This Happened To Me, Life
Please, Do Not Judge Me Harshly; I Used To Be An Exotic Dancer
By answering the Five W’s, I am Moving Forward; My Past Does Not Define Me!
Fact: We all have a past! Some decisions are good, others bad, but everyone has a history. Women, especially, have difficulty getting ahead when anything is perceived as questionable, and lagging. I am no different, but I refuse to live in shame. I once worked as an exotic dancer, which is a harsh revelation for some, but please remember that my previous decisions do not define me.
This article responds to The April prompt collaboration featuring Donnette Anglin and Yana Bostongirl.
About a week ago, I received a reply to a comment on another writer’s post. I had left a response, saying how part of their piece took me back in time to the days when I was a dancer. The other writer replied, mentioning how ballet must have been strenuous or something to that effect. In all fairness, the writer does not know me personally, so perhaps a reasonable assumption.
Part of me wanted to follow up with a correction, but I did not. The only thought that kept repeatedly playing in my mind was, “What if I lose their respect!” 😌
For the next day or so, I felt inadequate. Of course, my days as an exotic dancer are behind me, but I have never been ashamed, so why did I begin to feel like I had a dark circle hovering over me? I am a writer now, hoping for a fruitful future, yet somewhere in my mind, I thought my past would come back to bite me, making me appear tainted; ingenuine.
The universe must have heard my inner cries for help because not long after, I read about April’s prompt featured in one of Yana’s articles, “Does Your Past Define You?”
No, it doesn’t, and I am working it all out now to move forward…
Answering the curious 5 W’s
Humans are naturally curious beings; we want to know the Who, What, When, Where, And Why! Okay, perhaps especially the Why! 😏
These five w’s kept rambling around in my head, prompting a deeper look into myself and the added benefit of answering questions of all inquiring minds. I will admit, this is the first time peeling back the layers. However, in doing so, I am releasing the lingering effects of shame and guilt that I never before addressed. For example, I suppose I never considered my past employment as an exotic dancer until a recent moment popped up, triggering embarrassment.
- Who- Me, of course, who took on a stage name as an alternate persona. I will not reveal the name other than it began with “D.” While working at the strip club (I have to call it for what it is), I performed as my alter ego. When the club lights dimmed, and the doors closed, I went back to me; Marilyn.
- What- Exotic dancer, stripper, go-go girl, adult entertainer-you get it! But, for goodness sake, do not confuse the term with a sex worker or prostitute; they are not the same, and I did not engage in those sorts of things.
- When- During the mid to late ’90s, concluding in the early 2000s. I began dancing when I was 25 and stopped after turning 30.
- Where- I traveled the dance circuit in the tri-state region before finding my home club in upstate New York, working as a regularly scheduled dancer, also known as a “house girl.”
- Why- Yes, the all-important why- There is no one answer here, and I will tell you that one of my answers has helped me close a door from my past, one that I mistakingly thought I shut behind me.
My exotic dancer days began as a dare from friends. On a couple of Fridays each month, I would go dancing, enjoying the ’90s club scene. I was a single mother of two small girls, so as a group, my companions and I would set up suitable childcare so we “moms” s could kick back for a bit of free time.
I used to catch the attention of strangers and pals alike while dancing. I was skilled with previous experience as a child gymnast. I recall the notorious “dare” while spending time at a local club favorite; hence, the dancing days began.
As previously mentioned, I was a single mother of two small girls, ages four and two. Perhaps it may sound unethical to some, but part of my motivation was the future-income potential of working as a stripper. My young daughter’s father and I married after the birth of our first daughter. Unfortunately, due to his drug and alcohol addiction struggles, we split when my youngest was a baby, leaving me solely to provide for a two and three-month-old.
On a sadder, more personal note, I danced to physically work out my depression and dismay of my failed relationship/marriage. In addition to substance abuse, my ex had a secret life. He was bisexual, which I had no idea about until I found out he was having an affair. It turns out that the man who broke the awful news to me about a girl my ex hung out with is, indeed, the man he cheated on me with at the beginning of our relationship.
Yes, that is a lot to deal with; imagine how I felt!
So, yeah, as a person who has embraced physical fitness her entire life, I worked 60 hours a week as a stripper. However, I don’t think I ultimately realized the whole “WHY” to my situation, or at least openly admitted it, until now. My third reason for becoming an exotic dancer was to work through my feelings after a horrible breakup.
Flashing forward, I have been away from the world of adult entertainment for twenty years. After, I spent nearly two decades employed in the hospitality industry, working from the bottom into management serving travelers. My chosen career field has become a bit of a family affair with all of my daughters working in hospitality; my oldest, a hotel general manager trying to climb up to the district level.
Today, I write, edit, and am a student. I have a passion for people and enjoy sharing personal stories that range from funny and quirky to downright painful and ugly. I hope to bring peace where needed and insight to anyone going through similar circumstances.
The world is hard enough to navigate, finding one’s way without outside judgment. Sometimes we succeed, and other times we fall flat on our faces. Sometimes we make the correct choices, and other times, we get it all wrong. Perhaps even worse than the judgment of others is the harsh reality of poorly judging oneself. What matters is right here and now. Simple: my past does not define who I am today. There is liberty in this notion; finally, I can cut myself some slack and let it all go! 🥰
This article is dedicated to women everywhere- never live in shame, never move forward in fear! 💪
Thanks for reading-Marilyn