There are mysteries that call us. Far deeper than we dare to complicate. At the expense of ourselves we stay inside of the lines.
When I jumped out of a plane, I was petrified. I saw death as I drove to the sky diving center. Everything in me shook with terror. My soul had always called me to do it. But on this day I laid on the green grass and breathed deeply into it. I begged it to return me to the ground safely. I was bleeding that day. Close to my soul. Close to my shadow. I imagined everything in my life going on without me. I knew that if I dared to jump I had to be prepared for the worst. There’s plenty of things we do in this life that are dangerous. But the things we do when we know we are putting ourselves in danger and do them anyway are those that, if fatal, others shrug their shoulders at and say “she put herself in that position”.
I put myself in that position. And when I reflected on my life I thought- is there anything I would regret about this lifetime? One thing was glaring at me. I never stripped. And I will forever regret it if I never do.
When I landed safely and kissed the ground with gratitude, I swiftly dismissed this one glaring thing. I must’ve been crazy for a moment I thought. But 8 months later, as I was preparing for a performance, I landed right on my tailbone. I was out of all work for nearly a month - first in agony and devastated wondering what was wrong. I had no health insurance. The one x-ray I got showed nothing was wrong. But I could barely walk. And as a professional dancer, I was TERRIFIED. Especially since this was my only source of income and funds were very low.
Once again as I lay there and reflected about my life and career, I thought- I never stripped. And I must.
This wasn’t very outlandish thinking for me. I've always loved nothing more than to embody my sexuality and provocation is one of my favorite words.
But I came from a middle class background. I went to 14 years of Catholic School. While I felt entirely sure about my path of rebellion, stripping sounded dangerous. It sounded like a last resort. An environment of misogyny and a fall from grace. Was I really ready to face the shadows?
I was 26 when I auditioned at the club. It was Easter Sunday. Something I am very proud of. Because it was on that day that I returned to my holyness. Wholeness. That day that I had put all that I had been practicing: the art of seduction, the power of pleasure, a turned on life, and years and years of dance training - to good use. I was broke. Not broken but financially broke. The 4 gigs I was working at the time all had a consistent issue: they NEVER paid on time. Nor did they even establish a time frame within which payment could be expected. It was frustrating. Devastating. And it was toying with my self respect and self worth.
I was filled with butterflies- equal parts excited and terrified. How could I dare to stand in front of a room full of strange, leering men and take my top off confidently? Well I’d imagined this scenario many times before. Each time wondering: could I really do this?
It was time to audition. I wore sheer black tights with the ass cut out and a deep red sheer and lace one piece. Conservative for stripper life, I would later find out. I offered the DJ my music selection (How’s That by FKA Twigs), took a deep breath and asked the Divine Feminine to live through me. I strutted to the center of the stage. What happened there was a shrill excitement that I was very familiar with. The excitement of performance. Of seduction. Of brazenness. There were less than 5 men in the red velvet covered room. But when I made eye contact with them they were enamored. I could feel their eyes heat my every inch as I writhed decadently. I arched my back, ever so slowly. As if moving in slow motion, I made love to the air around me. I basked in the warmth of the stage lights and allowed my hands to caress my breasts, my bare ass cheeks, I flipped my hair. When it came time to peel off my top it came naturally. I felt no hesitation. In fact I only felt liberation. Stare at my beauty. I invited each pair of eyes to shower me. A few men came to the front and poured money onto the stage.
When time was up, I collected my dollars and strutted back to the dressing room. I felt so alive. I felt so naughty. My cheeks were flushed and I was turned all the way on by my power.
That night I made over $400 that I walked away with in my pocket. Cash. At the time, that was nearly my rent. I felt that the gates had opened at last. I was about to make MONEY. Quickly and eagerly. Relief and ecstatic joy rushed through my body. It was just the beginning. Just the beginning of financial stability. And I was SO READY FOR IT.
That summer I had too many travel plans. Too many to make it work with the way I was barely making ends meet. Each was important to me. So very important. Firstly, my 5 year college reunion. Secondly, my high school best friend's wedding to a man she had been dating since our high school days, thirdly a major project I had been planning with my partner for over a year. How was I going to make this happen?
Dancing. Erotically.
That summer and every year after, I did every damn thing I wanted to do.
