Tagged: tits and sass

hmm

the cupcake girls are blowing up my instagram saying they are a nonreligious nonprofit and that the woman who told me she was a minister and offered me spiritual guidance was very wrong to do so. they apologised for her.  So I took that opportunity to ask them if I could do an interview with them and volunteer with them for a few days.

Tits & Sass, Quote of the Week 9/8

“When I moved to Atlanta I was made aware of a peculiar pastime of the city’s white frat boy elite. They apparently enjoy getting drunk and visiting one of the city’s many legendary black strip clubs rather than the white strip clubs. The fun part of this ritual seems to be rooted in the peculiarity of black female bodies, their athleticism and how hard they are willing to work for less money as opposed to the more normative white strippers who expect higher wages in exchange for just looking pretty naked. There are similar racialized patterns in porn actresses’ pay and, I suspect, all manner of sex workers. The black strip clubs are a bargain good time because the value of black sexuality is discounted relative to the acceptability of black women as legitimate partners.”

Pole Dancing Doesn’t Make You A Stripper, Twerking Doesn’t Make You Black

Pole Dancing Doesn’t Make You A Stripper, Twerking Doesn’t Make You Black

Kat: Thanks to Miley Cyrus, female strip club customers have actually been slightly easier for me to deal with lately. While “twerk” has been part of strip club vernacular for years, only in the past few months have women at the rack begged me to twerk. The first time I had a doe-eyed girl plead earnestly, “Can you twerk for me?” I had to choke back laughter. But then I learned that all I have to do is flex one butt cheek and I’m met with a disproportionate amount of fanfare. Honestly, “Can you show me the difference between twerking and making it clap?” is a welcome change from the usual “work the pole, bitch!” (actual quotes). I probably also owe Miley some gratitude for setting the twerking bar so low that those who apparently have never seen a Ciara video think I know what I’m doing.

Say “female customers” and most strippers will roll their eyes and sigh. Lady raunch culture personified in heels it doesn’t know how to walk in, trolling for anything to brag about on Monday morning. They tuck single dollars in their cleavage or stare at me with desperate eyes because they can’t yell with their teeth clenched around a bill, and I die a little on the inside and pretend I don’t see them. I stay out of arm’s reach, because withholding attention will cause them to slap me so hard that it leaves a mark. I can’t deliver what they want (unless it’s twerking from a safe distance) because I don’t know what that is, because they don’t actually know either, and because they wouldn’t spend money even if they did.

“There Can’t Be Numbers:”

An Interview With Laura Agustín, Part 2

Everyone wants this thing called research to prove one position or another, but it can’t. Even if there were enough funds to do massive studies with a range of methodologies and amazingly objective researchers, the target is impossible to define and pin down. It’s the same problem as with numbers, the fact that the subjects of interest are operating outside formal networks. Of course you can have small ethnographic studies that provide real insight into particular people at a certain time and place, but those studies cannot prove anything in general. And certainly not about legal regimes, as in the quarrel over which causes more exploitation.

Over a very long period we may come to understand the effects of a regime like the Dutch, but it is too early now. I did research in Holland amongst people concerned with how the policy was working in 2006, when it was already clear that offering regulation only brought part of the sex industry into government accounting. Businesspeople interested in operating outside the law continued to do so; many escort agencies and other sex businesses refused to register; migrants not allowed work permits came and worked anyway and so did people facilitating their travel and work, and, in many cases, exploiting them. None of which proves that the whole system ‘increases trafficking’. You cannot even coherently discuss an increase in trafficking when there are no baseline figures to compare with. On top of which agreement about what everyone means by the wordtrafficking simply does not exist. This goes for both the Dutch situation and the Swedish – claims about trafficking going up or down cannot be proved.

“There Can’t Be Numbers:”

An Interview With Laura Agustín, Part 1


the point is that there can’t be numbers for the people being talked about here, who don’t register anywhere when they cross borders and who work off the books. I don’t think the Voice’s article will affect anything because previous ones didn’t – theVoice was not the first – or perhaps in the US but not elsewhere: been there, done that.

Shortly after I began to do formal research I understood that numbers are not obtainable for undocumented migration. I have reviewed several statistical methods that claim to make realistic estimates but am unconvinced, like many other scholars. However, the belief in numbers is a tenet of our time, and people can’t be persuaded that the correct data do not exist somewhere. The idea is that if we could know how many of every type of person there is we could somehow achieve justice for everyone – well, I don’t believe that, either.

But I also think it’s not useful to take debunking-talk to the point of talking about myths, as though there were no serious problems with migration. The conversations that are avoided through arguments about numbers are much harder: finding new kinds of migration policies and new visions of the so-called formal-informal economy divide.

My post on consent for Tits and Sass is up

I Pretend I’m Horny, You Pretend You’re a Dog

Even more common are the customers who, while receiving a lap dance, will announce how hard it is not to touch me, how crazy I’m making them and how they can’t believe they’re actually restraining themselves. The weird part is, most of these guys are sitting perfectly calmly, hands at their sides or gently resting on my hips; the tortured anguish of their words isn’t reflected in their tone or their face. I never know what to say to this; it seems laughable that they’d want accolades for adhering to the bare minimum of respectful behavior and abiding by fairly well-established rules, but there you go, they do. I coo at them how impressed I am and how strong they are, wondering if I’m overdoing it. But apparently, I’m not. It’s like we’re both performing our parts in a ritual: he expresses his masculinity with these protestations and I get to reaffirm it, as audience to, as well as cause of, his struggle.

It’s a question I’m increasingly preoccupied by; are these protestations sincere? To some extent it seems to be part of these men’s understanding of their role as strip club customer: they come here to relax, to let loose with some girls gone wild. They wouldn’t know how to just sit back and let me do my thing. They’re just doing their duty by moaning about how hard it is to restrain themselves. It’s the rhetoric of catcallers, of rape culture, and they take it on so easily. I want to know if this is how most men see themselves.1 Why is customer pleasure so often constructed in opposition to personal boundaries, and does it need to be?

Some BitterWhiteGuy already wants to talk abt it.