Always gone before dawn and back after dusk; growing up I saw my mother break her back and work herself to the bone, just to barely be able to keep a (leaky) roof over our heads. Sure, to everyone else we were poor. To us, we were beyond wealthy with each other’s love. I adored my mother growing up and appreciated how hard she fought for the little we had. But seeing her lose her freedom, joy and all chance at finding love in pursuit of that dollar, I vowed to myself, “Never get trapped in the rat race. Never get trapped in the 9-5.” You have to understand, ever since I was a little girl I had dreams of being known and making money, serious money. I wanted to be my own boss, taking charge and always calling the shots. But how could I possibly achieve that? Luckily, I grew up in a place called Atlanta, the heart and soul of Georgia. And in Atlanta, if you wanted to be a real boss, making real money, you had two options – rapping or stripping. With a glorious behind, thick enough to stop traffic and make husbands want to cheat – I chose the latter. I chose to be a stripper. I. Chose.
Atlanta strippers aren’t like the ones you see on movies, TV screens or even in other states – we don’t abuse drugs and we don’t have daddy issues. On the whole, we’re independent women with entrepreneur spirits. Preferring to earn our own money rather than having it given to us. We’re empowered. And empowered women only go to one place in Atlanta… While actors go to LA, soccer players to Europe, strippers, the very good ones at least, go to Magic City. At 18, like a moth to an open flame, I couldn’t help but be drawn to the neon lights of the best strip club in America, possibly the world. Magic City, a place where diamonds sparkle, champagne pours and money rains. In my first month stripping, I made more money in a month than my mother did in an entire year…
Stop. I know what you’re thinking, “No one chooses to be a stripper…” But you’d be wrong, I did and I do, every day. I know about choice feminism – you can’t shake your arse 24/7, sometimes you have to pick up a book – which says if a woman comes from a less privileged background, she can’t have true choice as the options are limited. However, that is not me, at all. Sure, I came from a poor family, but I always had good grades and determination… If I wanted to, I could have been that lawyers or that surgeon. Yet, I choose to strip because I loved the idea of being constantly desired and always the center of attention. It excites me to have men grovel at my feet and watch them spend all their money just to be near me. Just for a second, when that spotlight hits me and the music pulses, I feel as if the whole world stops turning and all eyes are on me. Magic.
Don’t get me wrong, I know I can’t strip forever – I’m not stupid. Sooner or later, time even beats the best of surgeon’s scalpels. I’ve got plans. When the last song is played and the last dollar is thrown, I’m going to take my entrepreneurial spirit to the next level and run my very own club. And it’ll be the best in town because I know this business better than anybody else. I know the best DJs. I’ll know how to treat my dancers better. Most of all, I’ll have more hustle in me than anyone else does. Period. I was born to strip. I was born to live that American dream.