The second part of our series that takes an honest look behind the scenes into what actually happens within the confines of a strip club. In case you missed the first entry, it can be found here.
Today’s entry takes a look at the club from a manager’s perspective. This portion is lengthy, but is the one that I found most interesting.
-Lee
The Manager’s Role
As far as female employees in adult entertainment nightclubs, everyone you hire you treat as a potential dancer. It really doesn’t matter if she’s hired as a waitress, hostess, or even a bartender.
First, you must make the girl feel at home in an environment that is so abnormal that most people have to be made comfortable. In fact, you could almost say they have to be “hardened’ to the club life. This is easily accomplished by working there as many hours as possible and by having all of the staff treat them as if they were long lost friends. It’s important for the management to do this also.
Second, after a few weeks, because the girl is now your friend, as a manager you bring up how short you are on girls that night or how short the amateur contestants are. You ask them to please help, that they don’t need to take their clothes off, but the club just needs an extra body. Usually, they happily agree to do this. You then have them change into dancing attire, usually a skimpy dress, a teddy, g-string or a t-bar (which is a very small pair of panties). Often, the girls, having become used to the environment and having seen nudity daily are intoxicated with the sense of being on stage and are lured out of their clothing by the other girls, customers, and promises of large tips.
Now, at this point, the manager’s job just starts. But, if the girl has not taken her clothes off, the manager again has to start in on her about needing more help on the floor. Again, most of the girls will agree to help the manager out. At this time, you tell them that things are not that busy, and you take them out for dinner, “my treat.” Of course, the club lways writes this off! So, you go out, have some drinks and small talk with the girl. Returning to the club she now believes that you’re good friends, plus she is under the influence of alcohol. At this point, she easily disrobes at the customer’s request, with the other girls welcoming a new dancer into their ranks. The experienced dancers will then go on about how beautiful she is and how much money she’ll make.
Of course, even now, she still might have not disrobed. But, by this point, you are her friend and can make her feel guilty about not helping out more and ask her to please disrobe, as without her, you’ll not make much money that night. She is needed. People who need her and customers who tell her how beautiful she is surround her.
She now experiences a variety of emotions and, being human, needs to be needed. With this emotion fulfilled, she finds herself wanting to be complemented, which she is, and she wants to make money, which she can. You then play on the “what more can a girl want?” and the subject of self-worth never really comes up.
At this point, if she still has not disrobed, you let her know you no longer need her for her position, but dancing is open if she wishes to still work at the club. This does not work unless she has incurred debts and needs the money, or she actually enjoyed the experience and doesn’t want to lose her new friends. If she stays, the manager must start training her to be a professional. This means changing almost everything about her including her personality; she must now be a passive/aggressive if she is to survive. This means that she needs to learn to say whatever it takes to make money. She can never talk about her personal life to anyone as clients can hear this. What you try to do is get the girls programmed to have regular customers. A regular customer is a customer who believes that this girl actually cares for him, and now his fantasy world is complete. He comes in on a regular basis and she invites him back on certain days and times as not to interfere with other regular customers. This is usually set for the club’s slow times because when it’s busy she can make money without her regular clientele. Of course, with all of these girls having regular clients, the club is guaranteed a steady income and solid revenues. The club regulars are usually family men looking for an escape from the real world, and the girls are taught to prey upon them.
Mandatory meetings are set for all the girls. This time is really used for mostly programming of the girls and getting into their heads. You again let them know what you want and motivate them by whatever it takes. Soon the new dancer starts running around with the more hardened and seasoned girls, and they realize how much easier this job is being drunk, high or, more often than not, both. By now she’s working until 2 am in the morning, staying out all night partying after work, and then grabbing a breakfast with the girls. They wake up, go to work, and the cycle starts all over.
They have no time to go to the post office, the dentist, or any other “normal” things. They are deep into the club scene and on the road to hard times and even self-destruction. At this point, school, family, and friends have faded into a world that no longer exists for them.
As a manager, at this point, anything you say, ask or demand of the girl will gladly be done because the club is now their home. The girls don’t realize this is their only world, and the club manager now has total control over what’s going on in their lives. The girls will even put up with degradation, verbal and emotional abuse and everything else the manager wants to do.
At this time the girl may feel fed up and leave, going to a new club thinking to herself that she finally made a decision on her own and things will be better. But she is really just fooling herself. The manager at the new club does the same things except now she has no friends to talk to and the manager knows that most of the time she cannot return to the old club so he abuses her even worse than the first manager. Of course, she then drinks more and gets high more than ever hoping it will go away. It will only get worse for her now.
All purchases of our Scarlet Hope shirt go directly towards giving these men and women a chance to be free from the entrapment of the sex industry.
We are all about educating the wearers of our shirts (and anyone else who cares) as to what they are actually supporting by buying our apparel.
Attached below is the beginning of a multi part series that for better or worse, gives you a much closer look into the adult entertainment industry.
The following document was written by David Sherman, a former manager at one of the largest adult entertainment chains in the country.
Some of these entries may be a bit lengthy, but we truly believe they are worth the read.
-Lee
Part 1 – The Dancers Experience
Right from the start, drug and alcohol use is rampant. The dancers call it “partying” but what they don’t realize is that they are actually medicating themselves in order to do the work they do. The abortion rate is extremely high due to the fact that they could never take the chance on flawing the body from carrying a child. On top of this, the dancers also feel that they have no way to support the baby without dancing, and can’t quit to have it. Basically, they are caught in a very real, painful catch-22.
The girls, if they have never danced, are extremely against it and most of the times are hired as waitresses, even though waitresses are not needed. This makes the atmosphere become part of their life. At this point, they see it as a job, not as stripping and easily are converted to dancing. Once dancing, they get used to being objectified. It becomes as important to them to hear how beautiful they are 200 times a day as it is the money they make from the dancing itself.
Between the use of drugs to medicate themselves to do what they do, and after hearing how beautiful they are all the time, they soon develop what I call “BDA” – Basic Dancer Attitude.“ This is when the dancer thinks that no matter what friends, children, husband and families think about them, they can all be replaced because all of the patrons around them find them attractive, beautiful and idolized. All that was close, in terms of family and friends can be replaced. Now they are truly caught in the adult scene. With friends and family gone from their lives, they solely exist in this dark subculture of sex, drugs, alcohol and prostitution. All of this perverse living, to the dancer, is now just part of their normal lifestyle.
After a couple of years at this level, they then realize they are getting older and attempt to fit back into society.
They try boyfriends, school or really anything to cling to that is “normal.” Realizing that they cannot live in both worlds, they return to the subculture of the adult business, actually despising the real world. This leads to more dependency on drugs and alcohol, which now makes them 100% lost to this life. The dancers will continue living like this until they realize they can no longer stay at their “current level,” and keep making money and getting the compliments. Once they realize this, they begin to master more perverse things to make cash to make up from fading looks and dancer burnout.
The cycle then becomes even more vicious, with depression, drugs, alcohol and body mutilation to stay thin. Finally, they realize they can no longer keep up with the new and younger girls and leave, going to one of five places.
1. They go to a very filthy, dirty nasty club that’s full of girls in their position. Here they perform and do some of the mostvile and filthy acts you can imagine to make money.
2. Prostitution – meeting customers outside of the club, their job now becomes a place for them to meet new “clients.”
3. Marriage – they’ll do this just to be able to still survive. But, the addiction to drugs and alcohol normally shatters and destroys these relationships.
4. Some actually do break away and go to school to become productive citizens. But, this frequency is around 1 of 50.
5. They become society’s throwaway people – used up, degraded, abused and even sold by the people who own these establishments.
Sadly, these young ladies over time, little by little, become manipulated, controlled and finally destroyed by a world that our communities have closed their eyes to. It has been just as much our fault as theirs for letting these places do this to our children, daughters, nieces, granddaughters, and yes, even mothers. For they were every bit as innocent as we.
Tomorrow we will taking a look at this same situation from the managers perspective.
All purchases of our Scarlet Hope shirt go directly towards giving these men and women a chance to be free from the entrapment of the sex industry.
We are often asked this by potential customers and it’s been encouraging that so many of you have interest in making sure that your money is handled responsibly.
Our society has been bombarded with financial meltdown, credit-default swaps, over-leveraged banks, and government bailouts, so it seemed appropriate to give anyone interested a snapshot into how we operate.
Spendyourself is currently run completely by volunteers - We operate strictly on a volunteer basis in order to empower those who have still not had the most basic of needs met. God has constantly provided for us and we are grateful for this.
Spendyourself is a 100% pass-through apparel company – What this means is that every dollar of profit goes right back to the cause that each shirt represents. To give as much as possible back to others, the majority of our startup and promotional costs are covered out of pocket or by donation (yes, we take donations!).
Practically speaking, the typical Spendyourself product is a fair-trade, side seam poly/cotton shirt with custom ink colors and costs $7-$8 to print. Subtract that and your shipping cost from what you paid, and that is how much of your purchase goes straight to the cause.
Don’t forget to tell the story that you shirt embodies to others! You have the unique opportunity to be a voice for someone who doesn’t necessarily have one.
-Lee
Questions? Feel free to email us at spendyourself@gmail.com
Much like the previous post, we’ve asked a few of our friends who spent time this summer in Kenya to share their thoughts. It’s been great hearing how they have been moved to respond to situations that they have been immersed in. The text below is an excerpt from Natalie’s journal.
I had my first wake up call to poverty today when we walked around one of the largest slums in Africa called Kibera. I’m trying to find the words to describe Kibera; all of my senses were awakened. Kibera houses two million people and the huts were nearly as far as my eyes could see. Wood, mud, animal poop, and jagged sheet metal was the material used for their schools, homes, and businesses. Walking around in the streets was hard physically and emotionally. Breat hing in air was cloudy and thick, and constituted a lot of sneezing.
My throat thickened with smoke and grime as I took each breath. The roads were winding and rocky and the only way to walk without tripping was looking down at the ground with each step. The busyness of the streets is still ringing in my ears, hearing men, women and children shouting in Swahili. Raw meat, crops, food, clothing, hair salons and other businesses surrounded us as we continued on. Everything was so crammed, it was as if everyone were literally piled on top of each other. Afterwards, we continued walking into the slum, only to have my eyes opened deeper to poverty. I stepped off the plane in Africa convinced that I’d full grasped the concept of poverty, but the Lord humbled me at the flick of a finger. Walking around Kibera yielded many sights. Men, women, and even children sleeping in the streets next to garbage and livestock. J ohn shared with us seeing a small child fully awake and lying face down in the dirt…the sheer epitome of hopelessness. Heart-wrenching is an understatement as to the smell and sights of Kibera. Children going to the bathroom in the middle of the street, animals rummaging through trash right next to a raw meat kiosk, body odor and human excrement-all these with the added sight/smell of garbage burning. The sad truth was, the garbage was burnt as means to rid the overflow piling in the streets. Yet despite these circumstances, God is there; the people survive. Smiles and waves followed us as we walked on.
One sound in particular that I will never tire of hearing: “MIZUNGU! HOW ARE YOU!” which was the only English the small children knew; it’s a sound that I’ll take back with me to America. Crowds of children approached us chanting that same phrase over and over with beaming expressions. I took pictures of them and showed them the what they looked like. Having not been used to seeing themselves, they giggled and laughed with joy.
Looking into their eyes, I remembered Megan Sullivan’s advice before leaving home and wanted to make an effort to give each of them a small part of me. I did just that, even to the point of correction from Ben Hardman (lol). Two little girls are etched into my memory especially; I approached them, shook their hands, and told them how beautiful they were. They timidly laughed and came closer towards me. As my group pressed on, I waved goodbye to them and started to walk on, when I felt two little chapped hands slip into my palms. As we walked on , these girls held onto me tightly, as if my hands held their hope or security. We reached a point where the kids could no longer come with us, as their neighborhood ended. I knelt down on the rocky ground, bid them a final goodbye, and wrapped my arms around both of them individually. They clung to my shoulder and everything in me wanted to just stay there; but I let go and the girls stood there, watching me walk off with my group. I was dirty & my knees were scraped from kneeling on the rocks, but I actually dread the day they heal back, because I want to glance at the scars and remember what God showed me in Kibera. I was never able to learn the names of those little girls due to the language barrier, but I’ll never forget them.
-Natalie
We’ve asked a few of our friends who spent time this summer in Kisumu to share their thoughts and reflections on the experience.
I have been asked many times to share my experience and I seem to only be able to say the same few sentences. The world I know is forever a different place. It’s next to impossible to describe my experience in Africa. I’m sorry but my response is the same; you have to go there and see it for yourself to truly understand what is happening. I’m embarrassed to say that it took this long but about two thirds of the way through the trip something inside of me changed. My passion in pursuing myself and earthly things became kind of a joke. To think that I had control of what I could achieve if I just put my mind to it seemed frivolous, yet it is a line I’ve been taught and repeated to myself countless times. If anyone witnesses what we did, returned home and didn’t pick up the cause of local, national and international compassion for those in need and those who cannot provide and defend for themselves they have completely missed the point of why God had them on this trip. I have found that Matthew 25:31-46 still holds true today here in Louisville and around the world.
In the days leading up to this trip, I was thinking this would be an amazing experience where I would share the gospel, make new friends and have a good time. I couldn’t have been more wrong. What I learned from 250 orphans and 50 street children was their amazing joy and simple love for God; A love that I have complicated and made hard to attain. I was recently baptized by my roommate and pastor. I had been putting off this act of obedience to God for selfish reasons. I thought I needed to know everything about baptism before I would do it. It was my roommate who reminded me that the first Christians were baptized as infants in their faith in obedience to God and then grew in their knowledge of Christ. I still remember the water covering my face, it was as if it was happening in slow motion and the whole time I was recalling the sentence that was just said to the crowd that baptism is the emblem of burial and cleansing, signifying death to the old life of unbelief, and purification from the pollution of sin.
I have a family back in Kenya and the mission field is not only here in Louisville, but all around us. Don’t be afraid! It’s time to stop thinking “Oh some day I’ll…” and make that some day and some time here and now. I am constantly amazed by how people of my generation have stood up and said “I’m not what the world is making me out to be” and are showing their love for God by giving of themselves in so many ways. Please pray and seek that you’ll do the same. For things we crave of this earth will soon loose their shine and eerily fade away. Pursue which is eternally yours. Pursue God.
In His name,
Jason
Click here to find out one way to become engaged with LIA’s work in Kenya.
As we gear up for our Fall campaign of projects and concerts coming up, we could use everyone’s help and we are willing to pay you for it.
We are in process of building a pretty sweet photo-mosaic of people wearing their Spendyourself tees. With that said, we need pictures of you wearing your shirts!
We understand that everyone is busy these days, and as a small thank you we’ll give you $5 off your next purchase in exchange for your pictures.
Be a part of the change.
All submissions can be sent to spendyourself@gmail.com
-Lee
…so there is this man, preacher man, who lives in a small flat on the southside of Chicago. Everyday preacher man wakes up and walks to church where he fulfills his preacher-like duties. Upon completing his tasks preacher man happily walks home. One windy cold morning, preacher man woke up and ventured outside. Startled he sees that his brother, Roy, a prominent business man, has drove up from St. Louis to pay him a visit. Brother Roy is standing next to a brand new S Class Mercedes Benz. “Preacher man”, says brother Roy, “I have bought you this new car so your travels will be light and comfortable.” Preacher man was dumbfounded. “But this car is much more than I derserve, much too nice a gesture”, stated preacher man. “NO, you must accept. No brother of mine doing the Lords work shall have to walk day and night, through the elements, just to fulfill his preacher-like duties”, stated brother Roy. The preacher man joyfully accepted, and brother Roy caught a cab back to St. Louis.
Pleased by his new blessing, preacher man feared for the upkeep and safety of the car, being on the southside of Chicago and all. Preacher man decided to rent a garage, about a mile from his flat, where he will keep and maintain the car. So every morning preacher man rises, walks to his garage, starts his car, drives to church, performs his preacher-like duties, returns his car to the garage, and walks home. One cold rainy morning preacher man gets to his garage and is greeted by a curious eight year old boy. “Is that your car mister?!”, proclaims the child, “that sure is a nice ride!” Entering the garage preacher man responds that it is, and before the door can close the little boy scurries in behind him. “Mister this car is beautified, I betcha it cost more than my house,” sputters the boy. “Mister, how much does a car like this cost?”
“Well I don’t know, little boy” humbly replied preacher man
“How can you not know, this thing must of costed a fortune!”
“Actually this car was a gift, a gift from my brother Roy, thats why I do not know how much it cost”, stated preacher man.
The boys hammers out, “O’ i wish, I wish, I wish…and the preacher man thought to himself, “I know, you probably wish you had a brother that would buy you a car like this…” And the little boy said, “O’ I wish, I wish, I wish…. I could be a brother like that”
-C.Harp
This post is long overdue, but we’ve all been on the road lately. A couple of Fridays ago, we had the chance to be a part of Re:Create at Iroquois Park in Louisville.
It was a pretty cool picture of three churches from different backgrounds and locations coming together for a night of some solid music and prayer. Musicians from North Side, Sojourn, and Southeast formed two bands and let it fly after that.
Following the music set on Friday night, volunteers then gathered on Saturday morning to give Iroquois Park some much needed beautification.
Ron and Joel hard at work before the action begins.
Brooks and Julie cranking it out.
Gabe and Elizabeth leading the second set.
the SY crew
Guest Blogger: Amy T.
Over the last year Amy has traveled to India twice with Faceless International to learn about and work in areas that are greatly affected by Human Trafficking. This time around, she had the opportunity to spend just over five weeks working in shelters that rescue trafficking victims and help the children living in the red light district of Kolkata, India.
We will be working with Amy in the future to develop a scholarship fund for the same children wanted to help you give you some insight to our newest project.
Trafficking is essentially modern day slavery, and currently there are 27 million people in slavery. Of that, 50% are children, 80% are women and girls and 70% of the females trafficked are in the sex industry. Trafficking isn’t just an Asian, African or European ordeal, it is happening on American soil as well; 800,000 people are trafficked across international borders every year. So many products we consume could have been touched by slavery; our coffee, our chocolate, our clothes, the cars we drive, etc. Trafficking has become a $32 billion dollar a year industry.
In Kolkata, I worked at a shelter as a therapist (I’m in my last year of grad school to be an Art Therapist) to the children of the red light district. The average of a sex worker is 9 years old. Driving through the streets, I saw a lot of the women and girls out waiting for men. A lot of the girls I could be the mother of and I’m barely 27 years old. We got caught in a traffic jam (all so common in the streets of Kolkata. I don’t know if it was by construction vehicle or cows) and my taxi was rushed by women with sarees wrapped around them like towels. One of them handed her baby inside the taxi for me to take home with me. I wish I could have but I struggle to take care of myself, and I’m sure that would be bothersome to get through customs.
The kids there were so happy and excited to see me, and we’ve only met one other time. They are such beautiful children and had so much joy.
I will never forget the time spent with those kids in Khidderpore. They were so much fun. Those few hours were filled with laughter and smiling and story telling (a lot of which I couldn’t understand). Looking back, it’s just what I needed. Coming home, I have the opportunity to do something about these kids that spend their childhoods, their lives in the brothels. Literally sleeping in the room next to their mothers/sisters/aunts/cousins “working”.
God is slowly showing what He has planned to do and how He’s going to use me to carry out this plan. It’s incredibly exciting and I cannot wait to get back to those kids at Khidderpore and believe me when I say that I will be back.
I’m so privileged to be apart of a community that supports me and wants me to succeed. The kids at Khidderpore and in other red light districts across the world need to have that too.
One of our friends Jenna spent her summer in a small slum in Kenya and was willing to share her story and reflections. I think you’ll find this story certainly worth taking the time to read.
At times it is hard for me to express my emotions about my time in Mitumba; and then there are days when all I want is for someone to listen to my stories for hours. I don’t want to hide everything I am feeling inside, because there is a fire in my heart that cannot be silenced, as hard as I may try.
Often, I recall my last day in Mitumba. The tears running down my face, the tears of two of my most cherished girls there bring me back to the emotion of that moment. I didn’t expect to form friendships with the children the way I did. I didn’t expect to feel like a part of the church’s family. And I didn’t expect to see the Lord in so many new, refreshing ways.
I spent five weeks this summer working in a small slum in Nairobi called Mitumba. When Kenyans hear the word “mitumba”, they normally think of its Swahili definition, meaning “a second-hand person”. But what I found in Mitumba was so much more than a second-hand group of people; I found children who are full of joy, unlike that of any other children I have met. I had the privilege of working with a group of teachers who have sacrificed a normal teacher’s salary in order to serve the children. I came to love a Pastor and his wife who have been faithful to the Lord’s call to start a ministry to “the least of these”. I saw God work in miraculous ways; and through all of this, the Lord opened the eyes of my heart.
Their faith challenged me to gain a better understanding of the power and might of the Living God. I realized that the Lord did not bring me to Mitumba to give some money and to prioritize needs for the organization I was working with; He brought me there to teach me that the greatest thing I can give to the people is my heart. They are yearning for people to share life with them, to love them, to hold them, and to offer a listening ear. One of the best ways to share life with people is to rejoice when they rejoice and mourn when they mourn. Some of my biggest joys came when I was having fun with the children–singing with them, laughing with them, dreaming with them about their futures. Some of the most difficult moments were spent holding a child who had been told that morning that his mother wanted to kill him, and crying with a mother who had just lost two of her children in the last month.
The joy runs deep, the hurt is heavy; and they are both equal realities for the children and people of Mitumba.
Now that I am home, I know their joy and hurt continues on. I know that life is hard and challenges continue daily. Before I went to Mitumba, our lives were more than 8000 miles apart; but now I carry the people and their stories with me in my heart. They are stories that challenge me to respond with prayer, generosity, and a desire to be united with them again.
-Jenna
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