I am getting more and more annoyed
and want to rebel more and more
and get my white shirt and get it wet and walk through the frozen section of the grocery store and say fuck you to everyone that is looking at me funny
Oh God I can't even get into this without becoming extremely enraged.
"You can't be a stripper and a feminist thats contradicting?"
Ok based on who's standards?
What is a feminist?
"Feminism is a collection of movements and ideologies aimed at defining, establishing, and defending equal political, economic, cultural, and social rights for women.[1][2]"
You are definitely losing the point if you think being a stripper and a feminist a contridiciting.
Oh God the idiots that surround me.
Saying I can't be a feminist and a stripper is like saying you can't be Gay and believe in God and Jesus Christ.
Being a feminist can mean different things to different people. YEAH SOME feminists are against SEX WORKERS because they associate it WITH ABUSE AND SEX TRAFFICKING but its not THE SAME THING AT ALL. IF THE CLOSED STRIP CLUBS, I WOULD LOSE MY PRIMARY SOURCE OF INCOME.
IT IS MY JOB.
It's my job to sell a fantasy. It's my job to get these men to forget about their wives and I CHOSE this job as an outlet for my high sexual energy. This is the safest, most benefical and reasonable way for me to do that.
From http://finallyfeminism101.wordpress.com
"Put in the most simple terms, slut-shaming happens when a person “publicly or privately [insults] a woman because she expressed her sexuality in a way that does not conform with patriarchal expectations for women” (Kat, Slut-Shaming vs. Rape Jokes). It is enabled by the idea that a woman who carries the stigma of being a slut — ie. an “out-of-control, trampy female” — is “not worth knowing or caring about” (Tanenbaum, p. 240)."
I just can't handle it anymore.
Women are sexual creatures as are men.
GET THE FUCK OVER IT.
I can express my sexuality in any way I please, as long as I am informed, aware, and HAPPY AND COMFORTABLE WITH WHAT I AM DOING.
EVERYONE ELSE GO TO HELL.
Showing posts with label stripper. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stripper. Show all posts
Saturday, August 23, 2014
Friday, August 1, 2014
I don't know
This isn't a poem. This is a rant.
This is what I am going through. The emptiness in the pit of my stomach being filled by mindless articles of -
clothing,
makeup,
poles,
and fast food.
Yet the hole is never full and I always wonder why I feel like this. I always wonder why don't people see my pain and fall to their knees in disbelief like "how do you endure your own mind"
How do you get rid of yourself? Without getting rid of yourself I mean I want to live.
But not like this.
You know the feeling you get when your on stage and someone comes up with a dollar and you get down on all fours and shake your ass like never before and you slide you shorts down because you need that extra twenty dollars to pay the club so you can leave with enough to pay the minimum on the credit card.
You know that moment when you it's time to leave the club,
and you get one last $20 dance to go towards your house fees,
then that one late joe shows up and wants to do a $200 dollar dance and you cannot refuse even though you have to get up for work in 3 hours -
because you need to pay for that pregnancy test and the rest is necessary to fill the hole if it's positive I mean you ask me where my money is going but it's just going to the pit of my stomach and being shit out and shit on and why is this happening to me because I am still,
not happy.
You know that feeling when all of a sudden your bills are higher and the club is slower and you saw a girl fingering another girl for an extra 10 bucks I mean how does a clean dancer compete against that.
That feeling that you get that you know you don't have to do that. But you wonder,
how they do it?
That feeling when you realize school is about to start and your bills are going up and the girls are getting raunchier and you refuse to measure up and you feel alone and the baby is crying and now he's hungry but you're too tired and so the money leaves your hands and the chicken nuggets hit his mouth and you hate yourself.
What about that feeling when you are happy again but he's not. What about that feeling you get when you realize.
When you realize that you're alone and you know that you will never be understood and your tears are rolling down your face behind the desk but smiling on the stage.
You know that feeling?
This is what I am going through. The emptiness in the pit of my stomach being filled by mindless articles of -
clothing,
makeup,
poles,
and fast food.
Yet the hole is never full and I always wonder why I feel like this. I always wonder why don't people see my pain and fall to their knees in disbelief like "how do you endure your own mind"
How do you get rid of yourself? Without getting rid of yourself I mean I want to live.
But not like this.
You know the feeling you get when your on stage and someone comes up with a dollar and you get down on all fours and shake your ass like never before and you slide you shorts down because you need that extra twenty dollars to pay the club so you can leave with enough to pay the minimum on the credit card.
You know that moment when you it's time to leave the club,
and you get one last $20 dance to go towards your house fees,
then that one late joe shows up and wants to do a $200 dollar dance and you cannot refuse even though you have to get up for work in 3 hours -
because you need to pay for that pregnancy test and the rest is necessary to fill the hole if it's positive I mean you ask me where my money is going but it's just going to the pit of my stomach and being shit out and shit on and why is this happening to me because I am still,
not happy.
You know that feeling when all of a sudden your bills are higher and the club is slower and you saw a girl fingering another girl for an extra 10 bucks I mean how does a clean dancer compete against that.
That feeling that you get that you know you don't have to do that. But you wonder,
how they do it?
That feeling when you realize school is about to start and your bills are going up and the girls are getting raunchier and you refuse to measure up and you feel alone and the baby is crying and now he's hungry but you're too tired and so the money leaves your hands and the chicken nuggets hit his mouth and you hate yourself.
What about that feeling when you are happy again but he's not. What about that feeling you get when you realize.
When you realize that you're alone and you know that you will never be understood and your tears are rolling down your face behind the desk but smiling on the stage.
You know that feeling?
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