Ava Adore

Obs: Minds of All Sizes

This post picks up where this one leaves off and is the last in the trio.

So, you’ve heard me talk about how freeing locker room conversation can be, and how unique the girls’ relationships to one another can be, and also how sociologically intriguing our interactions with customers can be… And there’s more.

I ended the last post in this section with,
‘Shave your head, dress in men’s clothing on stage, and still be a successful dancer. You don’t have to, but it helps make my point; after all, I do it.’

The other interesting point concerning the male/female flip in socialization at a strip club produces, yes, douchebags—but also open minded folk. For every guy who walks in looking to put a girl down to make himself feel better, there’s a guy who’s had his share of knocks in life and has a vein of empathy in his body.

To my customers’ credit, 99% of the time I’m asked, “Do you have a boyfriend?” (to which I reply, ‘No.’) it is always followed up with, “…A girlfriend?”

I don’t know if you have to be part of the lgbt community to understand how awesome that is. Sure, it’s not the first question, it’s not the default setting—but it is the follow-up question, no prompts, no side-glances, no Katy-Perry-like insinuations. It’s obvious and easy, as if it were there all along, a question you could ask anyone.

That, my friends, is some huge stride. It shows me, anyway, working at the House as I do—and granted I’m speaking from a few points-of-privilege, especially concerning locale—that sociologically it’s… a big change. Changes are happening and they’re happening everywhere. The degrees may differ but the change is real.

Obs: Queerer Than You Think

This post picks up where this one left off.

So you’ve got the basic idea: this is an oddly feminist space, based on the interactions between females at the House and our chosen arrangements with the establishment. But what about the interactions between the girls and the (predominantly male) clients?

Men walk through the door with easy assumptions:
- The bodies on stage are female.
- They identify as girls, women, etc.

These assumptions are based on the nature of strip clubs. Because they ‘know’ this, men are actually wiling to overlook it. It’s the strangest thing I’ve ever seen. You can challenge them left, right, and sideways, presenting as ‘male,’ socializing as ‘male,’ and they somehow accept this ‘maleness’ and thus assume a ‘female’ role. It is amazing.

Offering stereotypically ‘female’ socialization will actually hinder you as a dancer. Men will not approach you, even if they like you; at best they’ll have their friend, or a bartender, shyly call you over. They will sit in their bro-section laughing and ignoring the world until you approach them. It’s like the giggling gaggle of girls at a bar—reversed.

In this space, a dancer is able to be as ‘male’ as she wishes; she appropriates male privilege, being the aggressor, the pursuer, the breadwinner. She chooses you; she makes you feel wanted; she is cat to your mouse; and you pay her for it. Her interactions are her choices; if she doesn’t like you, she leaves, no consequences.

Don’t believe me?

Shave your head, dress in men’s clothing on stage, and still be a successful dancer. You don’t have to, but it helps make my point; after all, I do it.

Obs: Freedom of Speech

It’s funny to me when people talk about how working at a strip club is so male-dependent. It is, and it isn’t; primarily, it is concerning the clientele, but not the establishment. This is, in essence, a female-run community centered around sex-positivity, sisterhood, and embracing our bodies.

As you know, we’re treated like independent contractors. No benefits, no wages. We pay them to ‘rent’ their space. We are surrounded by an entourage of men whose job primarily includes taking care of their assets: us. They want us healthy and safe, in all aspects they can handle. I love my managers and security at the House.

But the rest? It’s all girl, baby. The bartenders are girls, the dancers are girls. We’re the backbone and it’s our scene. We’re our own bosses, beholden only to ourselves; we make our schedules, we choose if we quit, and there’s no ‘two week notice.’ We’re here because, on some level, we want to be. This creates a really unique space.

I have never been in a more openly female environment.

Our bodies and our lives are, for the first time (if you’re not already into feminist spaces), easy topics. We have the best locker room talk—and it leaves the locker room. Everything that society tells girls is taboo is out in the open here. Girls can ask questions, get answers, and debate everything we ever wanted to know or share.

It’s so easy to talk about, like food or the weather. It is empowering to be able to be that open. You don’t realize how many censors you grew up with, socialized as a girl, until you’re in a space where you don’t have to socialize as a girl—ironically in the one place where being a ‘girl’ is most important, we socialize like ‘men.’

But that’s another post.

Obs: Fake vs. Real?

While we’re on the topic of tits:

In case you ever wanted to know how to figure out the difference between fake tits and real tits, think of that old fashioned slang term, “dirty pillows.” Boobs actually have a dough like quality to them. You watch enough strippers ‘mingle’ for money—which is, accept tips by pressing their boobs around the dollars offered like sacrifices to their cleavage—and you can see the softness evident there.

Fake boobs, in contrast, even excellent ones, have simply a more rubberlike quality to them when they’re in action. They’re a tick too perky, a bit too bouncy, like your favourite childhood bouncy ball wound up in the wrong place. There’s also a matter of shape. All natural boobs, from small to large, have a teardrop aspect to how they lay. If there’s a bulge on the top, as if she’s still wearing an invisible push up bra, they’re fake.

This is nothing for or against fake boobs. I’ve seen great ones, and I’ve seen bad ones. I’ve seen natural double Ds and fake Bs. This is just for those of you who are curious…

Also, in the words of Marilyn Manson’s Rules of Cheating,
“You can squeeze fake tits because they’re not actually real, so you’re not cheating.”
Which I don’t agree with in regard to cheating, but it’s still funny as hell.

In other news, shift tonight… La de dah.

Obs: Normalization

There’s an odd sisterhood that goes on in the locker room, as I assume happens whenever you get a bunch of women continuously in a small area. Especially considering any women numbering more than 3 should be given at least enough space to house a volcano. But more on that later. What I was getting at, is certain things become normalized.

Like tits and ass—Yes, we do walk around naked back there. We’re on stage half naked, and in the locker room we change, and sometimes we get lazy halfway through, or something funny happens, or whatever. Point is, nudity becomes passe. You get to see more female body parts than anyone ever, apart from maybe Shane from the L Word. “Does my ass look good in this?” becomes a very serious question.

& Like romance in general—This is a perfect jaded girl’s profession, and maybe why it suits me so well right now. It’s all a show. Which is why bfs/gfs/etc aren’t really allowed in. And it’s probably the one place you can say to another girl, “I know you’re straight, but would you do me if you weren’t?” without it ever being awkward. Or even thought about twice.

(PS Ds. said she totally would. What’s funnier is when whether or not Ds. would let me do her became topic of conversation one night, about 3 girls asked her just to hear the answer.)