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.

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.