Guest opinion: The art of loving what you do

As broke college students, there isn’t a lot we won’t do for cash. From cleaning up after our peers at the EMU to standing for tedious hours at the mercy of a grocery scanning mecha-lord at Safeway (like me)—you name it, we’d probably do it.

It’s not often we find students who can actually say that they love what they do to pay their bills. So when I discovered that one of my past classmates had found something she loved, though shunned by many, I was delighted by the rarity and began interviewing her. She prefers to remain anonymous, however, so we will call her by her alter ego, “Victory.”

Victory, 19, anxiously walked into the shady-looking brick building scattered with poles, seats and nude women. Having made it this far and having already purchased the signature 5-inch stripper heels, she had no intentions of turning back. She boldly sat down, answered some questions and filled out a few forms. Before she knew it, “Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger” by Daft Punk was playing, and she was shyly disrobing her pink and black undergarments for an audience of two.

She remembers thinking “I really have no idea what I’m doing,” as she was giving a lap dance—but whatever she did worked out well.

In her first night as an exotic dancer, working from 4 p.m. to 3 a.m., Victory raked in more than $200.

“That night was surreal,” she recalled.

With four months of experience under her belt, Victory is now nothing short of an artist. Exotic dancing is physically demanding; it takes serious talent to do the tricks they pull off—and there are a ton of them.

“Every move has a different name—it’s like skateboarding,” she said.

Victory spoke of several maneuvers, including the Inverted Helicopter, the Superman, the Gemini and the Wizard of Oz. She can do a lot of these tricks, and she has even purchased a stripper pole at her house to practice on.

“I just work really, really hard,” she said. She estimates her income to be a whopping $2,500 a month (Hell, for $2,500 a month, I might even break out the man-thong and fireman’s hat. Name suggestions anyone?)

Though she spends nights raking in dollar bills and performing insane pole maneuvers, Victory takes the form of a math and reading tutor and aspiring digital arts major at the University by day. She doesn’t know exactly where digital arts will take her—she just does what she loves.

“It’s kinda badass,” she said regarding her seductive alter ego. “It’s like being Superman.”

Nobody knew about her secret identity until her roommates grew suspicious of her always coming home late. When she finally told them, they were OK with it, so she’s been a bit more open about it — even telling her mother recently.

“It’s like being gay and coming out,” she said.

Though she enjoys what she does, there are times when she doesn’t feel right: nights where men would try to short her money, nights where 40-year-olds would perpetually pursue a date with her and nights riddled with creepy regulars who make her feel uncomfortable.

Not only can it be discomforting, but stripping also puts her under some heavy stereotypes and misconceptions. It’s easy to see how exotic dancing perpetuates misogyny, but Victory says that you can be both a stripper and a feminist.

Yeah, I know, it sounds ridiculous.

On her first day working, a customer resembling the Big Lebowski, with his hair in a smooth ponytail, made Victory feel a lot more comfortable about her job when he told her that no matter what, she is in control.

To Victory, it’s not about being at the mercy of the male—it’s about her doing whatever she is comfortable with to get them to pay her money for it. If she doesn’t like the way a man is treating her, or if he gets too touchy-feely, she can stop at any point. In fact, there are some strippers at her place who don’t even get naked.

A group of churchgoers came into her club on Valentine’s Day handing dancers flowers and telling them that Jesus forgives them for their sins. They felt bad for the dancers.

Some don’t feel bad—they just get mad. Seeing these women as used, forced into their situations, or synonymous with prostitutes, her job title might leave her susceptible to offensive names such as whore or slut.

“[Women] are contributing to the recycling of sexism by calling girls sluts,” Victory said on the subject.

She’s had girls who knew she was a stripper see her at parties and commend her for being capable of showing her body in that fashion.

Say what you want about her job, but she loves what she does and that’s what matters.

As I sleepily bash products into plastic bags, rehashing the same lines over and over, I often imagine being paid to do something I love instead. But most of us don’t get that luxury until we graduate, and many of us never will. Yet we will continue to assault people like Victory, who are fortunate enough to do something they enjoy—and we will call her dumb for keeping a job she loves—because it is a social taboo.

“I made $500 one night, and $350 the night before. If that makes me dumb, whatever,” she said.

*This article originally appeared in the Daily Emerald. It appears here in its original form.