I started dancing in the year 2,000 in a small town gentlemen’s club. From the outside, the building looked like a big red barn, in which I found out later, it was a horse stable. The barn had blackout windows so you can not peek to see what’s inside. As I stepped into the barn, I was met with lights and music like an amusement park. The interior of the club looked liked time warp from the ’80s. It had a big large open space with rows of tables where stark nude ladies danced at. They had three catwalk style stages. The brass pole would be on each stage placed somewhere in the center of the stage and not very high. I never attempted to do any pole tricks due to my thoughts of embarrassment.
The “Queen B’s” there were all tall and bodacious. They all remind me of Kelly LeBrock stepping out of the 1985 John Huges movie, “Weird Science.” They towered over me with their big hair, big breasts, and high stilettos. The Queen, “Benz” was draped in gold medallions of various sized Mercedes symbols. There would be no mistaking who she was. She did not bully anyone and carried herself gracefully, and confidently as the H.B.I.C. (Head Bitch In Charge.)
I was quite the opposite. How did I even get hired? I was petite, short & a “newbie.” This was the beginning of my 20 years. I was 18 years old, inexperienced with a virginal mind. This did not help my self-confidence. In addition, I was being bullied by the “house girls” who made it uncomfortable and their antics continued to diminish my self-esteem.
I endured 2 years there at that particular club until I surprisingly got scouted to open up a brand new establishment in a bustling metropolis. How can this be? The Queens did not get scouted? Nor did my bullies? I would think the more experienced house girls would be better suited to be part of a major grand opening.
On my first day at this new establishment, I walk into a pristine new club. This club was not as large as the “barn” but went up with multiple floors. A first floor, a second-level mezzanine, and a third-level floor above the mezzanine, which is the VIP. Their stage had a set of stairs that brings you down to a high pedestal stage where the center pole stretched to the ceiling of the mezzanine. The dressing room was no longer a small shabby horse stable but a super clean, brightly lit, untouched backstage. The club was so upscale, it provided us with our own beauty crew, a make-up artist, seamstress, and runner ready to glam us up. The club clienteles were expected to celebrities, athletes, other club owners, and predominantly corporate white collars.
As I enter the dressing room for the first time, to join my new associates, some faces I recognized & some I did not. There were fifteen of us gals selected from various clubs to be the opening acts. Apparently the new theme here is BLONDES. Short, tall, petite statured, blondes with big boobs. I am for sure not this either.
I am of Asian descent. It seemed to me that Asians were not sought out much at that time. There are not many Asian dancers or black dancers that I have worked with. I have previously worked with only one or two other Asians and a few black girls. I have never danced down south, where it may be different. I hear it’s predominantly black women dancers if you go more southern down the states. Most times I have been the only Asian performer working in the establishments. Dancing with other Asians are so competitive that we don’t make alliances inside or outside of the club. (More on that later.)
So here I was, natural boobs, short, Asian, & inexperienced, amongst a sea of seductive endow blondes in a high-end establishment that expected you to be one of the best.
Needless to say I cried a lot.
I compared my earnings, my body, my hair, my skin color and felt like nobody wanted to talk to me. I was too young to drink alcohol, and I didn’t have much life experience to talk about and I have yet learned the art of salesmanship.
When I had some downtime in the club (in which I did frequently) I would send the runner out and buy numerous fortunate cookies, like 50 of them! Good thing we were close to many Chinese food restaurants. I would sulk in between my stage sets in the back and stuff my face with fortune cookies because I was depressed, doubting every fortune I read. The make-up artist would get annoyed due to the cook wrappers and fortunes strewn all over the dressing room, continuously hearing me sob, and because she frequently had to fix my runny make-up.
Something had to give…
Thank Heavens for the release of the 2003 “Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle.” Lucy Liu saved me and my career! The movie was a hit and Asians were hot again. This was my first observation of society following trends. Trends definitely influence clientele preferences.
Lucy Liu single handedly popularized asians again as a sex symbol (Read More).
Not long after, I became the poster girl for the club with my picture plastered all over the city in advertisement and metros. Eventually, the entire city knew who I was. It was the best revenge for my bullies, for they had to see my face everywhere.
Soon, I notice others follow suit. J Lo excited the city with exotic Latinas, and Shakira highlighted festive Caraval culture with her sexy belly dancing hip that influenced the new wave of Brazilians dancers to be highly sought out. Nikki Manaj and Kim K popularized big lips and big butts and soon the sport of twerking emerged.