Strip: The Making of a Feminist - Softcover

Ladd, Catlyn

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1785357379 ISBN 13: 9781785357374

Verlag: John Hunt Publishing, 2018

Inhaltsangabe

The exotic dancer exists in popular culture most often as scenery. When she is allowed to speak, she does so to the male protagonist and is either the conniving woman attempting to relieve the hero of the cash in his wallet, or fallen woman in need of rescue. She is rarely named, existing only as a backdrop, red lights flashing on pliant flesh like a crime scene. She is white, blonde, slim, with large breasts. She is stripper Barbie, plastic porn. Strip brings nuance to a subject that is often overlooked, ignored, or otherwise silenced. To all readers of human culture interested in the anthropology of what it means to be a sex object in modern America, this book is about much more than stripping. It argues that gentlemen’s clubs are a microcosm that distills the female experience of patriarchal culture. On the body of woman is written male desire. In the eyes of woman, gazing at the male, culture can truly be seen.

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorinnen und Autoren

Catlyn Ladd performed in gentleman's clubs for five years while pursuing an education. She now works as a college professor teaching philosophy, religion, and women's studies. She lives in Colorado, USA.

Catlyn Ladd performed in gentleman's clubs for five years while pursuing an education. She now works as a college professor teaching philosophy, religion, and women's studies. She lives in Colorado, USA.

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Strip: The Making of a Feminist

By Catlyn Ladd

John Hunt Publishing Ltd.

Copyright © 2017 Catlyn Ladd
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-78535-737-4

Contents

Acknowledgments, x, 
Section I: Into the Abyss, 1, 
Chapter 1: The Beginning, 2, 
Chapter 2: Stripper Barbie, 13, 
Chapter 3: A Bad Night, 18, 
Chapter 4: Material Girl, 27, 
Chapter 5: Body Property, 31, 
Chapter 6: Fetish, 36, 
Chapter 7: Object of the Gaze I Become, 42, 
Section II: The Dialectic of the Abyss, 49, 
Chapter 8: Fast and Loud, 50, 
Chapter 9: In Love, 57, 
Chapter 10: Skin, 65, 
Chapter 11: Creep Show, 70, 
Chapter 12: The Virgin, 85, 
Chapter 13: Couple's Therapy, 92, 
Chapter 14: Black and Blue, 100, 
Chapter 15: The Addict, 104, 
Chapter 16: The Female Gaze, 115, 
Section III: The Abyss Gazes Back, 123, 
Chapter 17: The Cross-Dresser, 124, 
Chapter 18: Rain, 133, 
Chapter 19: Pretty Boy, 141, 
Chapter 20: The Renaissance Man, 149, 
Chapter 21: This Is My Body Moving Electric, 164, 
Chapter 22: Athena, Stripped, 166, 
Chapter 23: Into the Deep, 172, 
Reading Questions, 177, 
Bibliography, 178, 

CHAPTER 1

The Beginning

The entirety of my wardrobe hangs on a clothes rack occupying one wall of our bedroom. I go through the items rapidly, pulling candidates o? the rack and laying them out on the bed, which is a double futon on milk crates. The crates serve the dual function of keeping the bed o? the floor and organizing jeans, sweaters, and books. It's college chic.

My boyfriend looks on, sitting on the bed sorting hosiery. He's looking for my garter belt, which has to be mixed in somewhere with the fishnets and thigh-high witch stockings.

"What about this?" I hold up a minidress that zips down the front. One side is black and the other side is white.

"With these." He holds up a pair of black and white striped stockings.

"Those don't match," I say.

"They don't?" He looks at them quizzically.

"No. The stripes are different widths."

"I kind of like that."

"I don't think strippers are supposed to be edgy."

"Well, I'd tip you." He goes back to the pile.

Audrey is picking me up in an hour. My makeup kit is already packed; now I just have to figure out what clothes to take. I have lots of hot pants, miniskirts, and catsuits, but it all looks like club wear to me, something to wear to a rave.

"Ah, ha!" Triumphantly he holds up a garter belt and another striped stocking.

"Add those to that pile." I point to a small collection of clothing that I think will be suitable. I only have one pair of shoes, white sandals with clunky heels that I bought on sale at Wal-Mart for $10. Everything I take tonight has to match and most of my clothes are black.

I put everything in a duffel bag and add my makeup and a curling iron. I throw in a single black velvet thong that I had been able to afford ($5 at Wal-Mart) along with the shoes.

I am not nervous, only worried about making money. The idea of being naked in front of strangers doesn't concern me, but I do feel a twinge about my appearance. Loads of people, both men and women, have told me how beautiful I am and intellectually I know that I fit the current social standards for beauty: tall, thin, blond. But my skin isn't perfect, my teeth are crooked, and I worry that my thighs are too thick. Am I good enough to actually earn money at this? I need money badly.

During the 45-minute drive to the club, Audrey coaches me. "Don't call me by my real name," she tells me. "Remember to call me Sierra. Don't steal a customer from another girl. Don't sit at the dressing table until I show you where you can. Never take your top off until the second song. If you're on stage two, don't take your top off until after the girl on stage one takes hers off. You tip out 10% to the bar, 10% to the DJ, and the bouncers get four or five bucks apiece. Don't touch the customers and remember that they can't touch you. Take the money in your G-string; don't let them do it for you."

My head buzzes with all the rules. That's a lot of "don'ts."

"Did you bring a lock?"

"A lock? Um ... no."

She shakes her head disparagingly. "Well, there's an empty locker. Just hope your stuff doesn't get stolen. Did you bring a purse?"

"No." I'm still stuck on stolen.

"I think I have one I can loan you. Never leave your money in your locker unless it's locked."

"Where do I put it?"

"When you're on stage you can set it next to the stairs. Just keep an eye on it. Some bitches will steal all your shit."

This information conforms to the stereotypes I've picked up from society about women who strip their clothes off for money. In films and television shows, strippers are drug addled, uneducated, trafficked, manipulative, and scorned. Audrey is a year ahead of me in college and is none of those things. But she speaks of her co-workers in ways that seem to confirm the stereotypes.

I don't know what I expect of the club, but I'm surprised when we pull into the parking lot of a strip mall. The club is nestled between a dry-cleaning place and a burger joint. The air smells like grease.

"This the new girl?"

The bouncer looks friendly enough and he smiles at me warmly. "I'm Ken," he says, holding out a hand. "Welcome."

I don't hesitate. "Desire." I had chosen the name from The Sandman comics after the androgynous hermaphrodite, sibling to the Dream King.

Ken doesn't even blink. "Welcome. If you need anything please ask."

He seems nice enough. "Thank you," I reply and Sierra pulls me into the club.

Again, not what I expected. The floor is polished concrete. A hardwood bar faces the door. It's shaped like a horseshoe and the portly, balding bartender gives me an unsmiling once-over. Three of the barstools are occupied and the men look at us with more friendly expressions.

"Hey, Sierra," one says. "Who's your friend?"

"Fresh meat," she says with a laugh.

This is not the last time I will be referred to as meat in this industry.

She leads me between a row of high-top tables and then through a maze of small, round tables. They are fake wood veneer and each has two chairs of the vinyl metal frame variety. There's the DJ booth on the left, basically a nook with a high counter. The DJ sits in shadow, lit only by the soft glow of a soundboard. She controls the stage lights as well, as I will learn.

The stage is long and wide against a mirrored wall. There is a brass pole at one end. Chairs line it in a single row against a low ledge for drinks. Two customers sit at the stage watching a dark-skinned girl with waist-length dreadlocks slowly gyrate. Her nipples are covered with crosses of black electrical tape. I stare while trying not to stare. She is beautiful, sensuous, under the lights flashing blue on her dark skin. Black lights line the stage, hidden under the lip at the edge, and they make her G-string glow electric pink.

"Come on." Sierra leads me through the tables and past the stage to a black door hidden in the shadows of a black wall. She opens it onto more blackness, but my eyes adjust and I see light spilling around a heavy curtain. We step into musty darkness between the door and the fabric and then on through into a long, narrow room.

Battered lockers line one wall and a wide counter runs opposite. Above the counter the wall is mirrored, tube fluorescents making the room very bright. At the opposite end of the room is another door,...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: John Hunt Publishing
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2018
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 1785357379
• ISBN 13: 9781785357374
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 192
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: Buchbär; info@buchbaer.de; ; Weberstr. 67; Osnabrück; 49084; Deutschland