Consent Is Difficult For Me As A Sex Worker

Every work robs you of some of your freedom. To make a living, we give up our personal time, our bodies, and sometimes our health and happiness. It is, as they say, a necessary part of life.

But it's critical that we recognize what we're giving up in order to generate money. Is the job demanding? Dangerous? Is it a long-term commitment?

Is it really worth it?

When we accept a job offer, we agree to the job obligations and working circumstances.

In exchange for money, we give up personal time and, in certain cases, our health and well-being. Even if we make concessions, we still have the capacity to create and enforce work boundaries. We have the ability to say no to extra responsibilities, terrible working circumstances, and unwelcome work relationships, to name a few examples. Work does not take away our ability to give consent.

Consent is a simple agreement between two persons to engage in a sexual or labor transaction that is intimate, emotional, and/or sexual. It can be expressed in a variety of ways: excitedly, matter-of-factly, timidly, or silently. The trade can be desired or unwelcome, paid or unpaid, but consent must be provided freely and without force or pressure.

Yes, it's simple, but consent is often disregarded in the workplace. Waitresses have little say in who they serve and are unable to walk away from guests who are abusive or unpleasant. Over the phone, call center representatives must listen to hateful remarks being shouted at them. Until you get into their car, rideshare drivers have no idea where you're going. Miners must dig deeper into the ground and scrape away at silicone dust, putting their lungs at risk.

It's unclear how much power people have in these workplaces.

Those who have the privilege of having a voice at work must occasionally make sacrifices as well. To get ahead, people may take on unwelcome responsibilities or put up with poisonous work relationships.

Working at strip clubs has forced me to make difficult decisions as well. But, fortunately for me, I have a voice in the circumstances.

I was adamant about resolving boundary violations during lap dances when I first started stripping. "Stop!" I yelled sharply as I smacked hands away from my thong. "You're not going to be able to do it." If they tugged my hair or slapped my arse, I ended the dance.

Every night, I reveled in the power of asserting my boundaries. It was great to be able to set the parameters for someone else's proximity to my comfort zones. How many additional jobs do you believe you have the authority to refuse?

As a sex worker, our ability to create and enforce boundaries with customers influences both our financial and emotional well-being.

It is one of, if not the most significant, factors for success in any job. However, learning how to handle consent in an invisible industry — one that includes emotional, physical, and sexual work — was initially tough. The club welcomes both good and bad customers, and there is no instruction book on how to separate the safe from the hazards.

Because boundaries and permission are rarely mentioned in locker rooms, I had to learn how to navigate the club securely in the dark, both metaphorically and literally.

When I first started stripping, I was 24 years old, and I was adamant about my boundaries. In the club, my voice could be heard clearly. However, after a few months on the job, I observed a pattern in my client contacts. The buyer almost never bought another dance after my verbal "no," "stop," or "I don't like that."

This didn't bother me at first because I was just getting my feet wet in the field, but as the prospect of paying off my student debt loomed, I began to wonder how I could make more money. I envied the club's big earners, who could make my weekly pay in a single night's work.

The women never seemed out of control, despite the fact that they rarely expressed vocal agreement. It was a perplexing situation.

I discovered via close observation and persistent queries that when there was a chance to make a lot of money, they communicated their boundaries and the club's regulations non-verbally. Customers' hands were transferred from their boobs to their backsides, for example, if they didn't want them near their chest — or their attention was diverted through serious conversation or funny entertainment if the customer was too handsy.

And, perhaps most crucially, they never deviated from their roles as sexually accessible women.

Strippers market themselves as wild, sexually promiscuous women. They are the anti-wife, the madonna's whore. Of course, this is a performance - but it's a very lucrative one. My earnings are exactly proportional to how overtly sexual I am.

However, asserting a "no" breaks the illusion and halts the flow of funds. When I verbally enforce my boundaries with some customers — not all, but some — I am no longer one of the carefree, sexually liberated ladies swinging freely from poles. My high heels, make-up, and curls vanish. I take on the form of reality.

After a few months, I began to realize this, but I didn't want to risk my safety by pushing beyond my boundaries. The dancers I observed, on the other hand, did not appear to be willing to put their bodies on the line for money. To maintain their agency, they used a coded approach to get around vocal no's.

When the opportunity for money was present, I followed their lead and began signaling agreement non-verbally, all the while remaining in character as a stripper. It was successful. I began to make more money as a result of this method, which I now use frequently.

I pulled a young man back into a private area last night for a $20 three-minute dance. It was 9:10 p.m., and I had only been on the job for 10 minutes. Outside the room, a bouncer sat, while my manager sat behind a camera, watching the dance.

If something went wrong, I had a back-up plan. I sat him down and began the dance, gently and intimately pressing towards him and straddling his legs. He gripped my cheeks with both hands from behind me. I wiggled away from his touch, getting up to pick up our drinks and distracting him for a time.

When I resumed the dance, he went for my ass again, grabbing it as if it were play dough. He was injuring me, testing my boundaries, and instilling dread of attack and censure; the bouncer would rush to my aid, but it would ultimately be seen as my fault for failing to control my customer.

I have two options here: I can urge him to stop or I can direct his attention elsewhere.

I got to my feet and swiftly drew the curtain aside to observe the throng. The club was mostly empty, save for a few fruitless regulars.

I had the opportunity to make money in the next hour right in front of my eyes. Will he, however, purchase another dance? I go over a list of traits in my thoughts that I've compiled over the past two years: he arrived to the club alone; he obtained the first dance without much difficulty; he enjoys my company. Will he increase his spending? Yes, I believe so. Another thing I think about is how much emotional intimacy he expects. There isn't much.

I went with the latter option.

"Would you like to have a little more fun?"

He nodded and handed me $60 from his pocket. He's a spender, as I predicted. I'm better prepared this time as I straddle him. I bring his hands closer to my hips while I slide his hands to my outer back. "I like it gentler," I mutter seductively into his ear as his fingers claw at my flesh. He lets go of his grip. He begins massaging my lower back, a secure zone, and whether consciously or not, he recognizes that this is what I am comfortable with.

When the third song is finished, I don't want to hear anything else. Despite the fact that he may be a gold mine, I had a 7-hour shift ahead of me. Setting and enforcing limits is exhausting, and while he listened to my cues, I'm not confident he'll stick to them for more than an hour or two. I'm going to put an end to our time together. I joyfully accept a $40 tip from him.

I made $100 in 15 minutes while staying within my comfort zone. Despite the fact that our relationship was non-verbal, I was able to keep it safe and profitable.

When there's money on the table, I use nonverbal permission to indicate my limits. It gives me control over my work environment and other aspects of the club. My shift began on a peaceful note. I figured that if I made enough money by 2 a.m., I could go home and sleep. But if I hadn't expected him to spend, I would have told him to "stop" or ended the dance. In that scenario, I have nothing to fear.

I worked six days last month. I was unable to attend the club due to family duties, therefore it was critical that I earn money when I did work. I went to the club at the end of the month full of optimism and hope, but by 1 a.m., I had only made $60.

I was about to leave, frustrated, when I noticed an eager customer standing idle at the bar. He paid $100 for five dances up ahead. I grinned with relief, but after a few minutes, I realized this would not be an easy interaction.

He snatched my hand, licked it, and attempted to pick me up. I tried the non-verbal permission method, but it didn't work for me. I examined the pros and cons of my options. I could stop dancing, but if I continued and earned enough money, I wouldn't have to worry about paying my bills for a while. But I didn't want to take the chance of being assaulted.

Although the bouncer is close by, a finger violation can occur quickly, so I planned a new strategy.

I stepped out of the room and touched the bouncer on the shoulder. I nodded to reassure him that I was fine, but I took advantage of his brief stay to continue our conversation cautiously and profitably. "We have to behave," I said, gripping my customer's hands. I'm going to fire you and you're going to get kicked out!" Of course, we've made a mistake; I haven't done anything wrong.

However, it allows me to express my boundaries without exposing flaws in my character's performance. We say, "I want it as much as you do."

I let go of his grip. For the last ten minutes of our time together, he kept them by his sides. He went on to buy another ten for $200, and then another ten after that. He began to lick and grip again after a half-hour. I sat down next to him and gave him a friendly slap while winking. "You've been so mischievous!" "But the bouncer is watching," I said conspiratorially in his ear.

He put down his clutching hand.

Our hour-and-a-half together was awkward, irritating, and taxing, but not in any way illegal. For monetary gain, I chose to engage in an unpleasant intimate relationship. I wasn't deceived into it, nor was I pressured or coerced into it, therefore I kept my autonomy.

Unwanted labor is a difficult decision, but it's one that individuals make every day, from the office to the mine to the strip club.

But there are instances when I don't have the resources to plan out numerous ways to explain my boundaries. Some clubs don't have bouncers who interfere, and I don't always have the mental strength to protect myself in lap dances, even at safe places.

In those situations, I separate the customers at the bar by deciphering the details of our conversations: Are they invading my personal space? Are they curious in my interests? Do they have a job where they have to persuade people to do what they want? All of these things indicate whether or not they will respect my boundaries.

Usually, the selection is correct. On certain occasions, I dance for customers who don't have such rigid madonna/whore complexes and ask, "What are the rules?" Customers who realize that money is not a kind of consent, and that no amount of money can grant unlimited access to my body. My work here is pleasurable, and I treasure our closeness. And I'm grateful for the ability to chose my clientele, which is a luxury not afforded to workers in other fields.

When I don't make the appropriate choice, my voice is loud and firm. As I go away, I don't stutter. Yes, I lose money, but the "NO" is necessary for my health. For me, it is the most empowering component of the sex industry. I'm no longer afraid to say what I want outside of the club, either.

I like to take a bath when I return home, no matter how exhausted I am or how early in the morning it is, to feel the relief of the warm water on my body and begin to recuperate from the exhausting night. Stripping is not for the faint of heart - it's a demanding job that comes with the added dangers of being a woman and a sex worker. The intricacies of club consent are proof of this.

I wish I could go back in time and be that naive stripper who always said "NO!" but it's a work decision I'm ready to make for professional growth.

Nonverbal consent is a nice compromise. It keeps me afloat in the business; it's my life jacket that gets me home safely every night.

It also teaches my customers to pay attention to nonverbal clues and reminds them that my body and spirit aren't there to be exploited.

Consent, in all of its manifestations, is the stream that allows me to dance with dignity.