Dancers frequently actually have to pay to dance. It’s called a stage fee or a house fee. And they usually have to share tips with bartenders and other staff.
Edit: Yes I’ve know several strippers, including one heading up some of the movement to unionize specifically in NOLA.
I’m not talking about burlesque or Vegas showgirls. Artistic expression covers an unimaginably vast spectrum.
But lap dances and that stack of 1s and 5s at the tip rail are there to service the male boner (or otherwise titillate the interested viewer). The choreography might be appreciated, but is hardly necessary to achieve the end result.
A minimum of 15 pieces of flair?
A thousand times this fake shit.
Local chains can be bad too, no matter the business.
Prot Land has a strip cluster (not quite a chain) called Casa Diablo, and it’s like Voodoo Donuts: every new resident goes once. If it’s to their liking, they go back. All strip joints are weird. I always end up dumbfounded at the zoo-like atmosphere even as the jimmies rustle at the drunken idiocy and naked hustling… and things lower down move around. They aren’t the kind of place I can hang out.
A regional bar-eatery chain called McMenamins is much better than the Chili’s nonsense. They refurbish historical properties into hotels, theaters and event spaces even as they open up the worst bars ever in shitty strip malls. People who work there don’t like the corporate crap but at least it isn’t a fucking Chili’s or Claimjumper.
The choreography is to keep the strippers from getting bored as much as anything.
Strip clubs being shitty or not shitty is a different discussion from turning a famous area into a shopping mall with chain stores and chain restaurants.
I’d rather keep the chains out of the neighbourhood and then work on making sure none of the businesses are shitty to their employees separately.
I have a story to share and I’m not sure if it belongs here, or in Molesters Being Outed, or if a whole new thread about Not Being Complicit needs to be started:
Yesterday was one of those days where my kid was off hanging out with her bestie and not in my hair, so I spent most of it doing errands.
When it came time for a late lunch, all I wanted was some shrimp tacos and a vanilla coke; so I walked down to the local taco truck, with a quick detour to Jack in the Box first. (I don’t eat their food, but soft drinks are fair game.)
Even though the line wasn’t long it took forever to get to the register, and while I was waiting, I noticed three tween girls in line behind me, giggling nervously and staring out the window.
At first I thought it was just kids being kids, silly and probably annoying, but then I overheard some of what they were saying:
“Oh my god, he’s got it out.”
"That’s so nasty! "
“I dare you to shout ‘put your dick away’…”
That made my head snap up and I moved slightly so I could see out the window as well.
Sure enough, there was a weird, creepy-looking middle-aged dude out in the parking lot, standing between two cars with his dick out of his pants.
My nose wrinkled in disgust, and at first I assumed he must be urinating.
But then I saw him looking directly at the young girls who were rightfully freaking out.
And then he decided to come into the restaurant, with the obvious intent of intimidating the threesome.
Now, living in a fairly populous metropolitan area, I’ve seen all sorts of unsavory, inappropriate behavior out in public; people relieving themselves, having sex or even doing drugs.
Usually, I just shake my head and mind my own business, but this wasn’t one of those days.
The tweens were understandably alarmed by the perv’s approach, and as he got in line behind them, they instinctively shied away, huddling closer to the nearest adult who seemed ‘safe,’ - me. They started chattering loudly, insinuating that I was their ‘mom.’
My response?
Pure Melizmatic.
First I made a joke, telling them they were trippin’ if they thought I seriously looked old enough to be the mother of all three of them, before giving them serious advice: “What that man just did is illegal. Do any of you have a phone? Get it out…”
Then I turned around and took the perv’s picture with my own phone, saying loudly enough for the whole restaurant to hear:
“I saw what you did, that shit is illegal and I just took your picture. You leave these three girls alone, unless you want us to call 911 on you. if anything shady should happen to them, I will be sending this picture to the authorities. No more enabling rape culture. Now FUCK OFF.”
The perv got noticeably jumpy, started mumbling incoherently, and tried to avoid having his photo taken, but I got one anyway.
I repeated my admonishment loudly, and then finally it was my turn to place my order. While at the counter, I told the cashier everything, and that she needed to contact their security. (Her facial expression of instant revulsion and outrage was pretty gratifying.) The perv quietly beat a hasty retreat out of Jack in the Box.
Before I left, I told the group of young girls, "When you get your food, you get yourselves to where ever you’re headed post haste, and you keep your phones handy. Don’t be ever be afraid to make a loud fuss if someone creeps you out. "
Then I walked down to the taco truck and finally got my tacos.
Valar dohaeris.
Read the text pictured.
Ugh. Is that the one that goes, “Historically women haven’t been granted loans, so they’re an unknown credit risk, and therefore high-risk and less likely to get a loan?”
(For “woman” insert your choice of equity-seeking group.)
Nope. It’s about how you don’t even need bias to perpetuate inequality, just ignore the inequalities that exist.
Either way it sounds like a book I should read. I placed a hold at the library.
I lurve her.
This is good.
More like Ed Young please.
I’m sure a lot of abusers tell themselves their victims want it or wanted it. … And a lot of survivors tell themselves they want it, or wanted it, because they’re not in a situation to say they don’t want it.
Fuck.
Fuck power relationships.
Fuck people with power fucking (over) people who are vulnerable.
