Dancing to the Sound of Cash

English 1001
Joshua Pleming
Dancing to the speed of Cash
I recall her expression when I asked about participating in an online interview. She was shocked yet interested. I explained that it was for my English 1001 class. She was hesitant at first. She was worried about exposure of her double life. Being a stripper wasn’t something she wanted flaunted, mostly because of her flying in from Houston every weekend to strip. The purpose behind it being that she didn’t want anyone she knows knowing about it. I assured her that I would leave her name out of it. She said that would work out for her but if I needed a name I could refer to her by her stage name, “Yoshi”.

We were sitting in our friend Paris’s living room of his apartment. Where we had first met about a month ago. She stays with Paris on the weekends and since I’m always over there hanging out, we got to know each other and it didn’t take long for us to form a friendship The room consisted of two glass tables with high leather chairs and also two red and white suede couches. We sat comfortably on the couches going over the interview. She’s a cute little Vietnamese with black hair with a blonde strip for bangs. She’s very light skinned with a well toned body. She was wearing sweat pants and a t-shirt. It was mid-day afternoon. She had gotten off work at four o’clock in the morning, so she was just waking up. She seemed tired and worn out and her face seemed to still contain small amounts of eye make-up. She snuggled up with a blanket from LSU, while I interviewed her.
I asked her small questions first, things like, “where are you from?” and “Why be a stripper?” Her answers were straight forward and to the point. She said she was from Vietnam and she had come over with her family when she was very young. From the serious lack of money, she had developed a fondness for money. That was her purpose in occupying a position as a stripper. Her need for money supplied her with the drive and courage to attempt stripping. Granted, she’s not proud with her choice of work but she knows where the money is. I asked her she came about to stripping. She said that she attended school in Texas but she had friends here in Louisiana. They were constantly calling her asking her to come down and visit. One particular friend, Paris, who she had met in high school, had even told her that his place was always open for her. “Yoshi” began thinking about the possibilities of coming down to New Orleans. She decided that it would be financially beneficial to spend the weekends in New Orleans working.
She knew there was money in being a stripper from once working as a bartender and seeing how the dancers racked up a large sum of money. So, she packed her things and made her way to New Orleans. She stepped into the bar, which I will remain nameless for the sake of the interviewee, and was disgusted at the very sight. It was a cheap and tacky décor for a club. There was red velvet everywhere. The booths, chairs, curtains, even the table cloths were tacky red velvet. She spoke with the owner of the bar and she was soon all set to strip. The owner was surprisingly nice guy. “Yoshi” had been expecting some sleazy, balding guy with a beer belly. The owner was dressed sharp in a button down and black dress pants. He appeared to be in very good shape. He spoke professionally and only took one glance to asses “Yoshi’s” physical traits. They set up payment and set her up for work that Friday.
The physical pain in her legs from the first night of dancing subsided and she settled into the job with ease, while still maintaining another life in Houston. She averages at least one thousand dollars a night. “Yoshi’s” facial expression changed at that moment. It seemed like she was taking a five second breather before starting up again.
She began again by saying that the money is great but it didn’t take her long after starting work to realize that there was more to strippers than she realized. Not just she but the other strippers working at the bar seemed to each hold a different story. “Yoshi” had held a skewed glimpse of New Orleans as being a sleazy town that she had never thought to consider the possibility that there might have been more to being a stripper than wanting some quick cash.
I asked her if the money came easy or were there more obscure things she had to do. She laughed and said there was one particular event that had provided her a lot of cash. She said one night when she was dancing, a customer asked her to go with him to a club. At first she was reluctant. The man was overweight and looked like he had that tired look on his face, as if he had spent too much time on the internet looking at porn. He said he would pay her a thousand dollars. “Yoshi” knew better than to pass up an opportunity like this one. She accepted his offer. The evening went fine. She got her money and just dropped her back off at the strip joint where her car was. I asked her if any of the other strippers did things like that. She said they get asked a lot but most of them more important things going on in their life, so they usually just want to dance and then go home.
“Yoshi” started to tell me how a few of these girls were mothers doing the best they could to support their families. They sacrificed their dignity and morals to feed and clothe their children. Some strippers were actual runaways that had no way of surviving without a means of income. They barely lived off the money they worked for. “Yoshi” gained a new perspective of her surroundings. She didn’t see strippers. She saw women, survivors and fighters. These women do something that many feel they are above. “Yoshi” interrupted herself for a moment to say that not all of these women are all that selfless; that there were a few trashy women that were in it for sick reasons, but the bulk of strippers wanted nothing more than to provide a life for their families or even just survive.
“Yoshi’s” voice got stronger as she said the final part of her interview. She said these women aren’t strippers. They are entertainers, using what they have left to live. In the beginning of her work there, she went in half heartedly, but soon after started going in knowing that she chose to work there and she knew what she was getting into. She stopped looking at it as a job and began seeing it as an artistic expression where she provides stimulating entertainment to the bars clientele. It’s not a job to her. It’s her second life. Sure, she may hide her identity but when she steps out onto that stage, she knows that the audience is there to see her and she gives her all every single time.