fun incarnation of the good ol' virgin/whore dichotomy.

There's so much vitriol on both sides:

"Those who oppose pornography are anti-sex! They continue the oppression of women by oppressing our sexual expression! They take away the agency of sex workers, taking away the agency and independence of women! Pornography should be encouraged as a sexual expression and an education tool!"

Or:

"Those who support pornography are anti-woman! They continue the oppression of women by encouraging representations of violence against women, perpetuating the myth that all women want to be dominated and abused! They ignore the economic and social coercion of women into sex and sex work! Pornography should be illegal and stigmatized!"

For heaven's sake, you're both right.

I think, actually, that Ariel Levy has a good idea of what's going on. Her book Female Chauvinist Pigs is immensely popular, especially with the anti-porn set, but if you read carefully, she's in the middle of the debate. She doesn't actually think that all porn is terrible (as the anti-porn activists want us to think), but she's not unequivocally accepting of porn and what she calls "raunch culture" either.

Here's an excerpt from an email conversation she had with Susie Bright about her book and what it means for "sex-positive" or "sex radical" feminists:

OF COURSE I don't think you & co. are responsible for this...the whole point of sex radicals is to explore new and different and more creative ways to represent— and to have— sex. I'm all for creativity. I'm all for exploration. I'm just not for the incessant reiteration of this one incredibly dull shorthand for sexiness... Wet t-shirt contests! Implants! Brazilian bikini waxes!

It's pathetically limiting. I'm tired of hearing about how liberating and empowering "raunch culture" is. I think it's the easy way out... as if when we buy a thong or a t-shirt with the Playboy bunny on it, then we don't have to question or face our own complicated desires. (But then you miss out on all the fun!)

You have always been about encouraging women to investigate what they really and truly want from sex. Raunch culture, on the other hand, is about performance, not pleasure. That's my objection.

Let's try and find a middle road here, people. We all want the same thing, ultimately. We want women and men to be equal to each other. We don't want these gender stereotypes and privileges to rule our lives. We want to preserve sexual freedom for both sexes. We want to make sure that no one ever has to give in to a sexuality that's harmful to them. It's a noble goal. We should work towards it together.

Visible Panty Lines

I wonder why we don't eroticize visible pantylines?

Thongs, pantyhose, girdles, and all those other "shapewear" items are meant to give a woman the appearance of complete smoothness under her clothes. I mean, girdles and shapewear also literally force women's bodies into more socially acceptable shapes. Covering up panties or making them so tiny you can't see them anyway is part of that. None of these things are comfortable.

Panties are sexy, though. AND comfortable. I mean, god forbid we don't make women contort themselves to look beautiful. Then they'd have time to think about, I dunno, equality and shit.

Why shouldn't the visible bit of the edge of a pair of panties under a tight pair of pants or skirt be sexy, though? Maybe its lack implies that she's wearing no underwear. Mmmm, implied sexual availability, sexual objectification, I guess men love that.

I find that even men tend to like lingerie better than no lingerie, though. A lot of them have made jokes to me about unwrapping "the present." I've noticed that when I wear a very low-cut shirt or dress, it's sexier if I have a pretty bra showing underneath it. Maybe changing what we eroticize is a little compromise, a step towards letting women do whatever they want regardless of what men think.

And frankly, what they think doesn't matter that much. Let's forget it for a second and have a little agency in our own lives and clothing choices. I feel sexy when I'm wearing a nice pair of panties. Especially if they're pretty AND comfortable. It makes me feel good.

So why not? This can be sexy:



And it's a whole helluva lot more comfortable. I'll take my cute cotton underpants over a stiff, lacy thong any day.

Tuesday Review: Pornography: The Production and Consumption of Inequality

Okay, I know the Tuesday Reviews are kind of sporadic, but I'm a busy woman. I do my best.

This week's review isn't exactly a recommendation, more of an exercise in stretching my brain and my opinions on porn. That's important to do, and books like Pornography: The Production and Consumption of Inequality by Gail Dines, Robert Jensen, and Ann Russo are the background for dialogues about porn and sex work today.

In the interest of full disclosure, I'll admit I read this book for a research project I'm doing for my Women's Studies honors thesis. I'll be examining "feminist" porn and the tactics it uses to address critiques like the ones brought up in Pornography. I'm starting by reading a whole slew of books written by anti-porn feminists so that I can be fluent in their criticisms of porn.

One of the things that was striking to me in reading this book was the way the authors framed their arguments in relation to sex-positive feminists who they called "sexual liberals." The first couple of chapters were devoted to naming and disputing "sexually liberal" criticisms of anti-pornography feminism. As the book went on it got a little more nuanced, but the first two chapters set the tone for the narratives about porn.

I'm probably not going to make myself popular with people on either side by saying this, but I have a huge problem with the divisiveness we see surrounding the issue of porn in feminism. It's a problem on both sides, and I think it's really unproductive.

I agree with the anti-porn feminists that a lot of porn does represent and reinforce the patriarchal gender roles of our society. Including a tendency towards violence against women.

I agree with the sex positive feminists that porn can be a very powerful tool for exploring and expressing female sexuality. I think that any consciously navigated choice to be sexual as a woman is an act of rebellion against the stupid virgin/whore complex.

Which, by the way, is hugely at play in the conflict between these groups. The anti-porners basically call the sex pos-ers whores for advocating for what they see as the always patriarchal representations of sex in porn. The sex pos-ers call the anti-porners prudes for criticizing sex and porn and fucked up power dynamics between men and women.

It's a bad show.

I'm having a real "Ack! I've been identifying solely with one side of this argument, but I think the other has solid points too!" kind of moment.

I still think that the sex positive movement has a more productive approach to porn: actually making porn and REconstructing gender roles in it by altering the circumstances of its production and consumption. However, I don't think they'd be much of anywhere without the efforts of the anti-porn movement to highlight the sexual inequalities that are prevalent everywhere.

I think that where the anti-porn movement reacts to a negative sexual situation in our country, the pro-sex movement acts to change it. That's why I'm writing about feminist porn; I want to see how they're doing.

After that long word vomit, back to the book. I did really like the last few chapters where the authors talked more about their personal interactions with porn and how it affected them emotionally. These three closing essays showed, finally, a much more complex view of how to deal with porn.

I think that in the end these three are somewhat open to dealing with sex positive types (or "sexual liberals" as they're called in the book). I hope that we can all find a common ground. We're all working towards the same thing anyway: equality between men and women.

Cross posted at Fourth Wave Feminism

Blow Jobs, Annihilation, and Growth

When I was younger, I was a blow job queen.

My first real boyfriend told me that I sucked his cock on our second date. I don't remember this, but I believe him. I can't actually remember when I started seeing or playing with his dick. I've played with it and other cocks so many times since then that the first time has blended in with the other memories.

He was uncircumcised. I remember that; I could tell. Often he wasn't completely hard by the time I started playing with him, so there would be some extra skin when I first put my mouth on him. I didn't know what I was doing at first, but I'd looked up on the internet what to do. I knew to avoid teeth, to use my lips, hands, and tongue. I learned to respond to his movements. I made him come in my mouth.

After we broke up, I didn't stay celibate for long. I had a good girlfriend who I lusted after but didn't think I could be with. She was too Christian and I was too timid.

So I blew her ex-boyfriend. It didn't occur to me then, but I know now that the only reason I had any chemistry with T was that I'd hung out with him and my friend together. We'd all cuddled on my bed, and my sexual tension with her had leaked into my interactions with him.

T kissed like a dead fish, all lips and no tongue. By the time we fooled around, I didn't especially like him, but I was bored and considered him a challenge. He was selfish in bed, wouldn't do anything at all for me except fumble in the general area of my clit with thick fingers. He said he'd go down on me if I got him off, which I found out a few weeks ago has still never happened for him with another person. He was also even more Christian than my friend, hated his own and others' sexuality, and was very politically conservative.

Every time he'd leave my house or drive me home, I'd feel like a whore. I might as well have been paid for what I did. There was very little physical gratification for me, just the vague eroticism of serving someone, the humiliation of feeling hated because I was giving away physical pleasure. It was masochistic.

I had a few similar flings during the next few years, between more serious relationships. Boys who'd call me when they wanted to get off, or who I'd call when I was alone at night. I'd feel this intense need to be touching someone, to be giving something, and I didn't know any other way to satisfy it than by finding a boy to blow. Some of my motivation was simple loneliness.

Mostly, though, it came from a need to feel annihilated. When I was feeling empty or in pain, I could hurt myself by finding someone who'd think less of me for having sex with him. I could stop feeling anything by being with a person who did not see or understand that I was a human with emotions. I was reduced to body parts, objectified, fucked. It was everything those old feminists talked about.

One day, after a few months of therapy and a decision that I didn't want to do it to myself anymore, I finally said no. A boy I'd blown was leading me back drunk from a fraternity party, and as we started to pass my dorm I said "Wait, I don't think I should do this. My shrink says I shouldn't have sex for a while."

He gave me a funny look and said goodnight, which is what I'd wanted. I wanted him to think I was crazy so it wouldn't hurt his feelings. It had worked. I ran off, almost giggling, to my room. Awkward though it was, I'd finally drawn the line and walked away when I wasn't actually into the guy or the sex.

I haven't had that kind of sex since then, the kind where I give up my humanity to have a physical connection with someone. I have casual sex, yes, but I do everything I can to make sure it's with someone who will see and value my humanity even while we're fucking. I can't always tell ahead of time whether this will be the case, but I can get a pretty good idea.

I'm glad I had the experience of objectified sex. It gave me something to contrast with what I wanted, to grow from. It allowed me to understand what it is that I don't want. I'm just as glad, though, to have moved past it into fulfilling sex with people I like. It's just so much more fun.