You all get that the modern influx of sensual dance and pole fitness all started with strippers right?
Sex workers right?
The carneys of the burlesque freak shows and titty bar coins in a beer cup broad.
Women who were dark renegades living at a time (not very long ago and many still are) where they were disowned, shamed, exploited and living out life as the epitome of mid night
hustlers.
Women who swung their hips in hypnotic swirls and where their eros worked as currency.
These women were at the forefront of the erotic embodiment revolution, garter belt loaded.
Women who literally put themselves in danger everyday and left civilised society to live on the edge because they had a taste for the taboo.
Women who would get abused in clubs and on the street for their sensual choice of career.
Women who in the 80s and 90s had to prove their power through basically performing as dance doms, strutting with fierce conviction slamming their patent leather boots on the stage; finishing with a perfect front split.
The dark Marilyn Monroes. Women with Lilith on their tongues and between their thighs.
Sweet barbie blondes who could play the part of “nice for a dime” and then turn red eyed and rip you to shreds.
The freedom seekers out to live life on their own terms yet still battled with the hard grain of moving against the collective swell.
Women who were leading the sexual revolution that you and I today reap the casual rewards off on social media or in your next erotic embodiment course.
Even 15 years ago when I entered the stripping industry, I remember often feeling the heavy douce of shame for my stripper heals sticking out of my bag, the very heels that are flaunted today by many “straight” chicks in photo shoots and popstars galore.
When I was 18 my best friend locked herself in the toilet crying when she saw my perfectly tacky sequinned g string show girl bikini, something festival chicks galavant around in today.
One time a whole party of people turned on me after I told a girl I was a stripper and they bullied me until I cried. I was out in the middle of nowhere. I remember it like it was yesterday.
Stripper pride was only for the dingy 4am bars where everyone else there were also societies rejects.
You had to be tough.
The cookie cutter stripper classes, the light weight seduction workshops, the pretty in pink stripperfied feminine embodiment teachers; would be nothing without the erotic renegades of the not so distant past.
I think about all those women I worked with, the young & the old. Women who truly loved the fuck out of their work. They were all such fascinating characters, masters of seduction and entertainment.
I wish I could sit down with them today and reflect to them how fucking badass they were. How their bravery to forge their own paths, their love of the erotic and their utter commitment as ladies of the night, was the beginnings of a HUGE fucking erotic consciousness revolution for today’s western women.
Sister, if you are reading this I want you to see yourself surrounded by thousands of women from today & the future. You were dancing on a thread of legacy.
They are bowing to you.