Less spin more skin
February 18, 2010 12:52 PM
I was recently afforded the opportunity to take a trip to Halifax to attend the “Everything to do with Sex Show” at the Cunard Center. Besides the abundance of middle-aged couples who would consistently push in front of us as we watched demonstrations, (which was more a charming affirming to the longevity of our sex lives than anything,) the most thought provoking part was the male strippers we saw.
The show started with a booming voice announcing to the convention that all the “ladies” should move towards the main stage to be tantalized and teased by the writhing bodies of greased up men. As we moved towards the stage, the voice continued to encourage the crowd to cheer.
The strippers were two gentlemen from Northern Exposure Men, and according to the press release: “[These] dancers and entertainers have chiseled bodies, and dance with charisma, tons of energy and a playful attitude. Do not miss their lanky, perfectly sculpted bodies that instantly command attention.”
Disclaimers should be issued that either the author of that summary had never set eyes on these men, or had no sweet clue what lanky means. Both “The Italian Stallion” and “The Bedroom Punisher, aka Assassin” were very much ripped (for a lack of a better word), a fact highlighted by the immense amounts of Vaseline that had clearly been slathered over their bodies before they entered stage right.
Now I really can’t complain about muscular men taking off their clothing; there is nothing all that wrong with that. What did grate at my nerves was the nature of their performance. Most female strippers will take on some form of roll-play, moreso if they are purposefully theme-oriented, but these men took the theme to a whole new level in every aspect of their performance.
Both men wore prosthetic dicks under their pants until the end of their routines. The Assassin’s in particular was larger than any other phallus found in nature, so much so that it curled awkwardly over his thigh; in was, in one word, terrifying.
Both men came onstage in costume. “The Italian Stallion” chose an all-white sailor uniform, and promptly ripped it off hulk-style. The Assassin on the other hand wore shiny black chaps and an odd little shirt that had one sleeve and an endlessly confusing array of straps; he was reminiscent, as one of my friends stated, of a cross between a cowboy and the Matrix’s Morpheus.
They also lip-synched. Yes, the strippers lip-synched, giving the performance a distinctly burlesque feel.
While this would have been acceptable to some degree, when lyrics being pantomimed included lines like “I wanna be your boyfriend” I couldn’t help but laugh. To be very frank, honey, I don’t care if you want to be my boyfriend, I have no deep desire to be your girlfriend, and really we just came to see you take off your clothes.
I make no assertion at being an expert on stripping or strippers; personally I often have trouble keeping my balance while wrestling my socks off. But these men really did have amazing bodies, and were very talented dancers (a fact that came through even through the charades they insisted on maintaining).
The politics of stripping are complex and in my opinion should always be addressed within a specific context; I personally do not feel experienced enough in the area to address the moral dilemmas stripping brings about. I do however feel that the double standard of male vs. female strippers is something to be addressed.
At one point, when I started commenting on how the lip-synching seemed to be outnumbering the removal of clothing, a male friend turned to me and explained that “that’s what girls want,” with a look in his eye that showed he knew exactly who he was talking to.
Upon my asking him to elaborate on what exactly girls wanted from their strippers, and how lip-synching provided it, he explained that these strippers were catering to the need of all women to have a back-story and romance involved when clothes were hitting the floor.
Call me crazy but mimed oral sex, costumes and romantic songs don’t really turn me on to strange men onstage. Chances are most women there were not looking to be courted by a stripper wearing a fake penis.
My limited experience with strippers has so far been that routines quite accurately reflect stereotypes surrounding what it takes to get the opposite sex in bed.
So female strippers wear nothing, call themselves Candi and writhe around poles while male observers chat and nurse beers; male strippers on the other hand pantomime romance and affection to women who are encouraged to shriek and swoon. Is this not slightly insulting to both sexes?
There are plenty of men who look for some degree of personality in their sexual objects of affection, as well as plenty of women who would love the act to be dropped, and the clothes to start dropping more quickly.
Essentially what is being implied is that women cannot enjoy eroticism for the sake of eroticism, an assumption that causes considerable issues in our society.
The assumption that women’s sexuality is a prize to be sought after, to be won while they resist, is a mindset that results in sex to be treated as a commodity rather than a shared experience.
The model of “he gets some” while she “gives it away” is an oversimplification that clearly has residual effects far-reaching enough to affect strippers. I think we’re getting “fucking” mixed up with “making love,” and assuming that individuals can only have it one way. I don’t mean to take away from the talent of these gentlemen; they certainly had talent (in more than one way). After all, they are also engaging in an industry with certain norms and expectations; I would however like to see these expectations questioned. A healthy dose of variety is all we ask in life, and strippers.
