Encounter with an Intelligent Stripper

 

It is yet another Friday and here is another Richie Online article, as usual. The only new thing is that this is being typed by Walter Moyo. Unlike Richard Kamwezi, I’m not an experienced blogger. To be entirely honest, I’m not even a blogger at all. I’m just another regular person sitting behind a computer. Richie asked me to put in an entry and I gladly accepted. I may boast a few stories but that’s about it. The dexterity of crafting words is not something I claim to be immensely endowed with.

Okay, let’s do away with the chit-chat and go direct to the story. I am (and have been) staying in the US for the past two years. Earlier this year before the infamous pandemic reared its ugly head, I decided to pay a visit to the world’s mecca of carnal motivations. Did you guess Las Vegas? That’s it. That was where I went. Scores of people from all coordinates of the globe trek to this bustling city to treat themselves to the pleasures of life. It therefore comes as no surprise that Las Vegas is rightfully nicknamed “Sin City”. Vegas is synonymous with gambling at its world-class casinos. Partying, drinking, smoking and other vices I haven’t mentioned also take place there, mostly ones that are legal and non-violent. But my motivation for going to Vegas was fueled more by my curiosity for adventure than any zeal for partying. I don’t drink. If I do, it's a few glasses once every 7 years or so, for reasons unbeknownst to anyone.

I had a lot of fun during my 3 days in Vegas, despite that I had gone alone. It was only on the third day, though, that I got to learn a thing or two from my stay there. It was kind of funny considering that this was the last place I would have expected to gain any useful knowledge from. So, here’s what happened. I decided to finish off my stay there with a visit to a strip club. For the sake of the uninitiated, these are clubs where almost-naked women perform dances and strip-teases to mesmerized audiences for money. Save for small-sized panties that they use to thinly veil their dignity; they basically dance naked. The patrons, typically well-dressed high-class, middle-aged men, throw a banknote or two at the marvel of the acts. 

I sat down there watching the performers do their best acts. Various performers took turns to display strip-dances on a central pole. The better one danced, the more money got thrown her way. I felt a little bit out of place, but was also somewhat excited to have tried visiting a type of place I had never been to before. It was less about the girls and more about the feeling of doing something new. As I got even more lost into my thoughts, a beautiful damsel approached me from behind. “Hello honey, can I join you?” she asked softly. She was of Hispanic descent and had a chocolate-toned skin and glowing eyes. She looked exactly like the rap artist Cardi-B. I made sure I gave this compliment to her. She smiled and acknowledged that she was from the Dominican Republic. In the first moments, I was wary of accepting her offer to join me on my seat. I thought she wanted to perform a lap-dance for me to earn some money, and I was hardly in the mood for that. She was quick to notice my reluctance and swiftly moved to clarify her intentions. “Don’t worry, I’m not looking to perform a dance for you. I’m just tired and want a useful conversation. I don’t need you to give me any money” said the girl.

My mouth remained agape. I did not know how to answer her, mostly because I was not sure what kind of discussion I would have with a stripper. I had never had a conversation with such a person and I did not know what to expect. I remained curious to see how everything would go, though. The conversation continued. We initially talked about basic issues like why I was there and where she was from. We then gradually went on to dissect deeper matters, such as issues relating to her line of work. This was where my expectations began to get blown. I got a bit surprised to actually feel like I was learning several things. For one, the stripper pointed to a sign within the strip-lounge, that said that prostitution was illegal. It confused me at first, because my pre-conception was that strippers were one and the same thing as prostitutes. I was informed that I had been misinformed. This girl and the other strippers were simply that—strippers—and nothing else. They could perform services as escorts or models, but it still was NOT prostitution. You can pay to spend time with them, but not to have sex with them. Any attempts to coerce them into performing sex acts and other activities outside of the “professional” stripping activities could get you in trouble. I learnt of the existence of professional stripper associations that aim to enforce this.

There were other more interesting things that I learnt this night. The stripper continued to tell me of aspects of her job that I could not have thought of. She explained how her job sometimes allowed her to provide emotional and psychological comfort to other people. She loved this part because it allowed her to be of help to someone in need, much like a therapist. The discussion continued into the subject of depression, which many people suffer from without realizing or without revealing it. The stripper convincingly and elaborately explained how her job was important to resolving such kinds of fundamental problems. She explained that her job thus required special communication skills and empathetic approaches. It was not a job every Jim and Jack could perform. This gave sense to why this job required one to have a certification/ licensure of some sort. I got more astounded at this point. Who would have guessed that strippers could share some characteristics with Mother Theresa? No one. At this point, I was sold. I didn't (and haven't) stop thinking that stripping was an undignified job, but at least I got a clear, distinct sense of its difference from prostitution.

That was not all I discussed with the stripper. We went on and covered even more topics such as the complicated industrial process of wine-production, modern social problems in society and the mechanisms of systemic racism. I can be quite a “semi-nerd” when it comes to intellectual discussions, and the depth to which this stripper girl held her end of the conversations amazed be. I’m not easy to impress, but this girl impressed me with her knowledge of a wide variety of subjects and, more importantly, how she could relate them together to form formidable arguments. This was when I realized that I was talking to a smart person. She was not only witty, but she (surprisingly) seemed to appear to be in her job not only because of the money, but also because of the need to help people.  She talked of many times where she had escorted men who, after being drunk, lost awareness. She could have easily conned them of their money but chose to be honest with them and keep their belongings safe until they woke up. She sounded somewhat genuine and I believed her because it was clear she was not expecting anything from me, so I thought she had no reason to lie. Of course, this may have merely been an instance of someone beating their own drum, so I took it with a pinch of salt. Still more, the passion, intellect and genuineness with which she spoke was captivating. We talked for about an hour more and covered even more intellectual subjects, until the stripper who was on the pole left the stage. Then she stood up and fastened the buckles of her stilettoes. "I need to go back to work. I enjoyed our great conversation", said the stripper as she marched to the dancing pole, leaving me in awe of the night I had just witnessed.

From this day on, I knew that I had a lot of re-thinking to do regarding all the stereotypes I held about strippers, and people in general. And that was how I concluded my Vegas adventure.

Side note from Richie: Walter Moyo is one of those adventurous people who text me using a +1 number. Not important that you know him, really. Thanks and have a happy weekend.