Stripped

Barton

Description

Discover the complex work and personal experiences of women in the exotic dancing industry
What kind of woman dances naked for money? Bernadette Barton takes us inside countless strip bars and clubs, from upscale to back road as well as those that specialize in lapdancing, table dancing, topless only, or peep shows, to reveal the startling lives of exotic dancers.
Based on over five years of research and from visiting clubs around the country, particularly in San Francisco, Hawaii, and Kentucky, Stripped offers a rare portrait of not just how dancers get into the business but what it''s like for those who choose to strip year after year. Through captivating interviews and first-hand observation, Barton recounts why these women began stripping, the initial excitement and financial rewards from the work, the dangers of the life—namely, drugs and prostitution—and, inevitably, the difficulties in staying in the business over time, especially for their sexuality and self-esteem.
Stripped provides fresh insight into the complex work and personal experiences of exotic dancers, one that goes beyond the “sex wars” debate to offer an important new understanding of sex work.

Sujets

• Cultural studies
• Dance

Informations

• Publié par: NYU Press
• Date de parution: 01 mai 2006
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9780814739099
• Langue: English

Extrait

Stripped

Stripped

Inside the Lives of Exotic Dancers

Bernadette Barton

a N E W Y O R K U N I V E R S I T Y P R E S S New York and London

n e w y o r k u n i v e r s i t y p r e s s New York and London www.nyupress.org

© 2006 by New York University All rights reserved

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Barton, Bernadette. Stripped : inside the lives of exotic dancers / Bernadette Barton. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN–13: 978–0–8147–9932–1 (cloth : alk. paper) ISBN–10: 0–8147–9932–9 (cloth : alk. paper) ISBN–13: 978–0–8147–9933–8 (pbk. : alk. paper) ISBN–10: 0–8147–9933–7 (pbk. : alk. paper) 1. Stripteasers. I. Title. PN1949.S7B37 2006 792.7—dc22 2005032450

New York University Press books are printed on acid-free paper, and their binding materials are chosen for strength and durability.

Manufactured in the United States of America

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For Anna

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Contents

Preface

Acknowledgments

Introduction: Come Inside and See the Show

Becoming a Stripper

Dancing on the Möbius Strip

Bad Girls

The Toll

“You Have to Be Sexually Open”

Sticking Together

“Everything Is Not Okay”

Notes

References

Index

About the Author

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Preface

What kind of woman dances naked for money? The first time I went into a strip bar I was nineteen, on spring break from college, visiting my friend, Charles, in Minneapolis. We were down- town looking for lunch and passed a storefront advertising dancing and a buffet. Hopelessly naive, and a former ballet dancer to boot, I said to Charles, “Oh, dancing, wouldn’t that be fun.” He looked puzzled, and said, “It’s not that kind of dancing, Bernadette.” Then I understood. “Well, I want to go anyway. I’ve never been to one before.” But Charles wasn’t interested. Later that afternoon, when he had left for work, I bravely marched in alone. My first impression was that the place was very dark. Heavy metal music blared from the speakers, a thin scattering of men hunched at the bar, while one customer sat at the stage, a woman gy- rating her crotch in his face. One patron asked if I was the next dancer. I fled, feeling vulnerable and afraid. He thought I was the next dancer, and I realized I could have been. I was young and sufficiently attractive. I had even studied dance most of my life—ballet, Pointe, modern, and jazz— so I felt oddly qualified for the job. The next time I entered a strip bar was in Las Vegas. I was twenty- eight, a graduate student attending an academic conference and explor- ing future research projects, and I was considering studying exotic dancers. By coincidence, there was a dancer/academic on my panel who agreed to go with me to an all-nude dance bar off the strip. This club was decorated exclusively in shades of dark burgundy. Walking in was like en- tering a giant vulva. Although I was in researcher mode and avidly en- tranced with the space, I still felt uncomfortable. I first noticed that the dancers lacked rhythm and grace; they literally could not find the beat. This lack of skill was incredibly distracting. Nor did their acts reflect any trained aesthetic, consisting largely of random gyrations in front of men, interspersed with apathetic meandering around a pole in the middle of the

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