What I Learned from a Stripper

June 4, 2009

One thing most people wouldn’t guess about me is that I’ve been to a lot of strip clubs. Go ahead, judge me… I don’t mind; because that bit of trivia means something different to you than it does to me. You haven’t walked in my shoes, or seen what I’ve seen. But I’ll share with you what I learned from a stripper.

A TRUE FRIEND

This story begins when I was 12, and my family moved from Costa Rica to Los Angeles. I didn’t know a soul, nor did I know what American teens were like. I wasn’t lost and alone for too long, though, before a bright young girl took me under her wing. We’ll call her “Janet”. It was a little like the movie Beaches, and she was my Bette Middler.

Janet was brave, tough, funny, smart, and completely awesome in my pre-teen view. I remember the day our IQ’s were tested, I was a “high achiever,” but she was a “genius”! She went on to join the Future Business Leaders of America (FBLA) and was all set to conquer the world. That was one amazing, sweet kid.

When it was time for high school my family moved away. I lost track of her for a bit, while I was busy over-achieving. It turned out Janet had been struggling with some problems in her chaotic home, and money got tighter than ever. The next time I talked to her she said she was stripping to help her parents make ends meet. She was fifteen at the time (with a fake ID).

When I saw her again she wasn’t the same girl at all. She was painfully thin and pale, with sores all over her body. Apparently, she had started using Crystal Meth, like some of the other dancers did, to work those crazy shifts and numb her feelings. It all seemed terribly unfair to me. Janet had every bit of the potential I had, probably more. But I happened to be born into slightly better circumstances, and she paid a price for that.

A HELPING HAND

When I was in college I tried to help her by letting her stay in my apartment while I was gone flying in the summer. I thought maybe she could work in San Diego, get away from the bad influences she was around in L.A., and just worry about taking care of herself, for a change. I thought she might get back on her feet, and back on track.

San Diego was a good bit more prudish about strippers than L.A. was. In order for her to be a dancer in San Diego, I had to take her to the police department to be issued a permit. They educated us (and several other strippers) about the rules and regulations… and there were a LOT of them. When we left I said, “Man! Guys can get more nakedness and action at the beach, and for free!”

Janet explained to me that they aren’t paying for real action or real intimacy; they pay good money to live a fantasy. They want to escape from something in their real lives into a world of no responsibilities, where beautiful, naked women compete for their attention. I thought they sounded an awful lot like teenage boys.

When I took her to apply for a job at a local club, I was sitting at the bar while I waited, watching the scene before me. To the patrons it was clearly a fantasy (She wants me). To the dancers it was nothing but a paycheck (When will this shift be over?). Occasionally, the girls would look up at me and smile… not like they wanted a tip, but like they could really use a friend. I just waved and smiled back, not sure what else to do. Janet got the job, and worked there most of the summer. She was gone when I returned.

OTHERS LIKE HER

After that experience I found myself in several other strip clubs because I was a pilot, hanging out with pilot GUYS. Going to strip clubs with them was a little like women in business going to play golf… they don’t HAVE to, but if they don’t go, they miss out on the camaraderie (and often the promotions, too!). Besides, to me these places weren’t taboo; they were akin to factories… where women clock in and out just to pay the bills.

Some of the clubs didn’t have a separate restroom for women, so I was directed to use the locker room, where the dancers were changing clothes and waiting for their shift. I will never forget what it felt like to see one world of shimmery, seductive glamor out on the stage, and a completely different one in the locker room.

Back there they were normal women, some mothers, some young girls; they were all struggling to make ends meet. There was talk of kids, boyfriends, husbands, troubles at home… all the usual stuff women talk about at work. They were just girls, like me, but with fewer options. They reminded me of Janet.

As much as I would like to find Janet again, I didn’t use her real name because I’m hopeful. I want to believe she was able to beat the drug habit, and get a regular job. I would love to believe she has a great career now, and a loving family (who may not know about that phase in her life.) I need to believe she did the statistically improbable and survived all of her challenges to find a better life. If you happen to know otherwise… please don’t tell me.

WHAT I LEARNED

1. Fantasy – People will pay and risk a lot to live a fantasy, even briefly, in order to escape their everyday lives.

2. Reality – All kids have big dreams; not all will have the chance to pursue them. Believing we all have the same options and opportunities is an idealistic myth.

3. Perception – What we see may not be what is real. We need to look past the veil of illusion to see the real person.

4. Assumption – Some people assume exotic dancers are consenting adults making poor choices. But many of them started as kids, or had no other options, then dug themselves a pit of quicksand that is not so easy to get out of. Don’t assume.

5. Compassion – As Shakespeare said, “All that glitters is not gold.” Some sparkly, shimmery things are far from it. People may look strong and perfect, but in reality they may be sad and broken. They are just people… with feelings. We should care.

I guess the main lesson I learned is that I should never judge another, since I have not walked in her shoes.

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Posted in compassion, helping others