Editor’s note: sexual harassment mentioned
The Maiden
It’s my first night at the club
I am a baby stripper.
I’m wide eyed and optimistic
Excited for the wealth I will obtain
And the skills I will gain.
Like a blank canvas,
Or a clump of clay
I am yet to be painted
Or moulded a certain way.
But I am the artist,
So I feel confident!
But I’m also uncertain
As I embark on this journey
With no one to guide me
I’ll learn as I go.
I am naive,
And to no fault of mine.
I don’t hate men…
Well, maybe a little.
They are excited by me
They like that I’m youthful
I think they view me as a naive fool.
But I’ll allow it
Because it works to my advantage.
I am hopeful
That I will make friends for life
I will connect with likeminded sex positive humans
We will exchange stories
Resources and love.
I choose my own path
And I follow it with fresh eyes
And walk it with six inch heels.
The Mother
I have worked in clubs for three years
I am a stripper mother.
I have taken baby strippers under my wing
And helped them to evolve
Like those before who nurtured me
To be the stripper mother I was destined to be.
I love my fellow dancers unconditionally.
While the rest of the world shuns us immensely
We are never alone
For we have made a home
In an unlikely place
For we know more than anyone
That family is not blood
Family is mutual respect,
Family is love.
I fucking hate men
But I pity them, too
I see them as little boys
Desperate to return to their wombs.
They try to suckle my breasts,
And tell me they love me.
They cry on my shoulder
They grope and they shove me
Jerking off with one hand
And pointing with the other
Is this what it means to be a mother?
No, the motherhood lies in the changing rooms
Where I’m surrounded by a community
Hidden away from the gloom.
Illuminated under the fluorescent lights
We see each other here
The human behind the makeup and fishnet tights
Counting our tips and
Cursing those who have wronged us
For in this whanaungatanga
That we have found in one another
We do what we can to protect each other
This is what it means to be a mother.
The Crone
I am no longer hustling
I am a retired stripper.
With bones that snap, crackle and pop
Spending my nights smoking pot
While massaging my feet
Reminiscing on the people
I’ve had the honour to meet
My knees are forever bruised
Never bothered by those
Who try to intrude
By demanding I share
The skills I’ve acquired
Without compensation
I’m no longer for hire
They’ll pick at my brain
They’ll say I’m insane
Some will vilify me
Others will pity me
But I will simply laugh
Because I’m too old to care
I’m too wise to manipulate
And soon, I won’t be here.
I am old
I am spent
I can see right through men
And for that, they resent
I try to warn the young
But they must learn on their own
For now,
I am grateful to have a home
I prefer my solitude
But I’m never alone
I look back on my years
With joy and pride
I have nothing to lose
I have nothing to hide
I am whole
And I am wise.
Take a look at some of the other poems in our poetry series: PSO by Madame Frenchie, and A Loverboy Slut’s Ode to Sunrises by dagger.
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