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EXTRACTS:
Baby Oil & Ice
founder, International Union of Sex Workers
Previous books and articles about stripping were written by journalists
and academics. What will strike you about this lovely book is that, for
once, at last you
can hear the voices, the unedited words of real live striptease artists
themselves. It is
a treat indeed.
I am a Portuguese student of Anthropology living in London. In order to
fund my PhD I took a job in a phone-sex-line company. I soon became a
sex worker activist and started the International Union of Sex Workers
(IUSW). This has brought me into contact with some absolutely wonderful
characters in this multi million-pound industry. In particular, the strippers
I met were proud, amusing and very sexy. I really admire them. I feel
extremely inspired by this group of creative, adventurous and independent
women.
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My own attempts at
stripping have not got very far (but I persevere by taking lessons). I
have been in a samba band for a few years and recognise the similarity;
samba movements are very provocative and the costumes extremely skimpy.
Both dance forms are a colourful celebration of one's body and sexuality.
Both mean: 'Here I am. I am beautiful. I am not sinful or wrong.'
I also identify with striptease in my phone-sex-line work where every
word is carefully crafted to extract money out of the customer. It is
similar to the striptease dance: the tease, the fantasy making.
I know all about the social stigma that accompanies sex workers. The women
in this book and most sex workers I have met choose their careers yet
have to defend their work against the moral opinions of our time.
Some feminists claim that strippers' work, or any other type of sex work
even sex itself is immoral. The women in the sex trade are
labelled traitors because they allow themselves to be denigrated. On the
other hand, many of us feel empowered by sexual art forms. This does not
seem to clash with feminism.
Many of us choose to work in the sex industry in order to liberate ourselves
and affirm our sexual identity. As I've found with phone-sex, many striptease
dancers find that working in this industry has increased their personal
strength. We are constantly admired and adored, which makes us feel beautiful
and powerful. Plus, just working in the sex industry can be a thrill
defying traditional mores and the social roles imposed on us and daring
to be sexually assertive and to live our sexuality to the full.
Stigmatisation and censorship were born of legislation. In 1953, Lord
Chamberlain banned 'any performance commonly known as striptease'. Thus,
shows were driven underground and took place in private member clubs.
These flourished in Soho until 1968 when the Labour Government lifted
the restrictions. Nowadays, pubs and clubs are licensed, but there is
no agreement between the local authorities on what should be allowed.
The enigmatic world of the sex industry is regarded with a mix of fear
and fascination; those who work in it are simultaneously vilified and
romanticised. But striptease is, and isn't, a job like any other; workers
need to be tough enough to deal with the difficult and unfair working
conditions that abound in the sex industry, mainly due to unfair legislation,
a lack of labour rights and stigmatising social attitudes. The IUSW aims
to get the laws clarified and eventually removed. We aim to raise working
conditions and reach a position where sex work is not stigmatised.
We started in March 2000 as a small coalition supporting a strike in Soho
where sex workers were being evicted from their work places by the local
council. We created a Carnival Parade through the streets; me in the samba
band, and strippers, prostitutes, sex therapists and all of our supporters
dancing along.
Since that night we have achieved what seemed impossible. We have established
a Sex Workers' Branch within the GMB trades union, the third biggest union
in the country. This happened in March 2002, only two years after our
first action. This is sex workers' power. We are establishing sex work
as legitimate work. Sex workers including porn stars and escorts,
rent boys and lap dancers are using their political consciousness,
collecting together to support each other.
There is, of course, an old antecedent in the world of stripping: Gypsy
Rose Lee who organised a union for burlesque artists in America in 1951.
In San Francisco exotic dancers at the Lusty Lady club have unionised,
and sex workers in Australia and the Netherlands enjoy full union representation.
But never before has it happened in Britain and we are optimistic that
belonging to a union will bring about the decriminalisation of prostitution
and bring autonomy to all sex workers.
Historically the striptease industry has always attracted strong women.
Vocal strippers are not a rarity but are in fact the norm. If you enter
any strip pub you will come across a cacophony of different female voices
and attitudes. Baby Oil and Ice allows you in to this environment so that
you can see and hear for yourself. Women who choose to strip for a living
are often judged by society as passive victims, drug addicts or bimbos.
This book gives you a chance to judge for yourself and the results are
not what one would necessarily expect. Enjoy.
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I see myself walk slowly as I have learned to do, shifting my weight
from one hip to the other, making myself move provocatively. I pour just
enough soul into the mould of this image to give it life and movement
- the image of the forever unobtainable.
A quick glance around through the smoky air and there they are, their
jaded-vulture eyes some arrogant, some generous, some mocking and
some benevolent - but none see me.
I find my power spot, it lies beyond their fantasies; the exchange of
energy will be good here. The stiffness in my legs begins to wear off
as I move. I feel the music in the lower regions of my body; it is my
wand and my cloak.
And now as I find myself alone, the only woman in this circle of hungry,
impoverished masculinity, all vestiges of my everyday self are covered
as I start to disrobe and become the Scarlet Woman.
I am the Scarlet Woman, the alchemist who tries time and time again
to turn base desire into pure gold. Me and my kind are ancient. We dare
to walk the borderlands and to explore the many levels and realms of
the subconscious.
I single out one of them, the punters fag, pint and dirty cardigan.
I slide my glamour across the floor till I am swaying above him. Unwittingly
I stumble through his gaze and into the futility of us being here. This
saddens me, but#$ we are here and so I remove the straps from my dress
revealing both nipples. It seems some basic imprinting of the breast has
left our punter with the memory of a time when a womans love was
unconditional. A time when the money didnt run out.
All this in a flash, and our Salome turns herself on and around and pulls
the dress over her ass and further to reveal the mystery that they long
to penetrate.
Web spun, snake-oil spilt, and out of ankle bondage, she stretches sky-clad
towards the heavens, unaware of anything but her own divinity.
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