Sexual Assault and Toxic Masculinity

In just browsing Facebook in the last week, I've been reminded of the magnitude of the problem that sexual assault is in our culture. It's not that I didn't know it existed, but the huge, pervasive reminder that people I love and care about are showing me as I scrolled through my feed reaffirms to me that it's a real thing that really happens to real people. And I needed to see that.

I've mentioned before that one of the things that makes burlesque a tight-knit community is the fact that we're doing a vulnerable form of art. We take ownership in doing a type of performance with our bodies that can be perceived in a dangerous and possessive way to others. Because of that, there's a level of trust that is required among performers and the people we work with. Backstage, you absolutely need to trust the people you're collaborating with in order to not feel unsafe. Because of that, we're all held to high standards, and that trust can be so easily taken advantage of.

In the last week alone, I've been made aware of two separate acts of sexual assault that were perpetrated by male members of the burlesque community. While neither of them are my story to tell, I did want to acknowledge that this is the kind of thing that happens all too often, and very close to home. This is why it is crucially important for me to believe the people who tell me about these violations of personal boundaries, and why I need to factor that information into my decisions about who I work with and hire for my own productions.

What's terrifying to me is that men in our culture are in so many ways raised to feel entitled to sex. Not only does our media corroborate this by showing movies, television shows, comics and video games with male protagonists being "awarded" the beautiful woman for saving the day, but we're thrust into conversations about masculinity that are predicated on men taking what they want from women who are unwilling, non-consenting, or uninterested.

These tropes are sneaky, and they often work themselves into burlesque acts. As a straight male who does burlesque, I confess that it's very easy to use striptease as the theatrical leverage that makes a female character on stage do a thing. In creating a scene where a male protagonist will remove clothing or make a comically lewd joke in order to change how another character (or audience member, as the case may be) views him, we're subtly reinforcing a harmful perspective that being sexually aggressive can net you positive results.

I wanted to acknowledge that my own perspective on this is just one side of the issue. Women, fem, non-binary, and people with different sexual orientations all have varying narratives on how our culture treats the issue of sexual assault, and it's equally important that we're all involved in this dialogue.

One person I know posted something to Facebook that brought me backwards in time to my own involvement in perpetrating toxic masculine culture. I asked him if I could share his post, and I copied it in its entirety below;

Brendan Boogie

3 hrs · 

All of this "me too" is really moving me. However, I don't see a lot of men admitting to their part of it, so I'm breaking my "don't actually write anything real on the internet" rule. Here goes:

In my boozy single days, I can remember occasions in which I was too aggressive or persistent and made women uncomfortable. I knew I wasn't a threat to anyone's safety, so I never even considered that my approach could be perceived as threatening in any way. Looking back, I was completely wrong about this. I regret not recognizing the power inherent in my maleness. I should have behaved in a less selfish, more compassionate way. I am deeply sorry for this. I am still learning and trying to get better.

Fellas - there's not a bunch of faceless mystery men that are making women feel unsafe. It's us. Let's do better.

Of course, as I read this, I went back through my own timeline and tried to figure out how I might also have been that guy. I don't pretend that I'm without blame, or that I don't have similar flashbacks to memories of being too aggressive or persistent with someone because I thought that was what you did to win someone's interest. I thought back to memories of my high school football locker room, which I assure you is not just a cliche, but a real place where other men brag about their sexual conquests. I remember being silent in situations where I watched other men making women uncomfortable and unsafe, and being too frightened of whatever silly, insignificant thing to say anything. I also recall listening to female and fem people in my life, and a younger me offering to help solve their problem with violence instead of listening and acknowledging, and understanding that one form of toxic masculinity doesn't require the deployment of another.

In terms of the steps I need to take now, I will strive to be compassionate and sincere in how I treat other people. I will watch my speech to ensure that I don't speak about subjects that normalize sexual assault in any form. I will also make sure I'm listening and not speaking when other people are sharing their experiences and believe others when they share their own narratives. I will speak up when I am watching men saying or doing things that are making women feel unsafe. I have, and will continue to not work with people who I have learned are dangerous, or who do not espouse these beliefs.

In relation to the men who have committed sexual assault in the burlesque community, it's important that we don't continue to provide them opportunities to perform. Even though asking someone to leave your production is 100% of the time going to be an unpleasant conversation, my policy is that if someone tells you they feel unsafe, I can assure you that that conversation will absolutely take place.

I am not perfect, and I acknowledge that I have a long way to go. I am learning and trying to get better, with the acknowledgement that I play a role in how we handle sexual assault in our culture. I can only hope that doing the right thing and being respectful stops being the paradigm and starts becoming the minimum accepted standard for how we treat each other.

Wanting to be a part of everything

Since a couple years ago I've had a pretty steady amount of offers to be in many different kinds of burlesque and variety shows. This is normally an awesome thing, as it means I have to hustle less to get myself booked. I appreciate and am grateful that enough show producers can find a place for me in their plan for an entertaining evening.

I had a moment recently where I found myself hesitating while writing a response email. A response in which I was declining a gig.

"DECLINED!"

I had a really hard time writing this one email, and was worried about how what I was saying might come off. Typical anxiety notwithstanding (this producer will hate me/never book me again, I'll miss out on a chance to do something fun, if I don't do this it'll look bad, etc), this is an activity I find more stressful than all of the preparation that comes with an acceptance. Though I've written these types of responses before, I think the reason why I'm having so much trouble this year is for two main reasons;

1 - Due to recent life circumstances, I have the capacity to take on fewer commitments than ever before.

2 - Having done festivals and shows in a wide mess of new places, I now know EXACTLY what I'm saying "no" to.

Saying no to things that are too much for you to handle is a healthy practice. With that said, I've -NEVER- been good at it. Despite Lucifer Christmas's recent blog post assuring me that "there will always be another gig," I know that in my own little mind, there will be some degree of omnipresent regret for saying no. It's awful, and I don't know how to make that go away and shut up with the noises.

As I watch my friends head off to other cities (and countries) to go to festivals, I do feel a little bit of FOMO. I always make a short list in my head every year of all the festivals I want to do, and make a casual attempt to remember when and where they are each year.

Further compounding this is the mathematical fact that I only have a finite amount of years left to try to follow up on some of these dreams before I retire from burlesque or die.

A few more shots to the head like this, and that day may be right around the corner.
Photo by Rob Starobin, NYC Nerdlesque Festival.

On the other hand, I am writing the majority of this after having just finished a 2 hour nap in the middle of a relaxing getaway in New Hampshire. Between a demanding 9-5 weekday job, regular circus and strength training, and an average of 10-15 various gigs per month, I forgot how completely satisfying an afternoon nap can feel.

Granted, this last week was a grind--six shows, three of which involved acrobatic and physically painful stage combat (thank you for that, Holy Shitsnacks, An Archer Burlesque). The show turned out amazingly, and the cast was completely on their A-game. And speaking of which, look at this amazing cast intro video;

Video by Adriano Moraes, all cast credits contained within.

Some people have the ability to grind it out and make this whole burlesque thing their living, but I know that I don't have the energy to do that. Frankly, I'm looking forward to being able to rest up a bit and take the biggest swing I can at the next thing I'm able to go 110% on. To me, that seems like the best way to get back in, and I know that I'll be less stressed (and tired) if I'm able to choose what that next thing is.

There's a lot of questions spinning around in the blender here for me. What kind of fulfillment do I get from packing my schedule full of things that scare me? Why do I have such ennui about declining things that my Meyers-Briggs test results tell me I should hate? Why do I find satisfaction doing something that makes my father uncomfortable?

Maybe it's because of that time I threatened to cut off another man's muttonchops.
Photo by Roger Gordy, Old School Game Show

What is it exactly that I'm afraid to give up? I guess the best answer I can come up with is....that I enjoy being other people. Is that escapism?

As burlesque performers, we all want to entertain--that much is universally true. I look at entertaining others as a side benefit, since I feel like there's a bigger thrill to be had by exploring the lives of people and characters with other perspectives. Each time I get to perform on stage is an opportunity to move, speak, look, act, and briefly live like someone else. I even treat my professional life that way; I get a truly embarrassing kick out of being the regular human coworker at the water cooler that also likes sports.

LOOK HOW NORMAL I AM

Maybe a part of that is the rush that I experience from fooling people around me into thinking I'm "good enough" to keep a job, have social skills, or fulfilling emotional relationships. Maybe it's the counterweight that the edginess of burlesque offers to an otherwise perfectly normal life. Maybe I'm just scared of having to experience and sort through the feelings and experiences that come with each day on my own.

Whoa man. That went right into the abyss.

Cool!

Anyway, I think there's an intangible value in feeling like you're in demand. If people want you to do things, it would be selfish to deny them what they want, right? But I'm feeling lately like taking some time to be a regular life person should be a way for me to get re-centered, re-prioritize everything in my life, and remind myself why I love performing. Regaining some perspective might help me get back there.

"Masculine" Burlesque and Self-Deprecating Humor

I was scrolling through my performer Facebook like I usually do, when I came across a thread posted by fellow performer Dangrrr Doll that caught my attention. Since I love reading about contentious topics and the oft debated "why we do this" ideologies of burlesque performance, I was inspired to write on it myself.

It's no coincidence that Dangrrr, a terrifically accomplished burlesque performer who I occasionally get to share the stage with, habitually critiques the way we present our concepts on stage. I've even featured her on this blog before, so with that in mind, here's the original post;

In the class I teach here in Boston (now in its fourth installment), this is the core concept I build from--masculine movement, masculine character building, masculine stripper moves, masculine kazoo concertos, masculine giraffe husbandry, etc. It's really the only thing I can speak to as an expert, since it's at the heart of every piece I write and perform. And based on the varying levels of comfort of the men I know in burlesque, it's not always a focal point of everyone's act construction, though for my own students, I like it when they take my lead and make it their own.

When I first sat down to talk with Stratton McCrady and Robin of the "Acting Out" project, Robin was surprised to learn that I was a straight male performer doing burlesque. Even though operating on the pretenses that most burlesque performers are queer to some degree (or that any men who perform burlesque MUST be gay) isn't an unsafe bet, it does beg the following question:

"What does a straight man performing burlesque look like?"

I dunno, this?
Photo by Roger Gordy

While straight men aren't a rare commodity in most walks of life, we are somewhat unrepresented in burlesque. I've found that most straight men don't have any idea how to move like a man might, to say nothing of how to break into the burlesque scene in the first place. As I've alluded to before, I learned most of my first striptease movements from Rogue Burlesque founders Dixie Douya and Bustee Keaton, and those movements weren't exactly....masculine.

After a year or two of figuring out what I wanted to change, I decided to spend some time and effort learning how to walk, crawl, posture, and pose myself as a masculine character. And for several years now, I've spent a lot of time watching myself in the mirror and making changes as needed.

But taking it back a little, I've found that men who jump onto a stage to perform instinctively gravitate toward one tendency; self-deprecating parody. It's almost like there's an expectation for a man to get on stage and put himself down to make himself feel accepted by the audience. It's weird, but I understand it. I used to do it a lot.

Like, an uncomfortable amount.
Photo by Stratton McCrady, Acting Out!

If I've learned one thing about teaching men striptease, it's that men don't have a default "sexy" set of movements. If I ask a new guy in my class to walk around and move like a suave, ladies-man type for the purposes of an exercise, he will almost always include a section where he's pantomiming an aggressive rejection (possibly involving getting a drink thrown on him). Selling confidence, success, and attractiveness in movement is terrifying for many men, and I suspect, a huge reason why they might want to take my class in the first place.

I'll give you an example. Sway Bradbury mentioned that "embarrassment/shame is all about maintaining your masculinity in moments of vulnerability; i.e. your pants fall down and you feel shame, portraying your nudity as something you feel negatively towards and understand should be hidden. Whereas in high femme burlesque, what I consider classic burlesque, nudity is something you revel in. That vulnerability isn't embarrassing, it's empowering."

That's real. If a guy is on stage and acting out a scene where his shirt and pants are suddenly missing, he's embarrassed, he's shy, and his first move is to cover it up. That same scene acted out by a woman? She's suddenly the one in control. She's sexy, intense, and using that as her weapon.

I want to say that this has to do with the power dynamic of burlesque and how it contrasts with the power dynamic of a gendered society. Should straight men naturally feel like they need to approach burlesque cautiously, and justify their presence in the space with a few jokes made at their own expense? Maybe that's just the price of entry. But I think there's something else hiding there.

I think it has more to do with the fact that men are raised without the burden of having their sexuality constantly available for consumption, a benefit that women don't have the option of. At every turn, women are expected to be sexy and have a way to market themselves constantly with every choice they make in their waking lives. A lot of women I talk to about burlesque performance use the stage as a way to claim ownership of their sexuality--especially since there's so much unjustified entitlement to it in the outside world, perpetrated by media, industry, and random men on the sidewalk. Since men never have to experience this, they don't know what to do in a situation where the expectation turns to them.

"IT'S ALL MINE!"
Photo by Ben A Johnson

The result of this is that straight men on stage have to get naturalized to the concept of being objectified. Even after all these years of performing striptease, whenever I get an aggressive compliment from a stranger about my sexiness on stage, my gut tells me to feel flattered. What I don't feel is guarded, defensive, or threatened. I don't think I'll ever understand what it means to be truly objectified, and that vulnerability is something I could never learn or teach.

Straight men aspiring to perform with sexual and vulnerable burlesque on stage require a bigger understanding of this, myself included. It's that knee-jerk answer that I get from every guy that I talk to about potentially jumping on stage to perform burlesque: It's the "I'm not in good enough shape" response which signals that most of us fellas aren't even remotely conscious of what the concept of sexual desirability is for a male-facing audience--which would explain why gay male performers have a better understanding of the concept. We straight guys instinctively assume that we just have to be hot and show up, and only then can we perceive the ironic vulnerability of what it means to be objectified.

Or, barring that, we could make intentional fools of ourselves to garner favor from the audience. Comparatively, that certainly does seem like a less scary option.

Person About Town with Kenice Mobley!

Good morning!

I'm not writing a full-length post today, but I wanted to share with you a podcast that I was featured on recently with one of my favorite local comedians, Kenice Mobley.

In the Boston burlesque world, there's a lot of crossover with comedy, sideshow, and circus, which affords me the opportunity to meet lots of people who are amazing performers in other disciplines. Kenice asked me to be her interview subject for Person About Town, which is a fun, informal sit-down interview show where she conducts interviews with different people at their favorite Boston hangouts.

In the episode, we talked a lot about male burlesque; points of distinction, highlights, pet peeves, accidentally punching other performers in the face, costuming, that one time each of us were in a strip club, and why the tofu at Christopher's is the bomb.

I'd be happy if you took a few minutes to listen in!

Selfie-Promoting

I always told myself I was never going to be one of those people. You know the type. The burlesquer with 15 selfies a day on Instagram, complete with hashtags so obscure that there's no hope in hell they'll ever catch on (#glitterinmycoffee).

"We need to have a selfie intervention with you," my brother said to me, as I wistfully contemplated the social-media-enabled serial selfie posting persona I'd since become.

"Why did you post that? It has nothing to do with anything," he said, referencing the photo below.

It has plenty to do with my big, stupid face.

I mean, he was right. I was just at a cool-looking rest stop somewhere in New Jersey, and I wanted to photograph myself with it so I could put another notch in my #traveldale hashtag. I wasn't performing, and it wasn't a particularly moving piece of artwork. But since when the hell did that matter?

In general, I'm pretty satisfied with how I use my performer Instagram account. Relentlessly photographing myself with other performers and in fun, new locations isn't a super-important part of my personal life, but it's something I get to do and it's a tool I can use as a performer. When you're on stage a lot, I've found that people kind of dig what you're doing and where it takes you. And of course barring any qualified raison-d'etre, you don't really need to justify posting photos of stuff. That's just kind of what our generation does.

Truthfully, if my IG and FB accounts disappeared tomorrow, it wouldn't shake me to my core (to say nothing of my blog). I'd probably just go merrily about my life, albeit with fewer people at my shows. Ever since Anja Keister showed me how to use Instagram and chastised me with "Where are more posts?" in my first lackluster week as a user, I've felt a subtle obligation to check in with the world via mediocre photography.

Pictured; Motivation.

After all, fans like when you do that. Other performers like when you do that. Random strangers with Russian lettering on their profiles that I can't read also like when you do that. As someone who performs burlesque, it's worth noting that 90% of the marketing I do for my shows and performances is through social media.

When I post a photo of myself in my stage getup, or show a hint at a routine I might be working on with a carefully-orchestrated costume shot, I know that someone out there is getting excited about what I've got planned. When I post a photo of Sirlesque goofing off backstage, I know that followers are getting to see us in our element, and in some small way, becoming a part of it. When I take photos with other performers I share the stage with, I get to introduce them to my little piece of the world back in Boston, and write a short, visual memoir of the amazing time I had.

I'm sure this was exciting to someone.

And like all performers, I feel like I am entitled to a little vanity, if only because it's expected. Another reason on top of that is that it makes clear business sense. If Lilith Beest and I hadn't been picked up by a high-traffic IG account (Monsters Holding Bitches, if you're curious), I doubt we would have sold out "They Live; We Strip - A John Carpenter Burlesque Tribute." The impact of being proactive with our marketing and social media could not be denied.

In retreating back to the personal, Corinne Southern, a burlesque producer and performer from Providence, Rhode Island, gave me the purest version of the IG selfie appeal.

"People like to feel like they are part of the backstage action. I think it makes your audience feel like they have a personal connection with you," she said.

Corinne Southern

Although backstage areas all sort of blend together into the unremarkable after a while, it's kind of important to realize that very few people actually get to have that access. When people are doing makeup or putting on costumes, the process is personal, and the area restricted to performers only.

As someone who very rapidly made that transition, I was fortunate to have never really experienced the exclusion, so I just assumed it wasn't a huge deal to share those photos. But lots of other performers tell me it is, for their fans.

Again, I don't see why this is a highlight for anyone.

Then there's the photos that show us we're vulnerable. I know that for a lot of people (not just performers), selfies are a way of ensuring that we like the photo that contains our likeness. When people are taking photos OF you, you don't really have much control over what the photographer chooses to display. It's for precisely that reason that I wasn't aware that I had criminal levels of duckface in all my performances until it was far too late.

At least with selfies, you can make your image truly your own.

Once I started really getting into the swing of things with DAMYS, the advertising became a bit more focused on me. Despite my protests, the people around me were telling me that my likeness was just as important to selling the concept as the name in the title. Seeing as how so many of us are somewhat unhappy with our self-image to an extent, you can see my own struggle with this fading away as the years went on;

Episode 1

Episode 2

Episode 3

Episode 4 (upcoming!)

So in that way, I can see how self photography feels safe. And while I wouldn't use a selfie for promo, it's been a way to compare what I think I look like to how other people see me. That in itself has been a learning experience.

Although, please reel me in if I start to go overboard.

I will never apologize for how awesome this photo is, however.

Performance Travelling Overstimulates Me

I'm sitting in the BWI airport on the return leg of my trip to Washington DC, where I spent the weekend joining the Evil League of Ecdysiasts (a burlesque producer duo comprised of Gigi Holliday and Cherie Sweetbottom) for "Whedonism," their annual Joss Whedon tribute show. For the record, this weekend was a ton of fun and I wanted to share that with you. If you're a Whedon nerd and find yourself in Washington DC about this time next year, I would highly recommend you clear your schedule.

I also had a lot of downtime to think about things this weekend, on account of this being my first air-travel trip to another city to perform. I was simultaneously excited and flattered to have the chance to do it, and Whedonism was quite the experience. Cherie had asked me to bring up my "Spike" and "Captain America" acts, which are two of my personal favorites, and then brought me out to see Hot Todd Lincoln host his monthly show the next evening at the Bier Baron (a hotel/bar venue I had never been to despite many DC trips previously). All in all, I got to have an exciting weekend and meet a new community of great performers I wouldn't have had the chance to meet otherwise, and to get to know a performance scene I'd only heard great things about.

They let me do Spike! With Miranda Lookinglass as Cordelia.

For those of you who know my dad, you'll know that he's not the biggest fan of what I do 'on the weekends.' But since he's a huge fan of Buffy and an even bigger fan of Billy Idol, (and it happened to be Father's Day) I called him up to tell him about how much fun the whole show was, and that I loved him and might show up to family dinner in costume. That's how excited I was about this whole trip.

So what were the things I thought the most about in transit? I'm glad you asked.

In many places, male burlesque performers are a rarity.

I wasn't sure what to expect form the male performers in the nation's capital, but I kept having this idea that there were a lot of them. Having been to DC several times prior to visit my brother when he was living there, I knew that there was a vibrant gay scene, and burlesque performance tends to go hand in hand. With that said, the only male-presenting burlesque performers I met were relatively new; Baron Atomy and Danny Cavalier were two that I had met in person, the former whom I watched do a brand new concept-fresh-to-stage ice cream man strip followed immediately by a fire performance. I'd never seen a fire performance done indoors, and wasn't expecting that--but local laws and the venue both seemed cool with it (see what I did there?).

I got a similar feeling when I first performed with Lady Luck Burlesque in Portsmouth, NH. Sometimes, you are the only guy in the room, and the crowd and other performers will be looking to you to show them what a guy doing burlesque looks like. I decided that I do kinda like being an ambassador in that regard. I'd better not get caught slippin'.

...or else you'll have to sit on the ground near a bus station. With a newspaper. Or something.

Travelling is tiring/requires planning.

Two things that I'm diametrically averse to are planning things (more on this later), and being exhausted. I don't know why this always happens, but travelling makes me just want to nap. Thanks to Cherie Sweetbottom who suggested an afternoon nap time on Saturday, as this is exactly what I wanted. Work beckons and all that, but sleep is great too.

I knew I had to try and maximize my activity while I was out of town to both take advantage of my journey and to combat the costs of travel, and that required some advance planning. I'm notoriously shitty at managing my schedule, but was able to offer some available wisdom for aspiring male performers in the area. 

The point of travelling to do burlesque gigs elsewhere is truly self-defined.

I was asked by Chip Rox why I felt compelled to go to another city to do the same acts I do on Boston's stages. Was I not satisfied with being relatively in-demand in my home town?

I had to really think about this. Is it fulfilling to travel to new places and give them their first experience of what you're all about? Absolutely. Is it fun to see other performers and what ideas they have for the stage? Most definitely. Is it fun to broaden your performance network, make new friends, and connect dots between prevailing reputations and performers in the flesh? Hell yes.

But what I think is most satisfying for me is getting to be a key piece of someone else's vision. It's the most flattering thing for me to know that someone else needs what I'm about to bring, and to be humbly in service to a production that calls to you from across the expanse.

That might have been the most delightfully tacky way to say it, but I don't think I can do better. You're welcome?

I was fortunate to not have had to travel in this manner specifically. Pictured; The Expanse.

You're really limited in how you promote yourself when you travel.

I felt like being in DC was a unique experience, in that I couldn't really market myself or the show I was in too effectively, since I didn't know anybody in town. The two people I was previously familiar with prior to this were both in the show alongside me. So in that regard, I had to let go.

Producer me was silently panicking about it, since I know filling seats is in everyone's best interest. But in the end it turned out okay, everyone got paid, nobody died, and I think even some people had fun. And that's pretty neat.

When I was in Provincetown, I saw two performers I had met previously who were getting their hustle on outside the venue. While it makes more sense in a tourist destination like Provincetown to hand out flyers to fill your own seats, it's not always a viable tactic in every town you go to. 

"HEY NEW YORK, COME TO THIS SHOW I'M DOING! YOU'LL LOVE IT!!"

Getting to travel to do shows rings the ego bell, and I gotta keep that in check.

As a rule of thumb, you should always be grateful for opportunities that come your way, and I'm perpetually surprised and flattered that people like the work I do and want to see it again and again. Since I started visiting other cities, I've found myself repeatedly self-assessing the person I was and still am becoming. Prior to this trip, I had several moments when I was faced with the choice of whether or not to go and do a gig out of town, and without thinking, checked my schedule to see if I could, and then said I would as soon as I knew I could. I've been finding myself saying more and more frequently things like "they need me, so I have to go," which on the surface feels like a selfless choice to help a producer out with his or her vision. It took some raw moments of honesty with myself to realize that this is something my ego sees as a way to win some new source of reputation and recognition, and that I need to make sure I'm giving the 'why' enough thought before I jump right in and commit.

One of the consequences of not doing that is that it teases out some negative aspects of my personality, and I have to be super aware of those little demons as I recognize them; self-importance, overconfidence, feeling needy for attention, boastfulness, deafness to the needs of others, and those who are important to me.

Ultimately, I have to keep reminding myself that burlesque is really just a fun hobby, and that we all love the attention we get from being on stage. We're not feeding and clothing the poor, and most of us are not making enough to call it a good living. It's a good exercise in awareness for me, and I gotta be better about doing it.

Yummy Hearts and I were not on our way to a clothing drive, nor a soup kitchen.

Some afterthoughts;

Although I wrote the majority of this after having left DC, I've since revisited and edited this after a weekend with Liberty Rose and crew in Philadelphia. All of it still rings pretty true, with the added note that I'd never performed at a con before (look up #toomanygames2016 or #broadstreetburlesque if you're curious), and that I hadn't found a better home for my Link character from Legend of Zelda. Seriously, there was so much love in that room for all of the Smash Brothers characters, and I felt it so intensely. A group of dudes all came up to me and asked if we could all take a group shirtless photo, and it was a level of brazen boldness I'd not yet seen from fans. I've just never experienced that kind of character fanaticism before, and it was amazing and humbling at the same time.

I also realized that a big part of travel is getting to experience a place, but not in quite the same way you would as a standard tourist. Burlesque performers generally have a similar taste in bars, restaurants, and activities, and I really enjoyed rolling deep as fuck with fierce performers like Liberty Rose, Dangrrr Doll, Margot Starlux, Hattie Harlowe, Morrighan Oh Tulle, and others to the nearest taqueria bar to eat soy tacos and play Ghostbusters pinball. And thanks for taking me to Wawa. I still don't quite understand, but at least I have the experience to dwell on.

Getting a first time Wawa experience courtesy of Liberty Rose. It was gentle and sweet.

Some musings on bus travel;

Bus travel pros; you can sleep, you personally don't have to deal with traffic.
Bus travel cons; Unpredictable schedule, wifi does not work as promised, guy in front of me who jacked his seat back all the way.
Bus travel chaotic neutral; Every rest stop had a Popeye's or a Burger King, which both excited and nearly destroyed me.

Finally, something I realized about being on the road was that I was going to miss all the good shows in my hometown while I was gone. While I was Spike on stage in DC for "Whedonism," my friends back in Boston were putting on another wildly successful "Once More with Pasties" Buffy burlesque show and I didn't get to see it. I also missed the "Burlesque Against Humanity" show put on by my friends at Rogue Burlesque, and I never like missing their events.

But while I was sad about missing those incredible shows, I also know that they're not the last shows I'll ever see, and that it's just as important to put time into being a fan as it is in furthering your own stage rep. Thank you all for sitting through my proverbial projector show about my glamorous vacation, and I wish safe travels to the rest of you.

How to Interact with Performers - A Guide for Audiences

Prologue - Honestly, I thought I published this three weeks ago. Brandy Wine of Rogue Burlesque sent me a message suggesting I write about this topic, and I almost smugly responded that I had, before realized that, oh shit, I forgot to insert pictures and click 'publish.'

In summation, I am a complete space cadet.

And this is how I dress when I embrace that part of me.

Sirlesque's newly-acquired Sir Lucky Charming texted me asking if I was planning to put together a guide for patrons of burlesque about how to interact with performers, and until he asked, I hadn't given it much thought. It would make sense to build that out a little more, since I've written about how people react to performance, and the awkward and difficult situations it sometimes puts us in. So I thought I'd go for it, as it would be a nice change from the performance-focused writing I tend to publish.

Since then, I'd finished producing and hosting a show in tandem with my friend Lilith Beest called "They Live: We Strip" which was a John Carpenter themed burlesque show. The show went phenomenally well and we sold out the theater, though we did have a few hiccups that were tied directly to fans interacting inappropriately with performers. So I think this topic is timely enough.

Here's what happened.

Lilith and I had planned on doing an audience participation based costume contest at the midpoint of the show. We had introduced it, and asked if people were in costume (typically, people shout or make a cheer when you ask them questions). An audience member who was in costume, albeit not one that was even remotely on-theme, came up on to the stage and began a character monologue, and resisted most attempts at diffusing.

It finally ended when Lilith said "that's great, and we were going to say that you should tell us about it DURING INTERMISSION!"

What, these two characters couldn't retain control of their own show?

Disregarding the sad fact that this person was our only entrant, he did break a few key rules of how audience members should interact with performers, and it gave me a lot of insight on the topic.

For easier consumption, I'll post my main takeaways in the style of an easy-to-swallow listicle below.

1 - Do not disrupt the show.

Burlesque shows are loud and outrageous by nature, but this isn't by any means a grant of permission to walk onto the stage, talk to the emcees, touch or approach any of the performers, or heckle. There are situations where the audience members are invited to be involved, but that's usually curated and doesn't require your embellishments, no matter how much alcohol you've had. I've seen both new patrons and seasoned performers break these rules, and it only makes everyone uncomfortable.

2 - Keep interactions limited and polite both before/after the show.

As a performer and producer, I'm often a total mess before shows I'm working, and have easily 19 or 20 or 417 things that I need to do which are necessary to make the show happen. I also happen to be too polite to interrupt someone who has been talking to me for 15-20 minutes to tell them this and often have to be pulled away by another person who has something that needs to be addressed.

Before most shows, performers have to do makeup, tech runs, blocking, logistical planning, scripting, and taking stock of costumes and props, and don't have all that much time to talk.

After shows is usually the better time to talk to performers. For me, that's usually when the wave of adrenaline from the performance cancels out my extreme introversion and makes me excited to talk with complete strangers and fellow performers. But usually, if you don't know someone who you've watched perform, it's customary to say hello, introduce yourself, chat about the piece you did or some related topic, and then bid them a good evening.

It's always rude to interrupt people while they're talking (performer or not), but I've still had randos crash into conversations I'd been having with someone else, post up directly between me and the person I was talking to and just start saying words. Once, I had someone snap their fingers in front of my face to get my attention. As a former waiter, I have some serious trauma attached to that. Please don't ever do that.

...Regardless of whether or not I'm actually dressed as a waiter.

On that note, the next point is about boundary crossing.

3 - Do not, under any circumstances, harass or touch performers inappropriately.

I hear tons of stories from my fellow burlesque performers about show-goers who, for whatever reason, feel the need to make inappropriate comments or advances. Sometimes, fans get grabby.

One time, I was chatting with a small group of people after a show, and a group of drunk, middle-aged ladies started grinding their butts against me. I did not know these ladies, and I believe it was an overt ploy to get my attention. I ignored it, and one of them kept doing it with increasing levels of aggression until I was completely displaced from where I had originally been standing. Who does that?

Lots of people assume that since you're baring your body for them, they have carte blanche to treat you like an object. I don't know why this is, but it's not cool.

Everyone in this photo has explicit permission.

4 - Don't be mean directly or by proxy.

It gets mad awkward. For everyone.

The standout story that Lucky Charming told me was that after a performance he did, some bro-dude came up to him to tell him something to the effect of "I'm not gay, but you're a good performer," and then proceeded to tell him he "needed to work out" so he can be hotter on stage.

A lot of times, people feel  the need to tell performers about the other people in the show they didn't like or thought were ugly, not realizing that for the most part, we're all friends and hang out with each other.

If you feel the need to body shame or tell someone you hated their stuff, here's what you do. You go outside, whisper your feelings into an empty glass bottle, and then smash yourself over the head with it.


5 - If you'd like to take a photo or have some strange individual request, simply ask if it's okay to do.

This one time after I did an act at one show years ago, a pretty lady in a red dress came up to me, handed me a sharpie, and asked me if I could sign her breasts. So I did.

Another time, a gentleman approached me after a show and asked me if I would like to make out with him. I respectfully declined, and it was totally fine.

In both of these situations, someone asked for permission to do something, and both situations were totally fine and normal. See how easy?

It's much easier than what is pictured here.

In general, performers open themselves up and give the audience a kind of vulnerability. I've found that most people don't have the desire nor the fortitude to do burlesque, and many folks prefer to remain audience members as far as their willingness to participate. This has its own set of obligations and responsibilities, and as performers, we always appreciate mutual respect and curiosity.

I know I've missed one or two things that producers and performers would advise audience members, and I'd love to hear from you all about what rules are important to you. From the audience side, I'd also like to know what some of your interactions with performers were like, and the impressions it left you.

Have fun!

How do I book more shows?

In my second amateur class that I taught for Dale's All-Male Yardsale, one of the new performers asked me a great question that I hadn't considered speaking about before.

"How do we get out into the community and start booking ourselves?"

While I gave the question the best answer I had at the time, I felt like there was a lot more to talk about on the subject. Yes, being put on stage is a great first step and is a wonderful way to make an impression with people who produce shows who might be in the audience. After all, six of the performers at my first amateur showcase went on to book other engagements.

But the more I talked to other producers in the burlesque scene both locally and far-reaching, I kept coming across prevalent attitudes, beliefs, and conditionals that I'm confident most new performers don't know.

While discussing post-show networking with fellow Sir Danny Drake, he told me something that stuck with me; "If I meet you after the show, introduce myself, shake your hand, compliment your act, and your response is 'I've been drinking and I probably won't remember your name,' it's a safe bet that I immediately don't want to work with you."

A first impression is that important.

..so you'd better make it a good one.

Another thing that performers of all experience levels tend to forget is that producers and fellow performers vouch for the ones they like. All too often, I hear about how one performer did/said/dumped glitter on/farted near someone who had some pull in the local burlesque scene, and now that person is universally banned from performing based on the power of rumor and the unwillingness of anyone to bring up the subject directly with the offending party.

Whether or not that's fair depends on the circumstances, but it unequivocally mandates that good behavior is important.

The other side of that is something I'm proud to have experience with. If you end up booking gigs with a variety of different shows and producers, people will begin recommending you to others. For the record, there's really nothing more flattering than being contacted by a new producer who only knows you by reputation. If you're recommended because enough people think of you as reliable, friendly, and a good contributor, you're bound to find yourself in new locations with crazy props and outfits on your saucy bits that you never before thought possible.

Like soccer balls!

And then you get the performers who have inexplicably awful attitudes. One of my producer friends and the official MC of Sirlesque, Allix Mortis, is constantly on the receiving end of emails from performers who feel the need to be extremely unprofessional in how they reach out.

"There's a give and take in any professional relationship - no one is entitled to be in any particular show and a producer at the end of the day is accountable - both financially and artistically - for their show," Allix told me.

Now I don't intend to disparage burlesque as an artform here, but if 70% of all available gigs in any given town are on a carpeted stage in the back of a dive bar, you don't get to be a diva about not being booked. Having a childish attitude won't impress anyone.

Some basics, if you're thinking about reaching out to a producer asking to get booked;

#1 - Be polite and professional with how you reach out. Again, first impressions count for a lot. I asked Allix about the kinds of opening inquiries and emails they get from different performers;

"What matters to me when someone approaches me about being cast in a show is that they're polite, give me a sense of who they are, and let me know that they know a bit about my show."

"I've received form responses (and you can always tell when someone is just copy/pasting to a bunch of producers), informal notes with lolspeak and emojis, and messages that also presume that I'll just accept the person. ("In your show I"m going to do...")"

"In my book the worst things you can do when writing someone about a casting are: be rude or give away that you don't know anything about their show."

"I've never been to or heard of your show, but I assume it's just like a Gilad workout video?"

#2 - You are in no way entitled to be a part of any show. You don't get in automatically because you asked, and you aren't allowed to throw a temper tantrum if you don't get your way. This goes for new performers, but should especially never happen with performers who have been performing for some time. Allix explained;

"If the producer doesn't have a spot for you, be gracious. Name calling or trash talk or 'you're missing out' (all things I've received, or, witnessed) are really uncalled for. Not everyone is right for every show - castings are also often done months or weeks in advance."

Allix Mortis

#3 - A producer doesn't owe it to you to create a show for you to be in, just because you happen to be in town.

This is an odd one to have to mention, but sometimes there's an expectation that the burlesque community in the city you're travelling to is going to reconfigure itself to fit your travel plans. I don't know if this comes from a sense of misguided celebrity, or because of unchecked entitlement, but some folks act this way every now and again.

#4 - Be gracious, even if there isn't a spot for you.

Allix mentioned this one earlier, but it's worth having its own bullet on the list. Producers book people they like and who have made a positive impression on them, and it's super important not to take it personally.

"AAAAUGH!! YOU'VE CRUSHED MY SPIRIT! Bwuuuuubuuuu..."

It might be really tempting for people who have been performing a while to want to show off their feathers, but accolades are only impressive if someone else is reading them about you (or proclaiming them passionately to the audience you're about to perform for!). As producers, we all talk about performers who have reached out to us--but we talk more about the performers we love and who we plan to reach out to again. It's way more fun.

I make it a point to thank everyone who performs for me, and to thank producers who book me into shows. When you get right down to it, it's a cosmic, crazy, and improbable thing that we get to do this kind of performance, and that people are willing to pay to see it. As a producer and as a performer, it's important not to take that for granted.

Male Costuming; The Big Differences

I used to kind of suck at sewing.

I suck a little less now, mostly because I learned a few things along the way out of necessity. People like Malice in Wonderland, Ricky Lime, and even Chip Rocks's mom helped to teach me a few things about how to make and assemble passable costuming. If we played "Oregon Trail," I wouldn't volunteer to be the tailor for the party, but I still feel infinitely more capable than I did when I first started burlesquing--and I am fairly confident that I would not die of dysentery. For that I am grateful.

While dudes typically don't have intricate costuming needs, the most successful burlesquers I know have a working knowledge of how to put outfits and costumes together. Not only that, but the truly great performers like Luminous Pariah know how to make them jump right out at you. Sequins, glitter, rhinestones, and the like aren't often a big part of what makes a dude look masculine on stage, but being under the lights requires you to make yourself more noticeable, and you do that in any way you know how.

This isn't to say you don't play to your strengths when and where they are. One of my earliest memories of costuming as a performer was driving down to Northampton, MA to be a part of Hors D'oeuvres's Bon Appetit Burlesque. During the drive down, Jack Silver, Chip Rocks and I were learning how to sew tear-away red, white, and blue boxers for our "Presidential Undress" number. Also, I was sick that day and had to request that we pull over so I could throw up the entire drive down. But we made passable costuming, and we still use those same boxers half a decade later.

With some help from our good friend Duct Tape.

When Anja Keister came down to Boston to sit on my amateur showcase as a guest judge, she gave a lot of the guys feedback that I didn't think to give out before;

"The audience shouldn't be able to tell what brand of underwear you're wearing on stage."

Come to think of it, she was absolutely right--it's distracting as all get out. While not specific to male striptease, it is something men are generally less aware of. And that's only one bit of advice I wholeheartedly agree with.

So glitter, makeup, and sparkly accents notwithstanding, what are the huge differences in costuming?

Pasties. or nipple coverings, are a massive point of debate in the grand scheme of male costuming. Not for women, mind you--women are, for one odd reason or another, required to have them in order to perform burlesque (though I have seen a few legal exceptions here and there).

But a lot of men do consider wearing them, mostly out of principle. And it's important to know why this is an important consideration.

"Sometimes it just accentuates the character or story I'm portraying (like, of course a leprechaun would have gold nipples). But there are also a few producers in New York who require men to cover their nipples, since the law requires women to, to create an equal playing space" Lucky Charming told me.

Lucky Charming

And since male burlesque is a cornered market here in Boston, I realize that I've enjoyed the privilege of inadvertently setting that standard, having learned about men covering their nipples only just last year. Ergo, it never occurred to me that I could be overlooked for a booking in someone else's show because I don't wear nipple coverings.

It's absolutely a critical consideration though. When coming from a place of fairness and solidarity, why should we be asking that women cover their nipples when men don't legally have to?

"WAIT STOP, I FORGOT TO PUT ON PASTIES!"

Makeup is another point of distinction that I find interesting. When I [Daytime Dale] worked at a television news station many moons ago, I first got to watch a male news anchor do makeup. The process was fascinating. Anyone experienced in theater knows that this is a requirement when the lights are on you, but stage makeup versus looking natural are two extremely different things. With that said, most men never learn the difference, and I only really became remotely aware that there was one by having the dual experience of working in TV and then moving into stage performance.

But men's makeup isn't super elaborate in burlesque, unless there's a particular character that calls for it.

Nailed it!

The makeup I tend to do is minimal, which might be more of a natural-looking attempt (as opposed to the loud, flamboyant makeup that lots of burlesquers prefer). Since Luminous walks this line pretty well with his own makeup choices, I asked him to tell me about where his inspirations come from.

"Ever since I was nine I've enjoyed playing with eyeliner. My eye was a slow evolution to what my look is now. It's been the same for about 5 years. I dig it for stage shows and change it up a little for photo shoots. It's part of my gender bending agenda," he told me.

One of the first things I noticed when I met Luminous for the first time was his uncommon use of fake eyelashes, and it's something I've begun to really associate with Lumi's brand--he tends to wear them above and below his eyes, which is a distinct look.

Luminous Pariah

For most men who want to appear masculine on stage, the general consensus is that some foundation, eyeliner, and a bit of blush is usually sufficient. I once had someone help me do a really elaborate sweeping blue cat's eye tapestry for my Aquaman character, and it was pretty magnificent (as opposed to Jason Momoa's goth undersea prince look). But for me, that's not the norm. More often than not, I find my makeup choices typically find me doing variations on masculine characters. The most extreme makeup I've done is either male old guy or male dead guy.

Truthfully, I don't feel super knowledgeable or capable as far as makeup or costuming, but I do recognize that it's an ongoing process. As with anything, you learn more the more you do it. When I had to have liquid latex done all over my chest in Cirque of the Dead two years ago to simulate an open chest wound, I found out the hard way that I reeeeeeally should have shaved my small tufts of chest hair first. The kind of pain that comes from removing bonded latex solidified with dried fake blood is something you never forget.

I was feeling good before that, anyway. Photo by Scott Chasteen.

I will give me and my guys some serious credit for one thing, though. We seem to have come to represent all tear-away clothing in Boston. While I've definitely gravitated away from the all-of-a-sudden-naked reveal of tear-away pants in exchange for a more sensual, ground-grinding pants reveal, it's clear that many of the performers I work with know that Sirlesque has 15-20 pairs of the things, and that we are constantly making more of them for ourselves. I've also hand sewn tear-away shirts that break away in a variety of styles and fashions, and it certainly feels like a skill that I've worked to develop. Add to that, it really does feel like a true point of distinction in costuming, and comes with its own theatrical style that isn't super prevalent.

And I'm sorta proud of that.