rhian/19/stripper. i'm a junk food addict and i'm feisty.
So I fact checked this thing and it checks out, and it’s incredibly INCREDIBLY important, because many clubs use illegal labor practices like charging dancers t work, misclassifying them as independent contractors, demanding a portion of the dancer’s tips, or failing to pay them at the bare minimum minimum wage.
So exotic dancers of tumblr, you need to read this, it is incredibly important and then something needs to be done. File a complaint, file a suit over wage theft, unionize, because they are doing SO MUCH ILLEGAL SHIT.
Please spread this like fucking wildfire.
Yeah, this always drove me crazy. Even more maddening was when the other ladies would just look and me and shrug, like they were so brainwashed by the system that they didn’t even care. The ONLY reason anyone comes to a strip club is to see ladies dance/strip. I mean, surely they aren’t coming for the $15 cocktails. So why the hell are the dancers PAYING to work? Not only that, but in many clubs, the dancers pay the DJ, the housemom, the bouncers, the valets. Bunch of shit.
they had a poster where i worked saying that we had to be paid min wage lol. but we didnt, we paid 25-35 not counting djs(10 percent or 10 bucks) and house mom(5 dollars) plus security (5 dollars) and once every Thursday a month we had to pay 100 to get in and 5 dollars off every lap dance. if we ever complained we would get answered, but who will play the music for you, but who will be your security, but how will you get in the club
That’s what really scares me.
Falling in love is easy. Having sex is easier. But bumping into someone that can spark your soul - that shit is rare.
You could fuck four, five, all the people in a god damned room and you’d only feel a connection with one. Or none at all.
And what sucks is despite the undeniable real magnetic pull between the two of you, more often than not, you don’t end up together.
I’m afraid I won’t meet anyone else I can connect with.
I’m scared it’ll be just you.
"By stripping, you’ve taken the easy way out!"
In that case, I challenge you to enter a room full of men and separate them from your rent. Tonight. Within eight hours. Remember—strippers don’t get paychecks, and every dime you make must be personally hustled.
I challenge you to make this money while being only one among dozens of other attractive women hustling for the exact same dollars.
I challenge you to have the same charming conversation eighty times over the course of eight hours with increasingly drunk and nasty customers.
I challenge you to make yourself seem like eighty different men’s exact fantasy eighty different times in eight hours at $10 a pop.
I challenge you to work in a field where your very body is the product you sell, and yet still keep a loving self-image (among other things, I was recently told that my breasts are not “real breasts” because they are “small and ugly”).
I challenge you to listen to such misogynistic venom throughout the night that you find yourself clutching your steering wheel on the four a.m. drive home sputtering ” fuck you, fuck you” to the silent darkness of the night.
I challenge you to understand that, even though you’re socking away money so your family can have a better future—when the world finds out what you do, you are to them only a “bad mother,” a “bad wife.”
I challenge you to be a “dumb slut” in the eyes of the world when your heart is beating with brilliance and art.
"Taking the easy way out," huh?
I challenge you to be a stripper.