Sex for Sale~Prostitution, Pornography and the Sex Industry (23 page)

In strip clubs, the “beauties” are there as a live fantasy—young, available, interested, and accepting. These customers were keenly aware of the fact that, in addition to male bonding, competition between men also often centered on the struggle to gain attention from women outside the clubs. Many welcomed the opportunity to avoid this competition. In strip clubs, Gary said, “the pressure’s off. I have to be accepted.”

Some of the talk about the relaxing aspects of strip clubs for men, then, must be understood as interconnected with the vulnerabilities of the body as well as the pleasures. An emphasis on male sexual performance remains high in the social context of changes in the expectations of intimate relationships (increasing expectations that intimate relationships will provide psychological support and gratification), in the reasons that individuals enter into relationships (for companionship rather than economic need or familial duty), the increasing importance of sexuality in consumer culture, and changes in the meanings of sexuality (such as a growing acceptance of the idea that sexuality will provide “ever-increasing rewards and personal meanings”).23 A no-contact strip club thus offers a certain protection from vulnerability that other arenas—including the bedroom at home—may not. In a strip club, a customer can fantasize about a sexual encounter with a woman, yet is not responsible for actually physically performing or providing pleasure to her. He is also prohibited from revealing his naked body to the dancers, which in itself can provide another form of refuge from judgment. Customers also sometimes want to be accepted as objects of desire, asking questions about how it felt to be a dancer, both on the job and in other settings, stating things like, “It must
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be nice to have everybody want you,” “How does it feel to be perfect?” “Is it fun to be the one up on the pedestal?” or “I’d trade places with you if I could.”

The cross-identificatory wishes being expressed in such statements are rooted in complex fantasies of power, exposure, degradation, and idealization.24

Although more and more heterosexually identified women are visiting strip clubs featuring female dancers—with male partners, with business associates, and even with female friends—traditional strip clubs still generally create a masculinized space.25 Female customers may be shunned by dancers, harassed by male customers, or chided by the DJ for not taking the stage. For same-sex desiring women, the harassment may be even more extreme, as their very presence can challenge the heteronormative assumptions on which the transactions are unfolding. The presence of female strippers alone, then, is not always enough to make such venues enticing for women who want to view the female body erotically.

The Importance of BSSDW Space

BSSDW events in Washington, DC, offer a range of experiences—erotically charged, choreographed dance performances, lap dances, live nude shower shows, and pole acrobatics. Strip shows catering to BSSDW provide an accepting space where sexual desires towards women are not only allowed but expected and valued and where black women have permission to be openly expressive about their desires, without fear of judgment, harassment, or even violence. Black women told stories of being approached by men at traditional strip clubs and being “hit on” or made to feel uncomfortable. For this reason, at Soft ‘N’ Wet Afternoons and other events, men were either denied entry or placed under obvious (if playful) surveillance by the audience and the emcee.

Unless a man was known or announced as a personal guest (or his presence otherwise explained), the emcee always paid attention to male patrons through humor—such as suggesting he was gay or otherwise attempting to neutralize any threat the women might feel due to his presence. The emcee at these events—sometimes already a well-known community member or celebrity—

also played an important role in allowing BSSDW to cast off the cloak of black female respectability through modeling openly desiring behavior. Alternatively speaking to performers, addressing the audience, and expressing her own delight for all to hear (“You’ve got me all wet up in here now! You’d betta watch out or I’m-a come get you!”), the emcee helps reduce tension and relax the women’s inhibitions against experiencing and performing same-sex desire.

The needs of African-American women for safe and comfortable spaces must be contextualized historically as well, as they are connected up with
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discourses of race, class, gender, and sexuality. Racialized notions of the black female body as “hypersexual” were historically used to justify the sexual brutality inflicted on black women by white men under slavery. Black women have long sought to defend against accusations of promiscuity, immorality, and uncontrollable lustiness. Middle-class black women in particular have attempted to downplay expressions of sexual desire out of “racial obligation.”

In return, “the community gave them respect and recognition.”26 Among black working-class women, however, expressions of sexuality were also a vehicle for experiencing freedom and increased mobility after slavery, “one of the very few realms in which masses of African-American women could exercise some kind of autonomy: they could, at least, choose their sexual partners—and thus, they could distinguish their post-slavery status from their historical enslavement.”27 For a working-class black woman, choosing her own sexual partner was an act of liberation, albeit one for which black middle-class women judged them harshly. When the National Association of Colored Women formed in 1896, it charged middle-class black women with the task of going “among the lowly, illiterate and even the vicious, to whom they are bound by ties of race and sex . . . to reclaim them.” Yet, as Angela Davis writes, “in the process of defending black women’s moral integrity and sexual purity, sexual agency was almost entirely denied.”28

Gender and sexuality not only impact understandings and expressions of desires but also opportunities for enacting those desires. Hammers notes that

“struggles for legitimation have been in part about access to, and the claiming of, the public sphere.”29 And while men have long had access to venues providing sexual services and entertainment, “zones for sexual release, experimentation and casual sex geared towards women have never existed—

at least, not on any scale comparable to that of men.”30 Male privileges are usually reproduced in queer sex zones, meaning that lesbians more rarely establish their own sexual enclaves in urban areas, instead making “parallel use of any gay male social space that tolerates their presence.”31 For same-sex desiring women, then, marginalization, stigmatization, and victimization results in an enhanced need to feel accepted and embraced before feeling fully sexually agentic. As such, the presence of other customers at the strip events has an intense significance, although for different reasons than it does for male customers. If a space is identified as a BSSDW erotic party but does not fill to capacity, women experience less of the safety of anonymity and belonging, of being among others “like me.” Similarly, if promoters allow men to enter the space in order to cut their losses, the event may fail to produce the anticipated experience of acceptance and recognition. Rather than using tipping moments to stand out from the crowd in an affirmative way, as men do at their strip
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clubs, a woman in the same space is already standing out, by virtue of her gender—but without the control and choice to do so.

Petersen and Dressel argue that when women find a supportive environment for sexual expression such as a male strip club, they may exhibit aggressiveness in behavior similar to that displayed by men.32 Other researchers point out that women may be even more aggressive than men when interacting with strippers. Liepe-Levinson found that female customers were permitted physical liberties that were often denied to men— “mutually aggressive hugs, kisses, body caresses, lap-sitting, and dirty dancing,” in addition to touch or holding the “buttocks, chests and nipples of the male dancers,” with the genital area being the only off-limits body part.33 This was certainly the case at the events catering to BSSDW: female customers feel encouraged by the MC to engage in bawdy talk, “slapping asses,” or otherwise physically interacting with the dancers in ways that were prohibited in more traditional strip clubs. At the same time, however, BSSDW often claimed that female customers are “more respectful” than male customers. BSSDW found that they could touch dancers more readily, particularly on the dancers’ buttocks, because it was read as women appreciating each other’s bodies, as a participatory act of desire rather than a show of masculine dominance or disrespect to the dancer. Dancers who performed for male and female audiences often reported a preference for dancing for women, saying that women appreciated them more than men.

Johari, a 26-year-old black lesbian in the Air Force who describes the erotic parties as “a space where I could just relax and be myself and just present myself the way I wanted,” described her gender presentation as, “tomboyish, studdish, and dominant.” She noted that strippers in traditional strip clubs may not be “turned on by that” and that her masculine gender presentation caused her to “not get as many looks” from dancers in those settings. Like traditional strip clubs, she recognized that BSSDW parties are “a business, so they [dancers] won’t turn you down.” However, she also felt that some dancers at the events “really like” black female customers who present in a masculine way, providing an atmosphere of acceptance that was important to her.

Sociologist Mignon Moore points out that “the harshest, most critical language about black lesbians is reserved for women with a nonfeminine presentation of self,” explaining that “the fear of stigmatization from one’s own group members can be paralyzing, particularly when those whose opinions matter most, those to whom one feels closest, and those to whom one turns for support and protection from outsiders become one’s harshest critics.”34

BSSDW parties invite and elicit expressions of sexual desire between women inclusive of the gender variance among them—a valuable and rare experience for black women whose gender presentation falls within a range of categories.

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Johari explained that part of her enjoyment emerged from the opportunity to safely present herself in a more masculine way, pointing out the range of gender categories among black women beyond binary butch–femme dichotomies. She says, “in a woman-loving-women environment, there’s a lot more roles. To an outsider who is not an insider, we’re just imitating the traditional scene” of gender binaries, when in fact, there are a variety of gender categories recognized among black women. Moore identifies three of these categories:

[F]emmes, or feminine women . . . they wear dresses or skirts, form-fitting jeans, tops that are low cut or that show cleavage, makeup, jewelry and accessories such as a purse or high-heeled shoes that display a sense of femininity. . . . Gender-blender [is] a style related to but distinct from an androgynous presentation of self . . . they usually wear certain men’s clothing like pants or shoes, combined with something less masculine like a form-fitting short or a little makeup. . . .

[Transgressives] usually wear men’s clothing and shoes and coordinate these outfits with heavy jewelry, belts with large, masculine buckles, and ties or suspenders for a more dressed-up look.35

Moore is careful to remind us that these gender categories are “limited to how they look physically” and are “not necessarily connected to any specific personality traits or ideologies about gender or gender display.”36 Moore also points out that individuals do not necessarily fit into one category exclusively.

Johari felt the same gender range was true among both the audience and performers at the parties. Whereas traditional strip clubs offered mostly feminine women as performers, BSSDW parties were more diverse: I have gone to the Wet/The Edge—that’s where I’ve seen the most shows. Most of the doms don’t get completely naked. They wear a sports bra or something.

They’ll be dressed up with the tie for someone’s birthday. I respect them for doing that. I’ve seen Ace the MC, she’s one of the more infamous emcees in the DC area. I would consider her a dom . . . but she was doing the show and then came out in some feminine clothes and she started taking off stuff—and then she showed her crotch! . . . You never know when you’re going to see a special show. In that space, people are allowed to express themselves how they want. For the most part, the audience responded well and that was really good to see. I think it’s sexy, actually!

BSSDW parties thus provided opportunities for gender play, where supposedly discrete categories of gender presentation are multiplied, along
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with blurring lines of “who does what” and “to whom” based on gendered expectations of sexual desire and agency.

Another aspect of customer engagement in the BSSDW erotic parties is determining whether the female dancers are authentically “into” women or if their performance is “just an act.” Having contact with customers while retaining a level of mystery is a balancing act that can make a dancer wildly successful, not just in terms of her image, tips, or payment for performance but also to increase audience demand at events where she performs as customers seek opportunities to interact with her and observe her responses—

and perhaps get a glimpse into her “real” sexual identity. One audience member at Soft ‘N’ Wet repeatedly pointed out which of the black female dancers she thought was “gay,” “straight,” “bi,” “with a boyfriend,” or “with a girlfriend once but is single now.” Whether or not she was correct in identifying dancers’ personal sexual identities was not as notable as her feeling that such information was valuable and proof of her ability to gather “inside”

information about performers, beyond the “act” that dancers perform and