I missed my subway stop. I couldn't put this down. Your power, your life, and your story is as interesting to read as it is amazing to underrstand through your writing. Thank you!
Girl. The professor's comment puts her in the same class as the girlfriend experience customers. You don't owe her meaning. Sex work can just be work. Someone is trying to cover up their guilty pleasure by making it a cautionary tale, an allegory, or "worth it". This isn't the bible... Your experiences don't have to pay off or be instructive in order to be valid. It feels like a way of bargaining -- I did something "bad" but I got this benefit from it. We don't have to do that to ourselves. The mosaic of of your life is still getting pieced and it's going to look like nothing until the very end.
I forgot tо mention that I appreciate your point that sex work can just be work. I think stripping/dancing/sex work are viewed differently now than when I worked at Crazy Girls. Back then, I faced a lot оf hypocrisy, judgment, and shame, which caused a lot оf confusion for me. What I was trying tо convey іn this piece іs that, while people might assume I felt morally conflicted about dancing, my real conflict was with how I felt I had tо navigate the music industry. I became defensive when the NYC guy tried tо pay me for sex, not because I judged prostitutes оr thought any less оf them, but because I felt *he* was judging me and suddenly seeing me іn a different light. He was treating me like a "whore," as defined by the patriarchy. In a way, I judged myself with the same harshness—not because оf my work at Crazy Girls, but because оf the compromises I made tо pursue a career іn music. As you said, the work was just work. But my relationship with music wasn't/isn't just a job. Which makes it so much harder to make sense of.
Agreed. I struggled a lot in my college writing class because it seemed like the professor wanted nothing but "personal essays" written for Modern Love et al. Like, every essay had to have some kind of lesson learned. But that's just not how life is. Tbh, I have a hard time reading a lot of those essays because they follow formulas that seem so contrived and generic. I want to be a good storyteller but I also want to tell it how it is. Shit happens and oftentimes, there's no rhyme or reason. I can't make sense of everything and I don't want to try to. When it comes to writing this kind of personal stuff, I feel fine about not having everything all figured out. Life is a mindfuck, nothing is black or white.
Your professor’s point about having a “takeaway” was equal parts interesting and frustrating - or maybe just more frustrating than interesting? If your college essay was anything like this entry, the reader can take away a lot on their own without having to be spoon fed a tidy conclusion or tl:dr. And jesus christ, are there *any* tidy conclusions in life? If so, I guess I’ve never been fortunate enough to have one. I’ve only had experiences that keep me up at night wondering and thinking or stressed out and regretful. The older I get, the more I suspect that’s life for most people.
The conversation you’ve kicked off about feminism and how it relates to dancing, waitressing, playing on stage to an awful crowd - is more than enough food for thought. I’d like to think a well written piece of work is one that inspires thought and conversation. If we want a takeaway, we can always re-read Aesop’s fables.
To be fair, the essay I submitted in class was pretty different. However, my professor was a big fan of spoon-fed conclusions, delivered wrapped up in a bow. There's a very specific formula/structure for personal essays that get published in magazines, online publications, Modern Love type columns. there's a very clear story arc and conclusion with a takeaway. That takeaway doesn't have to be a "lesson learned" but oftentimes, it is. Which I find kinda cringe, so I've always struggled to follow that formula. I'm not a fan of reading essays that follow that structure either. But I know it's important to get good at if you want to get an essay published. I definitely could have spent more time expanding on some of the themes in this piece but I'm a dick and waited until the very last minute to write it (Monday night!). I also just wanted to see what people took from it without too many things spelled out. I wanted to see what would happen if I just told the story as-is, without doing too much explaining. There's a lot to "unpack" in the story and it could be rewritten in numerous ways to fully explore several different themes, but I didn't want to commit to just one. I don't want this substack to become a writing class. I rather it read more like a diary-entry than a Cosmo piece. But maybe there's a happy medium I can try to find.
That’s fair! I may also have lifelong ptsd from overly structured grad school essays. “Issue, analysis, conclusion, repeat” and the issues and analyses are so dry. Regretfully, for a few years after I think I completely stopped writing or reading for pleasure because the joy was totally beaten out of me. School has a funny way of doing that.
I can attest to much of this and feel the battle within you. Not that I was a woman in music. Or a dancer. But I was a woman traveling with musicians. Who frequented dancers. And offers of payment or favors for sexual acts. Even me, who I and most would NOT consider desirable, was often thrown between bands for....things....and was always let down when those feelings of more than sexual exchange weren't reciprocated. I always thought they were my friends. But I guess I was a groupie, hoping to make a connection with people I admired or got o know very well, namely one singer of a band who confided some of his darkest moments in life with me- including his brother's suicide. Any way- I traveled with mainly one band for a long time and met many, many other bands along the way. The things I personally experienced, saw up close and from afar, heard, stood up against, and took without even fighting for/about- is sick. This entry today sparked a memory for me from maybe 2007-8-ish, with the drummer from a very popular then band that was on tour with the band I traveled with regularly. Some of us went to a strip club after a show, just to suffice the intoxicated wantings of this drummer. We "babysat" him for hours, while he paid for lap dances for all 4-5 of us with him from most every girl in the building. He paid, tipped very well on behalf of us all, and freely gave out his array drugs to anyone willing to do them with him. His offering to a woman....also named Jessica, who had just confided in he and I during casual conversation, over lines of amphetamines, that she was a mother of 2, newly divorced, and needing a medical procedure....was to give her the $4700 she needed in exchange for "coming onto the bus" - we all know what that means. She accepted. And for a long time, I almost felt disgusted by this. Walking them back to his bus, parting ways with her and feeling as though I abandoned her in some way. But I realized over time that this is just work. Work. She had no idea who said drummer was. She didn't care. She was not actually looking for drugs or to sell herself in that way. But it felt like a necessity for her in order to be able to have this monetary means to an end- a way to take care of herself for her children. And I've never looked at dancing/stripping/sex work the same way. I'm so glad you shared this with us. It's eye opening for a lot of people. Not everything should be judged and taken at face value.
Wow, thanks so much for sharing this. It really hit close to home, given my experience with bands on the road. They're pretty munch all the same, aren't they? Haha. You're so right, people are quick to judge without truly understanding the complexities of these situations. On the surface, it's easy for us as a society to jump to conclusions and write off women as groupies, sluts, gold-diggers, etc. But there is always so much more to the story. In the end, we are all just trying to survive and take care of ourselves. And who is to say what's better or worse or morally right or wrong when it comes to someone's means of survival?
The “takeaway” for me felt like, “I’m a human being and I want to be valued and seen and accepted” - that may not be the intention but that’s the story my own brain put together. I can’t relate to your particular experiences at all, sounds so hard, and it helps me to see how far we have to go towards treating everyone with respect and dignity. Maybe the part I relate to, just as a creative human being, is that I don’t want to be judged, I want to be able to do my art and music and be accepted and valued for that, ideally make a living doing that. Feels like human beings could do more to create a world for us all that values creative pursuits and lets people be themselves. Thank you for sharing your story.
I'm not even sure what a "takeaway" is. I mean, I get it, but I also don't think it's necessary. It was just a funny anecdote to mention how my professor dinged my grade. She totally messed up my GPA hahaha. Anyway, I like that you found something in this piece that resonated with you, despite you not being able to relate to the details. I think a lot of details are irrelevant. They just make for a good story. Overall, you're right, we are simply creative human beings looking for some kind of acceptance.
Lacked a "takeaway" ??? Wow, here's my takeaway -- you had an epiphany about what makes you feel free (the choice to do something and get paid for it vs. the helplessness of just having to suffer the indignities and harrassment for nothing!) And ... as you so eloquently put it, you realized this beautiful sentiment: "My identity as a feminist coexists with my identity as a performer, and together, they make me who I am: a resilient, resourceful woman finding her way in the world." So yeah. Mic drop.
This was a compelling read for many reasons. My main “takeaway” would be that expectations are really just an illusion. Where you thought you were bottoming out, you flipped the situation and owned it. Perhaps it wasn’t the stereotypic “Hollywood” ending, and that terrifies most people. However, In reality, it seems like it gave you a sense of appreciation and a new hunger for your art, ultimately proving how much integrity you have had from start.
What a story and beautifully written. I could feel your turmoil even writing it all these years later.
In my teens I had a girlfriend who was a model (yes, I was punching) she later went on to be a “pit lane” girl at the motor racing. She made good money but the unwanted attention was traumatic for her. That said, when the powers that be deemed it sexist and stopped it she was heartbroken.
Torn between the money and not having to put up with insecure arrogant men who think just because you are there then you’re fair game.
There’s good looking people in the world and if your looks earn you money then why not. Needs must sometimes.
Queen Kwong exists because of all that has happened before, good and bad.X
Society often makes women feel like they're "asking for" mistreatment and misogyny in these lines of work. Dancers, prostitutes, models, entertainers, etc are frequently stripped of their agency, as though they exist solely for someone else's needs, without their own boundaries being respected. As I mentioned, I also experienced this all of the time when I was a waitress. No matter what, we are humans and deserve to be treated equally. I hate the compromises women have had to make just to do their jobs or pursue their passions.
As the Dad of 2 beautiful girls it scares the shit out of me! My eldest works in a pub and has experienced misogyny quite often. It boils my piss. Luckily we have brought them up to be strong and not too suffer fools lightly. X
I missed my subway stop. I couldn't put this down. Your power, your life, and your story is as interesting to read as it is amazing to underrstand through your writing. Thank you!
Aha! Causing you to miss your subway stop is a huge compliment. Thanks for paying attention TO ME. XX
Girl. The professor's comment puts her in the same class as the girlfriend experience customers. You don't owe her meaning. Sex work can just be work. Someone is trying to cover up their guilty pleasure by making it a cautionary tale, an allegory, or "worth it". This isn't the bible... Your experiences don't have to pay off or be instructive in order to be valid. It feels like a way of bargaining -- I did something "bad" but I got this benefit from it. We don't have to do that to ourselves. The mosaic of of your life is still getting pieced and it's going to look like nothing until the very end.
I forgot tо mention that I appreciate your point that sex work can just be work. I think stripping/dancing/sex work are viewed differently now than when I worked at Crazy Girls. Back then, I faced a lot оf hypocrisy, judgment, and shame, which caused a lot оf confusion for me. What I was trying tо convey іn this piece іs that, while people might assume I felt morally conflicted about dancing, my real conflict was with how I felt I had tо navigate the music industry. I became defensive when the NYC guy tried tо pay me for sex, not because I judged prostitutes оr thought any less оf them, but because I felt *he* was judging me and suddenly seeing me іn a different light. He was treating me like a "whore," as defined by the patriarchy. In a way, I judged myself with the same harshness—not because оf my work at Crazy Girls, but because оf the compromises I made tо pursue a career іn music. As you said, the work was just work. But my relationship with music wasn't/isn't just a job. Which makes it so much harder to make sense of.
Agreed. I struggled a lot in my college writing class because it seemed like the professor wanted nothing but "personal essays" written for Modern Love et al. Like, every essay had to have some kind of lesson learned. But that's just not how life is. Tbh, I have a hard time reading a lot of those essays because they follow formulas that seem so contrived and generic. I want to be a good storyteller but I also want to tell it how it is. Shit happens and oftentimes, there's no rhyme or reason. I can't make sense of everything and I don't want to try to. When it comes to writing this kind of personal stuff, I feel fine about not having everything all figured out. Life is a mindfuck, nothing is black or white.
How do I log this into Goodreads (5/5)
I’ve been wondering the same thing… XX
Your professor’s point about having a “takeaway” was equal parts interesting and frustrating - or maybe just more frustrating than interesting? If your college essay was anything like this entry, the reader can take away a lot on their own without having to be spoon fed a tidy conclusion or tl:dr. And jesus christ, are there *any* tidy conclusions in life? If so, I guess I’ve never been fortunate enough to have one. I’ve only had experiences that keep me up at night wondering and thinking or stressed out and regretful. The older I get, the more I suspect that’s life for most people.
The conversation you’ve kicked off about feminism and how it relates to dancing, waitressing, playing on stage to an awful crowd - is more than enough food for thought. I’d like to think a well written piece of work is one that inspires thought and conversation. If we want a takeaway, we can always re-read Aesop’s fables.
As always, looking forward to your next entry :)
To be fair, the essay I submitted in class was pretty different. However, my professor was a big fan of spoon-fed conclusions, delivered wrapped up in a bow. There's a very specific formula/structure for personal essays that get published in magazines, online publications, Modern Love type columns. there's a very clear story arc and conclusion with a takeaway. That takeaway doesn't have to be a "lesson learned" but oftentimes, it is. Which I find kinda cringe, so I've always struggled to follow that formula. I'm not a fan of reading essays that follow that structure either. But I know it's important to get good at if you want to get an essay published. I definitely could have spent more time expanding on some of the themes in this piece but I'm a dick and waited until the very last minute to write it (Monday night!). I also just wanted to see what people took from it without too many things spelled out. I wanted to see what would happen if I just told the story as-is, without doing too much explaining. There's a lot to "unpack" in the story and it could be rewritten in numerous ways to fully explore several different themes, but I didn't want to commit to just one. I don't want this substack to become a writing class. I rather it read more like a diary-entry than a Cosmo piece. But maybe there's a happy medium I can try to find.
That’s fair! I may also have lifelong ptsd from overly structured grad school essays. “Issue, analysis, conclusion, repeat” and the issues and analyses are so dry. Regretfully, for a few years after I think I completely stopped writing or reading for pleasure because the joy was totally beaten out of me. School has a funny way of doing that.
I can attest to much of this and feel the battle within you. Not that I was a woman in music. Or a dancer. But I was a woman traveling with musicians. Who frequented dancers. And offers of payment or favors for sexual acts. Even me, who I and most would NOT consider desirable, was often thrown between bands for....things....and was always let down when those feelings of more than sexual exchange weren't reciprocated. I always thought they were my friends. But I guess I was a groupie, hoping to make a connection with people I admired or got o know very well, namely one singer of a band who confided some of his darkest moments in life with me- including his brother's suicide. Any way- I traveled with mainly one band for a long time and met many, many other bands along the way. The things I personally experienced, saw up close and from afar, heard, stood up against, and took without even fighting for/about- is sick. This entry today sparked a memory for me from maybe 2007-8-ish, with the drummer from a very popular then band that was on tour with the band I traveled with regularly. Some of us went to a strip club after a show, just to suffice the intoxicated wantings of this drummer. We "babysat" him for hours, while he paid for lap dances for all 4-5 of us with him from most every girl in the building. He paid, tipped very well on behalf of us all, and freely gave out his array drugs to anyone willing to do them with him. His offering to a woman....also named Jessica, who had just confided in he and I during casual conversation, over lines of amphetamines, that she was a mother of 2, newly divorced, and needing a medical procedure....was to give her the $4700 she needed in exchange for "coming onto the bus" - we all know what that means. She accepted. And for a long time, I almost felt disgusted by this. Walking them back to his bus, parting ways with her and feeling as though I abandoned her in some way. But I realized over time that this is just work. Work. She had no idea who said drummer was. She didn't care. She was not actually looking for drugs or to sell herself in that way. But it felt like a necessity for her in order to be able to have this monetary means to an end- a way to take care of herself for her children. And I've never looked at dancing/stripping/sex work the same way. I'm so glad you shared this with us. It's eye opening for a lot of people. Not everything should be judged and taken at face value.
Wow, thanks so much for sharing this. It really hit close to home, given my experience with bands on the road. They're pretty munch all the same, aren't they? Haha. You're so right, people are quick to judge without truly understanding the complexities of these situations. On the surface, it's easy for us as a society to jump to conclusions and write off women as groupies, sluts, gold-diggers, etc. But there is always so much more to the story. In the end, we are all just trying to survive and take care of ourselves. And who is to say what's better or worse or morally right or wrong when it comes to someone's means of survival?
It would be so nice if it didn't always feel like, survival, huh? (And YES they're all the same....)
The “takeaway” for me felt like, “I’m a human being and I want to be valued and seen and accepted” - that may not be the intention but that’s the story my own brain put together. I can’t relate to your particular experiences at all, sounds so hard, and it helps me to see how far we have to go towards treating everyone with respect and dignity. Maybe the part I relate to, just as a creative human being, is that I don’t want to be judged, I want to be able to do my art and music and be accepted and valued for that, ideally make a living doing that. Feels like human beings could do more to create a world for us all that values creative pursuits and lets people be themselves. Thank you for sharing your story.
I'm not even sure what a "takeaway" is. I mean, I get it, but I also don't think it's necessary. It was just a funny anecdote to mention how my professor dinged my grade. She totally messed up my GPA hahaha. Anyway, I like that you found something in this piece that resonated with you, despite you not being able to relate to the details. I think a lot of details are irrelevant. They just make for a good story. Overall, you're right, we are simply creative human beings looking for some kind of acceptance.
Lacked a "takeaway" ??? Wow, here's my takeaway -- you had an epiphany about what makes you feel free (the choice to do something and get paid for it vs. the helplessness of just having to suffer the indignities and harrassment for nothing!) And ... as you so eloquently put it, you realized this beautiful sentiment: "My identity as a feminist coexists with my identity as a performer, and together, they make me who I am: a resilient, resourceful woman finding her way in the world." So yeah. Mic drop.
This was a compelling read for many reasons. My main “takeaway” would be that expectations are really just an illusion. Where you thought you were bottoming out, you flipped the situation and owned it. Perhaps it wasn’t the stereotypic “Hollywood” ending, and that terrifies most people. However, In reality, it seems like it gave you a sense of appreciation and a new hunger for your art, ultimately proving how much integrity you have had from start.
Oh. And waitressing ..... WOOF!!!!! Never again.
What a story and beautifully written. I could feel your turmoil even writing it all these years later.
In my teens I had a girlfriend who was a model (yes, I was punching) she later went on to be a “pit lane” girl at the motor racing. She made good money but the unwanted attention was traumatic for her. That said, when the powers that be deemed it sexist and stopped it she was heartbroken.
Torn between the money and not having to put up with insecure arrogant men who think just because you are there then you’re fair game.
There’s good looking people in the world and if your looks earn you money then why not. Needs must sometimes.
Queen Kwong exists because of all that has happened before, good and bad.X
Society often makes women feel like they're "asking for" mistreatment and misogyny in these lines of work. Dancers, prostitutes, models, entertainers, etc are frequently stripped of their agency, as though they exist solely for someone else's needs, without their own boundaries being respected. As I mentioned, I also experienced this all of the time when I was a waitress. No matter what, we are humans and deserve to be treated equally. I hate the compromises women have had to make just to do their jobs or pursue their passions.
As the Dad of 2 beautiful girls it scares the shit out of me! My eldest works in a pub and has experienced misogyny quite often. It boils my piss. Luckily we have brought them up to be strong and not too suffer fools lightly. X