“Students who strip”
Special to the Toronto Star, Feb. 24, 2004,
C1
The brainy babe: By
now, you've heard the myth of the sexy
student who dances for fun and titillation
and manages to pay for law school at the
same time.
But in reality, after talking with student
strippers around the GTA, it appears few
students who begin stripping to pay for
tuition are able to keep from becoming
addicted to the underworld lifestyle.
The women we talked to for this story
estimate that about 20 to 30 per cent of
strippers are students. And the women also
consistently agree that stripping nudges
studying off students' timetables as they
fall prey to the fast money, easy drugs,
flexible hours and endless attention.
Toronto-born and raised "Andrea," 27,
stopped stripping only after a minivan
struck her and she injured her leg last
October. She asks that her real and stage
names are not used because she has stripped
illegally in San Francisco and Miami.
She started when she was 19, at the
suggestion of a friend. At first, Andrea, a
blue-eyed blonde rejected the idea because
it seemed "seedy and taboo."
But when she saw someone make $400 in two
hours, she decided to strip temporarily -
just until she was accepted into theatre
school. But temporary turned into seven
years, off and on. During that stretch
Andrea entered three different
post-secondary programs and each time she
left after a few months and went back to
stripping.
"Paul," a Toronto strip club DJ who has been
in the business for 15 years, e-mails that
he has known many students who began
stripping to pay for tuition but "very few
were serious about it. ... most do it
because it's the non-stop party for girls
with low self-esteem and the large amounts
of money they can make. Out of 15 years
doing this and watching over these girls,
maybe a dozen of them made it and never
looked back."
Andrea fits the description - at least the
first part.
For the first time in her life, the money
was pouring in when she started stripping,
she remembers.
For a 19-year-old who had made not much more
than minimum wage at a coffee shop during
high school, the money was a draw.
"I didn't have to wait until Tuesday to go
see a movie," she explains.
But more importantly, she could buy as much
straight vodka as she could guzzle in order
to numb her fear and insecurities before
every shift.
Eventually Andrea became an alcoholic. But
she lived the life of a jetsetter, working
in San Francisco and partying in New York.
She even lived in Vancouver and flew to San
Fran to work. There were nights she made
over $1,000 U.S.
By the time she turned 20 and began studying
in Vancouver, she hated it. She lasted only
four months at school.
Fast-forward to age 23 and Andrea was
regularly drinking and doing a variety of
drugs, including crystal, speed, ephedra,
ecstasy and cocaine.
She began doing drugs heavily around the
same time that lap dancing became legal, she
recalls. She hated being touched and she
sought solace by numbing herself.
Eventually, she became addicted to cocaine.
By then, she couldn't quit stripping even
though she wanted to - she needed the money
to feed her habit.
Andrea has since decided to sober up and she
works as a temp receptionist in downtown
Toronto.
After she was hit by the minivan, she says
she "realized my life sucks."
But she is hopeful. She still wants to enter
university. She ticks off possible careers:
psychiatrist, therapist, radio broadcaster,
journalist or teacher.
Students may start off focused to make money
for tuition, says Andrea, but "they can lose
that focus quickly."
But there are those who argue it is possible
to study and strip. Stripping can be an
ideal job for students because the hours are
flexible, says Mary Taylor, an exotic dancer
who left the business in 1997 after having
stripped for 21 years.
"How much fun is (it) grinding on all these
guys' laps all day long? (Exotic dancers)
must certainly be doing it for the money,"
she says.
But even Taylor warns that students can be
easily "suckered in by the money and the
freedom that the job offers."
"What happens is you go in with good
intentions," she explains. Then students
start missing classes because they are too
tired from a late night's work and it's easy
to drop out.
Ryerson journalism student June Morrow says
she had a love hate relationship with
stripping.
She was 22 when she finished her college
diploma in business administration in
Ottawa.
She had broken up with her boyfriend and
lost a lot of weight. She noticed a job ad
for young women without experience, so she
headed out to a strip club and tried it one
night when her parents were away.
And she loved it.
"Being on stage was really liberating ... I
never got it out of my mind," says Morrow.
A few years and one divorce later, she was
looking for a change and quick money to do
some travelling.
She came to Toronto and danced on and off
for six years at joints like Zanzibar,
Charlie T's, the Brass Rail, Filmore's and
Caddy's.
She also finished a bachelor's degree in
arts through distance education from the
University of Waterloo.
But for Morrow, "tuition became an excuse
... I loved the attention, I'm a natural
performer so that was awesome." So she
didn't stop when she finished her degree.
A cash-in-hand income where you make your
own hours can be addictive, she says. On a
bad day, she made $20, on a good day up to
$400 dollars.
But, like the other strippers, Morrow, now
33, warns: "You are at a real risk of losing
yourself to this industry, it has a way of
sucking you in."
She says her ego craved the constant
attention from men who fawned, "You're so
pretty, you're so smart, you're not like the
other girls."
But, she says, "If you start taking it too
seriously you're going to get screwed up."
She realized this when she quit stripping
two years ago, before she started her
journalism degree. She saved enough to pay
for tuition and living expenses and hasn't
been in a strip club since.
But for every woman who decides to quit,
another takes her place. "Dakota," a slim
woman with tattoos and strawberry-red bra
and panties is at work one winter afternoon.
She has long dark hair, fair skin and a
sweet smile. Dakota is her stage name.
She looks about 25 tops. But at 32, she is
an artist who graduated from the Sheridan
College illustration program a few years
ago, just missing the digital revolution.
She is currently enrolled at George Brown
and has been dancing for about four years.
Dakota recently put on a show of 24
paintings with the Come as You Are sex
store. They are meant to illustrate the
dynamics, sexual politics and tensions
between clients and dancers.
She works the downtown club circuit. One of
the clubs, which she asks not to be
revealed, has both medicine and law
students. Most students don't work the clubs
near their schools, she says. On a good day
she makes up to $500 cash. But the pay is
unstable and tips and clients dwindle in the
winter.
It's dark inside the downtown Toronto strip
club. The large room is lit up with rotating
disco lights and a pulsating red glow. At 3:
30 p.m., there are only about five men
hanging around.
A sign in the ladies' washroom reminds
dancers to keep away from drugs or face
dismissal. But the air freshener doesn't
mask the scent of a recently smoked joint.
Dakota began working as an art therapist
when she finished school, among other jobs,
but, "I have a hard time conforming to
social norms," she says, "particularly the
Christian model of performing in the
workplace."
If strip clubs weren't stigmatized, perhaps
Dakota wouldn't need to keep her work from
her religious parents. And she wouldn't have
gaps in her resume because she would be able
to list her dancing experience instead of
deleting it.
Mary Taylor says exotic dancers "have a lot
of talent in different areas, marketing,
sales people, customer relations" but
unfortunately many do not include their
dancing experience on their resumes.
"(The job) takes a great deal of courage,"
says Dakota. "It can be pretty terrifying
and deserves a bit more respect."
Katzman Enterprises, which operates a chain
of strip clubs in Windsor and Detroit, has
been recruiting strippers for about 10 years
now by offering to pay a portion of their
tuition, according to a CNN report. It
recently placed ads in the Lance, the
University of Windsor newspaper, promising
to pay tuition. Adult club owner Robert
Katzman told CNN that, "A girl who wants to
better herself, who wants to progress, makes
for a higher level entertainer,"
As of September, about 20 women were taking
advantage of the deal.
Dakota says Katzman Enterprises' offer seems
generous. "I am only here out of financial
necessity," she says, "If I had a choice I
would be pursuing my real career."