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.

Diversity on the Boston Burlesque Stage

Over the summer, the Sirs and I held auditions for Sirlesque, and the process was pretty fun. We got to see some new faces (and bodies) performing some new acts we had never seen, and ended up selecting a new dancer (Sammy Temper) and an official MC (Allix Mortis).   It wasn't until a couple weeks after we had wrapped the process that I noticed something I hadn't really paid attention to before.

When looking at photos for all of us, it occurred to me that Sirlesque was kind of....homogeneous. We're a group that lacks a specific kind of diversity.

I guess I never realized how...white...we were.

And me especially. Jeez.

Some of you out there might want to react with "wait, isn't part-time sir Willie Dumey black?" And yes, that is true. But one of the things that I started realizing over time is that the entire burlesque scene in many areas isn't super welcoming to a wide variety of performers of color. It's one thing to be open to the idea of having a broad spectrum of performers who reflect the population where you live, but it's another thing to consider why people of color don't feel drawn to the burlesque stage the way white people do.   So I thought I'd ask a few non-white performers what they thought about that.

I spoke with a few performers I admire who also happen to be non-white; Jolie Lavie, Sake Toomey, and Willie Dumey.

Jolie Lavie

Dale Stones; "So, as someone who is/presents as a non-white performer in a majority white performance scene, how did you come to define your role in Boston burlesque?"

Jolie Lavie; "I see my brand going in the direction of Vaudeville brown beauty loves 1979 in 2016. I want to be seen sexy and strong like Pam Grier with the business savvy of Ms. Josephine Baker."

Sake Toomey; "It's an ever-evolving process, especially considering my persona has changed greatly since I started 4.5 years ago. I had originally planned on Sake Toomey being a sexy ninja warrior and I've basically turned into the opposite. I'm always careful to not turn into an all-encompassing Asian stereotype/caricature, although my chosen stage name is definitely a tongue-in-cheek nod to my racial background."

Willie Dumey; "I am a little on the crazy side, a little unpredictable. I want to go higher, if someone goes gross, I get grosser. Someone wants crazy, I go crazier."

DS; "In a more general sense, how do you see the Boston burlesque scene's relationship with the concept of diversity?"

WD; "I put that stuff out of my mind because this is my escape. I could be negative and have a chip on my shoulder, but life is too short. I could talk about discrimination, I've definitely had that happen, but I gotta keep it away from my performance."

ST; "If we're speaking about racial diversity only, I think the Boston burlesque community as a whole is aware of how white it is. Everyone is in tune with the racial tension happening in our country right now and any commentary on the subject is (generally) well thought out. I'm so glad to see that there are several newcomers to the scene who are POC. I know this isn't part of the question, but I think it will be good for audience members to see more POC representation in the community as well. This past Slutcracker season, both cast A and B Fritz and Clara were POC, and it really made an impression on the audience in a good way."

Sake Toomey

JL; "We need more Asian, Indian, Hispanic burlesque dancers in Boston too. Part of this process is to make sure I stay sensitive to our differences and similarities, while keeping things sexy, fun, entertaining and most of all not insulting to anyone. I am in talks with Meff Leone about doing a Black Exploitation burlesque, right now part of this process is my asking Black people how they would feel about this type of show."

DS; "How do you feel that that kind of show would be received?"

JL; "I am getting 'Yes' from Black friends but the reality our audience is mostly white. Hence why a story like Coffy may work well because she kills everybody. Dolemite pimps the ladies out, no matter the color and I don't think any audience would be okay with a Black man pimping a woman out on any platform...My stories featuring Black men will put them in leadership sans crime roles, we have enough profiling in this country."

DS; "This one's for Willie: Is race something you think about, especially as the only male person of color in Sirlesque (and in a larger sense) one of a select few in Boston?"

Willie Dumey; "It has been a major factor in my recent step away from this last show (Stupid Cupid). Since I am one of Boston's few black burlesque entertainers, shoddy, unprepared acts will not cut it. I felt I really needed to represent up on that stage,"

Willie Dumey

WD (continued); "I'm actually hyper conscious of being an angry person--I don't want anyone to be in fear of me. I'm an older guy surrounded by 20-something year-olds, which means I feel added pressure to maintain my body. I'm an older black guy. Sometimes I'm so into a character, I often can't see what it looks like to a white audience. Remember that Zulu warrior act I did where I did that elaborate dance for the white king and queen?"

DS; "Yeah, I remember hearing different reactions of the folks around me. Everything from 'such a powerful act' to 'I can't watch this, it's crazy offensive.'"

WD; "When I talked to Dexter (Dix) after and asked him about that reaction, I remember him telling me 'Dude, you're black, you should know this.' I put that stuff out of my mind because this is my escape."

A white audience might assume we talked Willie into doing this.

DS; "One of the nagging feelings I experienced when holding auditions was that I wanted to have a more diverse cast in Sirlesque, but can't really add in more POC if they aren't coming out to perform with our group. Why do you think that might be?"

ST; "I don't think that POC are a minority in the Boston burlesque community intentionally. That's why I love Alterna-Tease. It just brings newness to the scene and such a range of talents, bodies and backgrounds. I think, also, it's going to be a slow burn, and as more POC find out about the scene it will become more diverse. Because I do think it can be intimidating for some people to try and join a community when the majority of that community is not like you (racially or otherwise)."

DS; "Is there anything else you might feel like sharing about POC in the Boston burlesque scene?"

ST; "I just hope to see more and more POC making their way into the scene, because representation matters. And I think it's really important for our audience to be able to see someone who looks like them on stage. And, selfishly, I'd love to walk into a venue for a show and not be the only nonwhite person in the cast."

JL; "I must say in my light research I have found that there are many black performers who are wanting to be part of the Boston Burlesque world. Who knew? My upcoming show will be called 'Black Love.' I am still in research phase."

Jolie Lavie

Near the end, Willie mentioned something I hadn't even thought about before. The added pressure of being the only one to represent an entire demographic on the burlesque stage in a given area raises the stakes considerably for putting out a good, memorable performance. We all try to distinguish ourselves in a variety of ways, but for non-white performers, race and outward appearance is already a noticeably distinct branding attribute that audiences are more apt to remember (e.g. "remember Willie? He was the only non-white guy in the cast.") If people are more likely to remember the performer, they are certainly more likely to remember that person's act, whether good, bad, polished, mediocre, or phenomenal.

We humans have a subtle magnetism that draws those of us who are like-minded and similar-looking together. By that same token, if you're one of only a handful of racially diverse performers in a largely white scene, there is a hyper-awareness that can occur. In performance, those differences are highlighted even further, and through many generations of social conditioning, we experience entertainment differently based on the shapes and colors of the people on stage.

I read a piece recently about the complexities of mourning celebrities who have committed sexual abuse. After reading this, I'm more certain now than I've ever been that majority white audiences look at black performers differently, and we absolutely don't treat them the same as white performers. In the media, we hear about white celebrities who are innovators, geniuses and extraordinary performers in their fields who are passively excused for sexual abuse (David Bowie, Peyton Manning, Roman Polanski, Elvis Presley) but are protected in career and legacy while black performers and innovators are not (Bill Cosby, R. Kelly). While sex abuse is not okay no matter what race the perpetrator is, we are far more likely to hold black entertainers and innovators in contempt and disparage their contributions to their fields of performance and their legacies.

Willie Dumey closed our conversation with something that gave me pause;

"I have to be friendlier and more up front because of what I am on the outside."

It's so easy to be in a room full of other burlesquers who all enjoy the stage, but I know that as a white performer, I am not wondering whether or not my temperament is under a magnifying glass. I wonder if that's not a possible explanation for my original question about people of color in the Boston burlesque scene.

Creating a welcoming and accepting performance scene is a job for everybody. While it isn't as simple as posting an "all are welcome" sign out front, it is important that we keep an open dialogue with our performers of every color, in an effort understand how to make Boston burlesque a truly representative space. 

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.

Imposter Syndrome

I came by this great article in the NY Times by way of Slate about something that has a ton of relevance for me as a burlesque performer.

Those of you who are already familiar with "Imposter Syndrome" will know exactly where I'm going with this.

To summarize, Imposter Syndrome is a term coined by American psychologists Pauline Clance and Suzanne Imes which is characterized by feelings of "phoniness in people who believe that they are not intelligent, capable or creative despite evidence of high achievement.” While these people “are highly motivated to achieve,” they also “live in fear of being ‘found out’ or exposed as frauds.”

"Guys, you should know that I'm not really a pilot, and have no business flying this plane."

Professionally (as in, when I'm not doing striptease), Imposter Syndrome is heavily rooted in my day-to-day. I sit expectantly at my desk, waiting for a supervisor to come by and tell me that they found out that I'm not actually any good at my job, and that I'm fired. Also, it isn't enough that I can't work there anymore, I have to also sign a form blackballing me from any other gainful employment, and oh yeah, everyone in the company is lining up outside my cubicle to punch me in the face for deceiving them.

So I need to periodically glance backward in time and remind myself that as an introvert, I've managed to scrape together a decent living introducing myself to and having conversations with people who typically want nothing to do with me. I've met with high-level business folks in New York City, shaken hands and done presentations and demos, and somehow came back with closed deals and signed paperwork. I haven't just gotten by, I've sorta thrived and gotten actually pretty good at something, got myself a nice apartment and a cool car, and one bad day every now and again won't cause those around me to see that I'm just a child in grown-up clothes pressing keys and saying words in meetings to maintain the illusion of productivity before I'm taken into custody and thrown in liar jail for being the giant con artist that I feel like I am deep down in my soul.

Burlesque is a more intense version of this.

"ALL YE GAZE UPON ME, FOR I AM A FRAUD!"

There are a lot of elements that contribute to this state of mind for me, all ingredients in the "doubt stew" that's been simmering on the back burner for as long as I've been performing. For starters, I'm one of a handful of male performers in a city where there isn't a lot of male burlesque. I've gotten a lot of work in the last 6 years based on the fact that I'm one of very few who is willing and able to fill roles as needed--I'm fairly certain that I've gotten gigs simply because I have blonde hair. The fact that burlesque is not predominantly a male artform has given me a lot of privilege towards landing gigs that might be better suited for a more capable performer, if only one was slightly more available.

Add to that the fact that burlesque is not a kind of performance that has a high level of professional recognition. There aren't all that many burlesque performers that have a self-sustaining career supported by their work in theatrical striptease. I've covered this idea in previous blog posts--while burlesque might be more mainstream than it's been in many decades, it's far from a way to make a comfortable living in the way that a great singer or actor might have the means to do. The point here is that we don't judge our own or each others' performances by any professionally accepted standard, save for feedback from the people we hold in the highest trust. Due to the way the burlesque environment is constructed, "being the best," in a nutshell, might just be low-hanging fruit.

Somewhat related to that is that the burlesque community tends to want to support its strongest members through blind encouragement rather than through objective criticism. I wrote about the worst act I've ever done a little while back, and while I could point out every reason why it wasn't a good performance, I still had plenty of people lining up to tell me how much they loved it.

"Sooo, what did you think of m--mrrrghhuuuugff..."

Mix all these together and introduce the result to a performer with my specific personality type, and it becomes pretty clear why I have a tendency to doubt my creative abilities. A big reason why I write this blog is to carry out the practice of being grateful, as gratitude is an extremely important counterweight against feeling generally undeserving.

My fellow Sir Danny Drake reminded me of how important this was earlier in the year. He was telling me that it's easy to feel like you're not doing well and to not recognize when you're making significant progress. And that's why it's important not to dismiss the compliments from others, but to simply acknowledge and say "thank you." Knowing that my instinct in these situations is to be dismissive towards compliments, I can confirm that he's absolutely right.

As with anything, practicing relentlessly creates the illusion of effortlessness. There have been times where I've performed an act so many times that, "dammit, I'm just going to go up on stage without having practiced and just do the damned thing," and it's turned out well. This happens on occasion despite my best efforts to rehearse thoroughly, and I always envision a scenario like this being the final straw for an audience already on its last nerve, exclaiming "Yep, it looks sloppy and unrehearsed. I knew that Dale Stones was a lackluster performer and now he's gone and ruined my evening. I'm going to hurl a tomato at him to express my dissatisfaction."

But you know who else feels this way? Don Cheadle.

Pictured; Imposter Syndrome in a straw hat.

For performers, I feel like some of it comes from a place of healthy humility. I realize that what I do is not a serious art form. Burlesque is fun, and it's entertaining, and it's enjoyable for so many people--but it's not life or death. If I mess up a reveal or if my dongle pops out, I probably won't do 15 years in prison.

But we MUST keep creating new art. While it's true that our art is unimportant in the grand scheme of things (this fact helps us not have an ego so big that we become impossible to be around without everyone hating you and wanting to punch you in the taint), it's equally critical to remember that what you're doing is just as important to somebody else. That burlesque act where you're dressed up as a bar of soap and are doing a partner striptease with someone dressed as a loofa? Someone out there is waiting patiently for you to do that act for them, because they've waited their entire life to see it.

So give it your best, because you absolutely deserve to be on that stage. If you weren't, you wouldn't be there. So go where you're going, and be where you are.

Performing for Largely Hetero Audiences

First of all, Happy Thanksgiving to all!

I wanted to write a bit about my experience with performing for crowds comprised mostly of straight men, as I've had a lot of unique and strong feels about it. Mostly excitement, but sometimes terror. I'd like to take you through that emotional process and where it all originates.

Women's burlesque performance is generally more well received for new audiences, due in large part to the socially-reinforced way women's sexuality is available for public consumption. Women are expected to be looked at and appreciated, regardless of the gender makeup of the audience. Both men and women will watch in adoration at female striptease, as it is acceptable to do so. I'm here to write about what happens when a male burlesque performer presents to a crowd of new, straight-ish people, because the reactions are often much, much different than the reactions that naturalized, familiar burlesque audiences display.

Such as leaning-accented casual indifference.

I was a bit on edge for a recent gig with Brandy Wine and Polly Surely of Rogue Burlesque, as it was the type of setting where burlesque didn't quite seem to fit the programming. As I alluded to in a previous post, this was a high-energy party where DJ's from around the country were gathering to drink and dance. We went down into the basement, which was its own party-hearty room, complete with dim lighting, beer spilled on the floor, poor sight lines, and every formality spared. I'd say it was an audience with an 80/20 man-to-woman ratio.

Needless to say, very few folks in the crowd were acquainted with burlesque. After our host for the night started explaining burlesque etiquette, you could absolutely hear the sarcastic chuckling. While I knew they were probably picturing a club-esque strip show, I doubted they were ready to factor me into their expectations. As I mentioned way back in the second paragraph, the onlookers were pretty amenable to seeing Brandy and Polly perform. When I stepped onto the floor though, there was an audible groan from many of the males in the room. I would estimate that about 1/3 of them immediately turned around and walked out.

In that moment, I saw a clear picture of what scares straight men about male burlesque. When I teach my class for new male burlesquers, I like to gradually introduce clothing reveals and let people opt out of ones they aren't (yet) comfortable with. To their credit, the guys in the class are usually willing to jump right in and do all of them, which is fantastic. I'm guessing that the mental re-configuring that happens when a group of men who have never met before begin to accept that they're about to be nearly naked in front of one other, they move past the head-space that my audience at this gig was stuck in. In essence, they were frightened.

Usually, the screaming is internal.

Since performers tend to draw energy from the audience they go on for, I can tell you that when this happens, it's often demoralizing. To that end, it manifests itself in a few different ways: In struggling to cope with the fact that they might have to watch another man strip, these men will usually show signs of physical discomfort--heads down, arms folded, groaning and audible commentary. James and the Giant Pasty of Boylesque T.O. (based in Canada) told me that at one show, a group of men in a bar lashed out and called him a faggot, which is the ultimate show of insecurity through aggression.

There was a point early on in my performance career where a reaction like this would have ruined me. Thankfully, I've had enough practice with the "show must go on" frame of mind that I'm usually able to compensate for situations like this. As a general rule, I focus my broader moves on the people who are having a great time, and I focus my specific audience work on the individuals who look the most uncomfortable.

Or in a pinch, anyone who is currently shrieking in terror. 

During my act, one man in the front of the audience buried his face in one hand in disbelief, as if one errant gaze upon my glittery pecs would turn him to stone (see what I did there?). I walked up to that one guy in the crowd, put my face about half a foot from his, waited for him to notice, and then gave a wave and a curtsy. He laughed just a little bit, and it got such a rise out of the crowd around him. I find that if you go for the hardest nut to crack, your success in getting the audience to join in the fun will have a ripple effect, and can often noticeably change the mood of the room.

Following from that, I'd like to talk to you about what happens after a performance like this. Due in large part to fragile masculinity (#masculinitysofragile if you're so inclined), straight men tend to conflate male burlesque performance with homosexuality or flirting. While it's not always a negative thing that some men will give feedback after watching a male burlesque performance, it can absolutely be derived from a place of awkwardness or insecurity. Picture any of these after a performance;

"I'm not gay, but....that was a good show/you were funny/I've thought about kissing a man/etc."
"Do you get a lot of gays/women/men hitting on you after you perform?"
"I saw more of you than I wanted to see, but you were pretty cool to watch."
"You were good, but you should work out more." (Lucky, thanks for sharing that last one)

"Look bro, I'm not gay or nuthin', but, uh....good
 job, there....dawg. Did I mention that I
 reeeeealy like the ladies?"

Some of you reading this will recognize these experiences as your own. But while icky on the surface, they can be a good starting point for having a strong, valuable discussion with a new fan about burlesque, body norms, and expectations around performers from the same/opposite sex.

I've learned that for every 20 dudes in an audience I perform for, one or two will come chat with me afterwards and will be completely awesome to talk with. After this gig, there were 3 guys that came to talk to Polly, Brandy, and myself, and wanted to reiterate that they had the best time at the show. While they were each initially confused about how to react, all of them individually had the wherewithal to figure out what they appreciated about the performance, what questions they wanted to ask, and the enthusiasm about discovering us and our scene afterwards. It was awesome.

For me, having just a couple people telling me what a great time they had makes it 1000% worth it. Bringing new people to future shows helps bring burlesque more and more into the mainstream, which benefits us all. I also love when other men feel inspired enough from burlesque to want to try performing themselves, as it's a major disruption to the power structures that influence masculine negativity (and bolsters our solidarity with our female counterparts).

And that's pretty rad.

Get Those Dollars Out

Since I came into burlesque in the Boston, I'd noticed that there was a very distinct performance culture here. Boston burlesque performers tend to be more theatrical, tend to bring the strange into the mainstream, and are generally group-oriented in how they advertise. It wasn't until I started performing outside of Boston that I began to realize that we had a very interesting stance on tipping, which is hardly reflected elsewhere.

I had been performing about 3 1/2 years before I was a part of a show where the patrons were asked to tip the performers.

I was definitely a little confused when I'd first heard the host setting that expectation with the audience. I wasn't against it per se; I did have a rudimentary understanding that making any kind of money as a performer was and always would be a hustle. I had worked restaurant gigs since I was 16, so I full well understood how tipping worked. I just had never been party to a producer linking that to performance.

As an integrated part of burlesque performing, the concept makes perfect sense. If the performer really blows your socks off, you throw them a bit of extra money to show your appreciation. Ergo, your performance can have an influence on how well you do that night. That's capitalism, baby!

"I mean, I thought that's how we were supposed to fix the economy."

It reminded me of the one time I accompanied a friend of mine who was about to be married to a strip club. The biggest thing that stuck out to me about the way the strip club's economy worked was that every part of our visit was commodified. There was a cover charge when you entered, you were expected to have smaller bills to tip the dancers, buying drinks had its own set of permissions and rates, and individual women were soliciting separate engagements from the patrons.

In this setting, it seemed to me that the actions of the performers were directly tied to whether or not a patron was luring them over with money. Initially, this seems like a different thing from burlesque performance entirely--you're expected to have a set of specific choreography with movements that comprise a routine. In order to have the right punch, your act has to be rehearsed and well timed. If you're collecting dollar bills every couple of seconds, it's hard to imagine that you can execute a planned set of dance moves. It would have to be more improvisational.

I performed at a gig recently with Brandy Wine and Polly Surely of Rogue Burlesque, and it was a paid event where tipping was encouraged. Although the crowd was a room full of drunk DJ's who were mostly dudes (I'll talk about performing for hetero males who are only experiencing their first burlesque show in a later post), there was a strong element of loud-crowd dollar-chucking appreciation, which has a slightly different feel than the whole "pass the basket in church" sort of tipping I had been acclimated with in other burlesque shows. It felt kind of like that scene in Magic Mike where Matthew McConaughey rolls around in dollars wearing a cowboy hat and a thong. It was a gritty kind of party atmosphere--which I kind of loved, not gonna lie.

Don't pretend you haven't seen it.

Because I was doing a routine that I had done about 40 times before, I felt like I had the ability to change things up when needed and accommodate the dollar bills being thrown around near me. I knew that I could skip one of my flourishes with my hat and instead bend over all sexy-like while scooping dollars up and stuffing them into my waistband. You know, the kinds of things that the layman associates with striptease.

Like glitter!

I was chatting with my friend Honey Pie, who I had performed with at a show a year or two ago where tipping was encouraged. The show itself was more of a "buy a $20 ticket, drink a ton to help us hit our bar minimum" sort of theatrical experience which was hosted by a character contributing to the performance, and so it wouldn't have made a ton of sense for people to leave their seats, approach the stage, and fling dollars at the performers.

"I feel like there is a time and a place for it. I have done shows with tipping but it has always been more of a Go-Go set in a night club than a show done in a theater where most of the patrons are sitting down watching a show," Honey told me.

"And I think that's where I don't feel like tipping should happen in Burlesque shows. Most of these shows patrons are paying more money to sit down and take in the beauty of the theater and performers. I myself don't want someone throwing money in crumpled up balls at me or walking up to the stage handing me money while I am up there working my ass of on the hours of choreography I have practiced and the time I put into making that costume look good for you. Sit back, drink and take in the show! I also don't like to see it while I'm taking in the sights of a performance on stage. It's distracting and takes away from the performance art," she said.

Honey Pie

Honey made a great point about gogo dancing, which, as I've learned from doing shows outside of Boston (most prominently D20 Burlesque in NYC with Anja Keister and friends, plug plug!), is pretty much the standard in-between and intro activity for burlesque shows. A dancer can make a good amount of tips doing largely improvisational choreography as a component of a burlesque show's program. But I would hesitate to call go-go dancing a burlesque performance. 

Burlesque, like any other artform, needs support from the patrons to continue. Burlesque fans and show-goers should have extra opportunities to support the performers they enjoy (aside from ticket revenue), and I think that having a gogo set or two and having a basket at every show is a great way for performers to continue to fund their costume, travel, and meal costs.

It's the "stuffing dollars into my underwear" aesthetic that makes me feel a little heeby-jeebly about performing certain engagements. It's a different implication entirely, which stems from what the average person might picture in club-based striptease--I've seen audience members get tossed from burlesque shows because their actions were clearly influenced by strip-club culture. Taking it a bit further, tipping mechanics have a great impact on proper boundaries, which are an inseparable component of burlesque striptease. Generally, most burlesque performers don't want you stuffing money into their clothing pieces, and won't hesitate to let you know it.

Tipping performers is a great thing, although I don't particularly like having to work it into my performance piece. Deciding what kinds of tipping mechanics work best for you in your own performances is a good thing, and I'd encourage you to share your own best practices with me.

Pop & Pasties: The Placement of Pop Culture in Burlesque

I'd like to do something a little differently tonight. Usually, I write my own material, but I thought I'd be lazy and outsource my originality for this post. In all seriousness though, I'm always curious to know what other performers are thinking, and I had been bugging my good friend Lucky Charming to write something for me on the topic of pop culture in burlesque performance.

Lucky Charming

To preface the discussion, I'd like to talk about the kind of relationship me and Lucky have. I had met him shortly after he attended Alternatease in Boston a few years back. Sirlesque had invited him back to do a show with us, and although I didn't get the chance to see him at Alternatease, his reputation did precede him in my mind. When he did end up coming back to Boston, he absolutely blew me away with what he brought to the stage ("Party in the TSA," if you're curious). Since then, we've had him back to visit and he and I have become fast friends.

As a 4-time GLAM Awards nominee and the creator of "Cootie Catcher," a one-man show which he's brought to Fringe festivals both in the United States and Canada, he's got plenty of credibility and mileage as a performer. Plus, I really appreciate his viewpoints on many topics, and wanted to highlight this one in particular. So without further ado, Lucky;

Over to you, hotshot!

Merriam-Webster defines burlesque as “a literary or dramatic work that seeks to ridicule by means of grotesque exaggeration or comic imitation. : mockery usually by caricature.” In the 19th century, these parodies typically targeted the theatre, opera, and other popular pastimes for the upper class. However, in the era of burlesque that we find ourselves in now, the caricatures that we see are more likely to depict figures that are more broadly consumed by the masses.

I’ve only been a member of the burlesque community for three-and-a-half years, and in that time I’ve seen hundreds of routines that portray superheroes, super villains, video games, and cartoons, and delivered in a way that is more of a tribute than a travesty. I see this as merely an indication of how our society has evolved; patrons are more interested in paying for performances that bring them to their happy place than those that are going to challenge them and remind them how chaotic the state of the world is. And I can’t say I blame them. 

That said, I’m a firm believer that burlesque is meant to challenge, as well as titillate. In it’s time of origin, being naked was enough to spark the senses. Now, a simple strip is nothing special. Naked people are everywhere…movies, magazines, you name it. I firmly believe that burlesque in general needs more than just nudity. If you simply dress up as a popular character and strip to make people squeal, you’re doing a disservice to your audience, your character, and your talent.

Yeah…I went there. (UNPOPULAR OPINIONS, ACTIVATE!)

...and stylishly, I might add. Photo credit; Christopher Gagliardi

By making any pop culture reference in your performance, you’re taking a risk in alienating your audience. Unless, of course, the entire show is a reference to a certain piece of pop culture. If someone purposefully attends a “Bob’s Burgers” tribute show, it’s reasonable to assume they’ve watched at least half of the existing episodes. But if you stick a “Bob’s Burgers” act into any old burlesque show, you can bet that a large percentage of the people aren’t going to get it. And they might be pissed. And the have every right to be. 

The audience wants to be in on your jokes. They want to laugh and cheer for you and with you. Don’t block them out by being too specific. To make such a move is naive at best, and arrogant at worst.

There are plenty of ways to pay tribute to the pieces of pop culture that bring you joy that don’t leave too many audience members behind. The first person to come to mind is Franki Markstone, whom I shared the stage with this summer in Orlando. She performed a delightful number inspired by “Harry Potter”. Aside from her use of the movie’s theme song (with segued, appropriately, into Heart’s “Magic Man”), a dress in the colors that fan’s would recognize as Gryffindor’s, and a strategically placed Golden Snitch, there was nothing super specifically Potter-ish about it. Most humans will recognize “Harry Potter” in this day and age, but on the off-chance they didn’t, it was still a beautiful, well-performed striptease that the whole family can enjoy.

Pictured; wholesome, family-friendly entertainment. Photo credit; Jenna Cumbo, Village Voice

This pleased me on so many levels. There was enough of a wink to the Potter fans to keep them happy, but enough dazzle that if you didn’t get it, it didn’t matter.

Oh, there be players that I have seen, and heard others praise and that highly**, who brought an act as a particular sci-fi character to a general burlesque show…a character I was very familiar with, I might add…and through referencing the most minute details of this character’s storyline, completely lost 90% of their audience within the first ten seconds. They cheered anyway, but I was infuriated on their behalf.

[**Shakespeare reference. Hamlet. Didn’t get it? Now you know how it feels to be alienated. Not so fun, huh?]

On the other hand, say you are performing in a show that pays tribute to a popular entity. It is safe to assume that the members of the audience are serious fanatics, and are anticipating a plentitude of inside jokes that only their fandom would get. In this case, by all means, go niche or go home.

But wait! Before you get down to business…do me a little favor. I’ve seen a lot of characters from film and television portrayed on the burlesque stage, and I notice that many of them have fallen into a formula: 

1. Dress up as the character

2. Pick a song that makes some joke about the character

3. Strip

4. End in a reveal that consists of some other joke about the character as depicted in a crotch piece.

Perhaps I only find this tedious because I, too, am a participant in this art form, but even if you have the most stunning costume imaginable for an act like this, it still has great capacity to feel…dare I say it? Lazy. Most pop culture acts I’ve seen are severely lacking in context. I love that this character is stripping, but I want to know why this character is stripping. I’m game to see Darth Vader naked, but like…why is he taking his clothes off in the first place? And even more importantly…why is he still breathing and functioning after he takes that breast plate off? Doesn’t that help keep him alive or something?

Please excuse me: I’m going to use myself as an example here, because I am fully aware of my own arrogance and not too proud to admit it.

After my first couple of years in burlesque, I decided to cut back on the nerdy shows. I appreciate them so much, and love being in the audience for them, but with the way my own career has progressed, they often cost me a pretty penny and I get minimal mileage out of them.

That said, when someone is producing a “Doctor Who” show and they ask you personally to play Captain Jack Harkness…you can’t really say no, and you definitely can’t fuck it up.

Jack Harkness, for those who aren’t familiar, has plenty of reasons to take his clothes off. He’s hot. He’s charming. He’ll unzip his pants for pretty much anyone, regardless of gender or species. He’s the slutty pansexual dreamboat that I’ve always wanted to see on the screen. But I didn’t want to build my act around that alone. Again: context. 

There is an episode called “Bad Wolf” where Jack gets teleported into a futuristic reboot of “Extreme Makeover”, and two droid stylists zap his clothes off with a defabricator ray. Jackpot. I had a character. I had a motivation. I had an arc. The pieces practically pulled themselves together, and I quickly had (what I believe to be) one of my strongest acts to date. I wish I had more opportunities to take it out, but I don’t want to shove obscure sci-fi references in anyone’s face without their clear consent. Do you understand what I’m saying?

The arc is something that I think gets dangerously neglected with popular characters in burlesque, often because we feel it is implied. But just as an audience needs to see a character change between the beginning and the end of a movie or play, they should see how your character develops in a burlesque routine, whether it’s a recognizable character or not. Otherwise, it’s just pretty. And while most of us do burlesque partially to publicly claim our own beauty, many of us also want our audiences to have boners for our brains. Let’s keep those brain-boners coming, kids!