The Star Garden Picket Line

I’ve told a wide array of people about the protest at Star Garden: strippers at my club, customers, even a handful of bouncers who have surprisingly taken an interest. One of the main questions I get is, “What makes Star Garden worse than any other club?” The premise of this question is that strip clubs are essentially fine: they’re not great, but what do you expect? It speaks to a broader societal laxity with which we regard our workplaces. People in the United States do not expect to enjoy our work. We do not expect our workplaces to care about us in any meaningful way. We expect bosses to be greedy, to under pay us for our work, and to treat us as disposable. Anytime a workplace does anything beyond this baseline, it gets a writeup in some magazine praising its treatment of employees. We’re amazed when we hear about a restaurant that voluntarily pays for health insurance and sick leave. We’re over the moon when we read about a skincare company that offers a month of maternity leave. We’re speechless when a sportswear company offers equity to full-time employees! To provide employees with more than the minimum is newsworthy. I say this all the time, but the bar is so low, it is literally on the ground.

To return to the question of whether or not Star Garden is “that bad,” let’s look at what a “normal” strip club looks like. Strippers pay to work. We arrive all across America with the expectation that at the end of our shift, we will have to pay out a percentage of our earnings back not only to the club, but also to our non-stripper coworkers. For every dance we sell, the club takes a cut, and that cut can be up to 70%. There are no laws regulating what percentage of dance prices clubs are allowed to take. At most clubs, security is at best inconsistent. Ask any stripper and they can tell you a story of being touched against their will, reporting the incident to a manager or bouncer, and finding that *maybe* the customer got a mild “talking to”. I’ve had bouncers roll their eyes when I’ve spoken up about predatory customers. I’ve had friends who were sent home without pay after walking out of a lap dance during which they were sexually assaulted. Most clubs are not consistently cleaned. Most clubs poorly maintain dancer bathrooms, dressing rooms, and other dancer-specific lounge areas. Most strippers can attest to getting splinters, cuts, bruises, or other major injuries from improperly maintained stages. Most clubs enforce a stage shoe policy that causes long-term joint damage. Most clubs permit male staff to sexually harass dancers, even though they are often legally obligated to attend sexual harassment trainings. Most clubs openly discriminate based on race, size, age, and gender among other things. Just this week, a dancer at my club reported seeing a text message exchanged between the managers at my club and the club owner, that they were to hire no additional Black or fat dancers, or else they would be fired. Most strippers have worked an entire shift and made less than minimum wage. Even when strippers make less than what they’ve paid for gas or Uber rides, they still feel obliged to tip out. These are just a few of the many ubiquitous yet illegal practices we see in strip clubs across the United States. This is “regular” and yet it shouldn’t be treated as acceptable. Strip clubs can be fantastic worlds of possibility where amazingly talented people, otherwise locked out of upward mobility, find all kinds of opportunities. However, it’s important to take a pragmatic view, especially when we’re considering the question of reform.

Another misconception is that stripper activists simply want to take the entire industry down. If we wanted to, we certainly could. Most clubs are a jackpot for any stripper looking to take legal action in response to the litany of abuses I’ve listed above, however many strippers hesitate to file lawsuits. I also want to make it clear that strippers who file lawsuits also care about their clubs. There are many ways to prompt reform, and participating in a class action or individual suit can force clubs to end harmful policies. Strippers care about our clubs and coworkers. We don’t want to be blacklisted or face ostracism for taking action. We worry about the many undocumented workers who could become collateral damage. But realistically, if clubs weren’t up to shady business, they wouldn’t be so vulnerable to legal action. If we wanted to harpoon the industry, there are plenty of anti sex work lobbying groups and class action suits dancers could piggy back onto, but that is not what is happening right now. Instead, a group of dancers who want nothing more than to return to work are petitioning their employers for change. They are picketing because they want management to begin to address just a few of the many hazards they face at work. They have decided not to tolerate their club firing people who talk about working conditions. They have united together and voted to form the first stripper union in almost three decades. Strip club owners bristle at the slightest hint of resistance, and yet they walk all over strippers. In California, strippers have seen their hours cut, a higher percentage of their dances taken, ramped up discrimination, and yet we have been conditioned not to believe in our power. Which is why it’s remarkable to see a group of dancers harness that power and take brave steps to push their club to be the kind of place where they want to work, where they feel they are treated with dignity and respect.

It’s been twelve long weeks holding the line. I’ve been to a lot of protests in my life, but none quite like this. What’s surprised me most is how tightly knit the community around it has become. We see the same faces every week: the same mix of dancers dressing up for all kinds of imaginative themes, the same customers standing dutifully beside them, and the same hodgepodge of labor activists putting in time–knowing how lengthy and arduous the fight can be. Sometimes it’s a party. We put on fun music and dance in the cold while we hold up signs asking customers to turn around–to consider the other strip club, a block away. Sometimes it’s grueling. Customers can get belligerent. They call us names, get in our faces, and berate us for ruining their experience. They heckle us for caring. They refuse to make eye contact as they hurry into the mostly empty club. They hit the gas as they swerve into the driveway, nearly hitting us. The Star Garden dancers take all of this in stride. I’ll be off to the side, clutching my proverbial pearls, while the dancers beside me shrug off the trauma. It’s remarkable how resilient you have to be to endure for this long, to maintain morale and stamina to make it until 1:30 in the morning. But the beauty is that there is so much more keeping these dancers and their allies on the line every weekend. It’s not just stubbornness. It is the camaraderie they have created. It is the fact that even after months on the line, they are still able to turn a protest into a celebration. It is the warmth between people who care not only about the cause, but about each other. It has given many people purpose in unexpected ways. When you’re fighting for an intrinsically good thing, it feels good.

Being able to volunteer a bit of time to support this effort has been so rewarding for me. I wish I was brave like them, but witnessing their courage has been inspiring nonetheless. For clarity, I’m not a Star Garden dancer. I did not organize this effort. They did this, and I’m just along for the ride, supporting as best as I can.

I know this entry is a bit short. I have Covid, and I’m really feeling it. I’m stuck in quarantine for the next five days, so if you’re reading this, send me a little inspirational message <3