A Proposal for The Right to Bare Ass: My Life Dancing Naked in the Nations Capital By Craig Seymour

sometimes the wrong choices lead you to the right place

The following was composed using memories of actual events. Some names, descriptions, situations, and circumstances have been changed to protect the anonymity of certain people.

Freedom means the opportunity to be what we never thought we would be. Daniel J. Boorstin

PROLOGUE

So, you used to be a stripper? he asks. Im on a date at a bar in Providence, R.I., where I live. Its my first date in months. O.K., more than a year. The guy is cute in that dorky way I like. He reads books, has lived in New York. I really want this to work. I really want a kiss. Yeah, back in D.C., when I was in grad school, I answer. You danced around and spun on poles and stuff? Not exactly. Mostly I just stood there and let people play with my dick. His jaw perceptibly drops. See, D.C. used to have some of the wildest strip clubs in the country, surprisingly enough. Customers could basically fondle us and feel us up, and theyd always try to stick their fingers up our asses That doesnt sound legal, he says, mouth in a suspicious smirk. No one really knew if it was legal or not. But it had been going on for years and the cops sorta turned a blind eye. Its different now. But thats how it was when I danced. Its hard to believe this happened in our nations capital, he says, taking a swig from his PBR. I know, right. But you have to remember that the Mayor was on

crack most of this time. He nods in an I never thought of that kind of way. So, whyd you do it? he asks. Its the inevitable question, the first part of what Ive unaffectionately come to call the interro-gogo, a line of inquiry that often makes me feel more naked, used, and vulnerable than I ever felt showing my ass on a bar or on stage. Its not so much the questions that bother me, but the way people ask them, as if they know more about my experience than I do. When my answers dont jibe with their preconceptions, they say things like I dont believe you, as if my having been a stripper grants them some higher authority to question my truth. Because of this, I keep things simple. It was just something Id always wanted to try, I say. He kind of smiles, and, though I dont know exactly why, it relaxes me. Did you feel used with all those guys pawing on you? Sometimes, yeah; but most times, no. And it certainly wasnt the first or last time Id ever felt used at a job. But generally it was a lot of fun. It was all about doing something that was a little unexpected and out there, you know? So, howd you get started?

Well, it was sorta like this

CHAPTER 1 SUMMARY

Fuck it. The words whipped though my head as I stood in the cold hallway with my hand on the door leading to the stage. A sign on the door read: This Is Not An Exit. The music thumped loudlyall beats, whooshes, and wails like a gospel diva trapped in a washing machine. I took a rushed breath, twisted the doorknob, and walked inside, going from the sunshine of the hallway to the midnight of the theater. I couldnt see a thing, not really. It took what seemed like a full minute for my eyes to adjust to the darkness of the brick room painted black. I started to make out the outlines of figures seated in the rows of seats in front of the stage and standing along the back wall. The music continued to thump, louder now that I was inside, and the air smelled of cheap bleach and crotch. Beads of chilly sweat dripped from my armpits. My heartbeat quickened. Again, those words, Fuck it. I started up the steps toward the stage and positioned myself in front of a large hanging screen that minutes earlier had been showing the fuzzy projected images of two California surfer dudes fucking by a pool. Once I made it to the center of the stage, the D.J. in the overhead booth switched on the spotlight. I was now burning in a hard white sun. Dressed in a too-tight t-shirt and shredded, hanging-off-

my-ass jean shorts, I looked like the slutty boy at summer camp, the one whos always disappearing with the artsy male counselors. The D.J. bellowed over the loudspeaker in a 70s game show announcer voice, Gentlemen, welcome to The Follies. Our next dancer is making his first appearance here. Put your hands together for (long dramatic pause) Craig. I started to dance a little bit, moving my feet from side to side with great deliberateness, the junior high two-step. There were no Chippendales-like dance routines needed here. It wasnt that kind of place. The guys who came to the FolliesWashington D.C.s oldest gay porn theatre and home of the hottest all male burlesquewanted flesh and they wanted it quickly. This was less striptease than striptouch. The dancers job was to get onstage, disrobe, try to get a hardon, and then walk out among the customers who for a tipgenerally a buckgot to stroke, fondle, poke and prod the dancers body. It was more like sex than dancing, and it had become my job. This whole scene was a change for me since I spent most of my days as a graduate student and teacher at the University of Maryland College Parka campus so idyllic and grassy that it was used as the school in St. Elmos Fire. But I was ready for a change. I needed it. I knew I was taking a big chance by dancing here. I wasnt sure what would happen if the people at school, especially my students or,

even worse, their parents, found out about it. And then the Follies itself could sometimes be a dangerous place. A 1977 fire took eight lives, among them a congressional aide, a Midwestern minister, an ex-Marine, and an economist for the World Bank. Then, 15 years later, more than a dozen flashlight-wielding cops stormed into the dark theatre and arrested 14 men on sodomy and other sex-related charges. Three dancers got caught up in the sweep. One guy, wearing only cowboy boots, was busted in the middle of his set. For these reasons, I knew there were risks. But I didnt care. I couldnt afford to. I was trying to find out something about myself, even if I couldnt quite articulate what that was. It was a journey I felt compelled to takethe road less clothedand this was my first step. The song played on. I knew I had to start taking something off, but I didnt really know how to do it. Like most people, Id never given any thought to taking off my clothes. It was just something I did. But now I had an audience that was expecting me to do it, and it wasnt like there was any training course or apprenticeship program for aspiring strippers. First, I lifted up my t-shirt, gripping it from the bottom and pulling it inside out over my head. (Id later find out that this was the girly way of taking off a shirt; a real man grabs it from back of the

collar and pulls it over his head.) Once my chest was revealed, I was halfway to nakedness. I sucked in my stomach, and felt my nipples harden in the cold air. Next I took off my jean shorts, first playing with the front snap, slowly lowering the zipper, and finally letting the denim drop. I wasnt wearing any underwear, because, after all, what summer-camp-boyslut have you known who wore drawers? I stepped out of the shorts one leg at a time and soon was entirely naked except for my sneakers and two white sport socks on my feet. My grandmother had given me these socks for Christmas a few months before. I liked them because they had dark gray patches at the toe and heel for added support. The next thing I had to worry about was my dick. It wasnt hard. It was even a little shrunken from the cold. I started tugging on it nervously. I didnt really know what to do. When I jerked off at home, I was usually lying down watching a porn tape or flipping through a magazine, not standing in front of a room of strangers. I probably shouldve been thinking about something that turned me on, but my mind wasnt really working that way. I wasnt having thoughts. It was all a nervous rush. I kept yanking on my dick. Hours, years, a full millennium seemed to pass. I tugged some more until I finally got it to a respectable hang. Once again I thought, fuck it, and headed out into

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the audience, walking down from the stage, carefully taking one step at a time. I stood in front of the rows of seats and instantly felt safer. It was dark here. I was away from the spotlight of the stage. My heart rate slowed. There was no one in the first two rows, which had several broken seats covered with duct tape, so I walked over to an older guy in the third row. He smiled as I stood in front of him and I lifted my left leg, propping it on one of his armrests. He placed a folded dollar bill into my sock and put one hand firmly behind my balls, using the other hand to grab my dick. I got rock hard as he moved this hand back and forth. We stayed like this for about a minute. In my mind, I imagined a parking meter. I was wondering how much time he should get for a buck. My set only lasted ten minutes and there were about six other customers I had to get to. I slowly pulled away from him, leaned over and whispered, Thank you. No, he responded. Thank you. I smiled and moved to my next customer, another older white dude, who asked, What are you, as he grabbed my package. Excuse me?

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What are you? What nationality? Um, American, the last time I checked my passport. I mean, whats your ethnic background? You look Hispanic or Filipino or something. At the clubs, most of the dancers were white, with the occasional black, Latino, or idunno-looking guy like me thrown in. Im black, I say. Really? You dont look it. Is one of your parents white? Nope. Oh, well, you have an interesting look. Thanks, I said, adding in my mind, I guess. The next customer, who sat in the back row, was an Asian guy in his 20s. I positioned myself in front of him, my dick still at full mast. That looks dangerous, he said, as he put some bills in my sock and started stroking me. What is it, about 10 inches? I dont know. I said. Ive never measured it. I really hadnt. He then proceeded to pull on my cock like he was a contestant in a yanking contest at the county fair. Whoa, man. Slow down, I said. Jeez. He looked a little embarrassed. In order to break the tension, I put my hand over his and moved it slowly back and forth. Like this, I said. He looked up sheepishly, and then gave me

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another tip. The last guy in the back row was by far the weirdest. He was short and fat with pale pasty skin and a few shellacked wisps of hair plastered to his nearly bald scalp. When I stood in front of him, he tipped me and then reached for my dick with his thumb and forefinger as if examining something in a laboratory: A human male penis. Interesting. Notice its firmness and vein-y texture. You can tell a lot about how a guy masturbates by the way he touches you, said Casey, one of the two other dancers I was working with, after I finished my set. We were sitting in the dressing room, which was also a functioning broom closet. Yeah, but some of them are just plain weird, I said, and then this one guy pulled it so hard it was like he wanted to take it home as a souvenir. Casey laughed and told me to buy a tube of Elbow Grease, a creamy, oil-based lubricant, from the front counter. It helps cut down on the wear and tear, he explained, rubbing lotion over his arms, which had tattoos curling down them like colorful snakes. We waited in the dressing room while the other dancer went through his set, then we went back to the theatre for the 10-minute encore where all the dancers performed together. I dont remember any of the other songs that played while I was working, but the last

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song of the finale was Madonnas Wheres the Party. As I walked through the audience again, butt naked, hands on my dick, Madonna thumping in my ear, I felt that Id made a transformation, as surely as Superman slipping out of a phone booth or Wonder Woman doing a sunburst spin. I was bare ass in a room of paying strangers, a stripper. After years of wondering what it would be like, I had done itfaced a fear, defied expectation, embraced a taboo self. It was only the beginning.

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OVERVIEW: COMPETITION, AUDIENCE AND MARKETING

The Right to Bare Ass: My Life Dancing Naked in the Nations Capital is a memoir of my nearly three years working the gay strip clubs of Washington, D.C., a period that found me living a double life grad student and college teacher by day/stripper by nightin order to find out what I was made of. The book chronicles in compelling and often comic detail my many experiences, including keeping the secret from my parents, my bumbling and ultimately humiliating porn audition, the breakup of a long-term relationship, and the times that I grappled withand failed miserably athaving sex for money. But this is no one-note cautionary tale. The book also shows how stripping taught me to take wild chances, ultimately leading me to become a successful entertainment journalist, interviewing top stars like Mariah Carey and Janet Jackson. Just as the bestselling The Glass Castle reveals how Jeannette Walls hardscrabble childhood influenced her as a gossip columnist, The Right to Bare Ass tells how my experience sizing up the needs of strip club customers proved invaluable when trying to relate to defensive, narcissistic celebrities. Quite simply, the decision to strip changed my life, and the things I learned while stripping have played a part in every professional success Ive achieved over the past 10 years. Thats why,

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though the subject matter is undeniably racy, my story, at heart, will speak to anyone whos ever wanted to break free from expectations and try life on a different path. Its a love song to the power of taking risks, showing how sometimes the wrong choices lead you to the right place. This unapologetically upbeat tone is just one of many ways that The Right to Bare Ass differs from other stripping books. Working at a strip club is like being part of a carnival, yet many accounts of stripping come off funereal and have nothing to do with the reasons why thousands of people head to strip clubs everyday. The Right to Bare Ass, on the other hand, captures the complex, wild-hearted spirit of a strip club: the crassness and the beauty; the desperation and the sometimes surprising generosity; the lost souls and the libertine angels; the sadness and the hopefulness thats always present whenever human beings try to connect. Another important way The Right to Bare Ass differs from other stripping books is that its written from a guys perspective. Francine Du Plessix Gray, writing about stripping in The New Yorker, observes: There has been curiously little satisfying literature about this venerable American genre. This is especially the case when it comes to male stripping. Though Lily Buranas Strip City: A Strippers Farewell Journey Across America, Elizabeth Eaves Bare: On Women, Dancing,

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Sex, and Power and Diablo Codys Candy Girl: A Year in the Life of an Unlikely Stripper examine female stripping, no major book has yet chronicled what it means for men to become strippers and make themselves into objects of desire, something that goes against the grain of traditional masculinity. The Right to Bare Ass is the first book to detail this phenomenon through the stories of how I and the other dancers went about the day-to-day process of discovering what stripping meant for us as mengay, straight, gay for pay, and undefinedand how it affected our personal lives and senses of self. This is all set against the fascinating backdrop of the gay strip clubs of Washington, D.C., a unique and deliciously bawdy scene that has never been covered in a book. Whats more, the scene no longer exists. A 1996 crackdown made the clubs strictly no-touch, which dramatically altered their unique, sexually over-the top nature. But even more dramatic and final, most of the clubs permanently closed in April 2006 because they stood where the D.C. government is building its new $400 million baseball stadium. This turn of events, considered to be a great loss to D.C.s gay community, has been extensively chronicled by the local media, including two prominently placed features in The Washington Post. The Right to Bare Ass will return readers to a singular moment in time and introduce them to a motley bunch of unforgettable real-life

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characters: the closeted, 60-something federal government paperpusher in love with a 21-year-old scruffy farm boy stripper from Virginia; the straight, porn star stripper, just out of high school, who needs instructions in gay sex; the flamboyant drag queen hostess who went from living in the country stuffing her bra with bird seed and dirty socks to becoming the top female impersonator in D.C.; and the past-his-prime stripper who longs for the days when he was the star attraction and all of his bad behaviorfrom cursing out customers to shattering mirrorswas excused. The Right to Bare Ass solidly delivers upon one of the most fundamental pleasures of booksallowing readers entre into another world. There are numerous audiences for the book. Following is a list of some of the potential audiences and ideas for how best to reach them.

Gay-Friendly Chick Lit Readers (i.e. women who pack a copy of Candace Bushnells Lipstick Jungle for a weekend trip to Brokeback Mountain) Research shows that straight women make up a sizable, if not dominant, portion of the audience for gay-themed pop culture. Brokeback Mountains producers have said that straight women were the films core audience, and, according to Nielsen Media, women are the primary viewers of every gay TV show from the tame (Will &

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Grace, Queer Eye for the Straight Guy) to the unapologetically randy (Queer as Folk). The Right To Bare Ass will be especially appealing to this audience because, at heart, it deals with coming to terms with ones sexuality and the complicated feelings that go with being sexually objectifiedsomething that many women can relate to. One way to reach this audience would be to target lists of chicklit readers (readers groups, book clubs, fan websites, etc.) with an email or web post specifically geared to their needs and interests.

Sex-Obsessed Hipsters (i.e. trendy 20 and 30-somethings you see at Starbucks reading Jenna Jamesons How To Make Love Like a Porn Star while simultaneously text-messaging a friend and updating their myspace page) The New York Times Magazine recently noted: The first movers of culture, Young Metropolitan Adults, have embraced an aggressively sexualized world that includes the hip, subversive and degenerate aesthetic of Vice magazine, Web sites like Suicide Girls and photographers like Terry Richardson, more stupidly raunchy phenomena like the Girls Gone Wild video series or Paris Hilton, and, increasingly, the actual intersection of pornography with mainstream entertainment. The Right to Bare Ass perfectly fits this trend. The internet is obviously the key to reaching this audience. Prior

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to the books publication, I will create a website and a myspace page for the book, as well as, a digital trailer that can run on youtube.com. I will also develop a podcast featuring songs mentioned in the book.

GUPPIES on the Go (i.e. gay professionals reading Marc Acitos How I Paid for College on a plane taking them from a business meeting in Manhattan to the White Party in Palm Springs) Conventional publishing wisdom is that gay men dont buy books. But I believe that gay literature is currently where black literature was pre-Terry McMillan. Many gay men under 40 dont relate to the classic gay literary writers of the 70s (the Edmund Whites, the Andrew Hollerans), are bored by the glut of dry non-fiction tomes about gay marriage and how gays are changing the culture, and feel that heavy, woe-was-me coming out memoirs have little to do with their experience. What they want are smart and funny reads about gay life that arent obsessed with what it means to be gay. The Right to Bare Ass is clearly and quite deliberately in that mold. The primary goal in targeting this group is simply to make them aware of the book through the gay media. To do this, I can draw upon my numerous contacts in the National Lesbian and Gay Journalist Association. I was formerly Program Director for the organization and I coordinated one of the groups national conventions; therefore, I have

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very close relationships with much of its membership, which numbers more than 1,300. I have also written for the gay news magazine The Advocate, which boasts a circulation of 118,256, and Ive recently been included in a feature in the gay lifestyle magazine Out, which reaches 125,755 readers each month.

Curiosity-Seeking Washingtonians (i.e. avid local readers who loved Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil but wished it had been about D.C.) The books setting alone will make it of interest to a broad audience of Washingtonians, simply because it will reveal a previously unexamined world that once existed within this city thats obsessed with its own secrets. To reach this audience, I will rely largely on the press, drawing upon my contacts at The Washington Post, the alternative weekly The City Paper, and the two gay publications, Metro Weekly and The Washington Blade, which respectively reach 45,000 and 100,000 readers weekly. Indeed, The Post, Metro Weekly, and The Blade have all run major feature stories on the gay strip clubs in the wake of their closing to make way for the baseball stadium. My previous book, Luther: The Life & Longing of Luther Vandross, was also very successful in D.C., making The Washington Post Book Worlds list of

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books selling well at local independent bookstores. Lastly, I will try to give small group presentations to local organizations, particularly those interested in D.C. history. The Historical Society of Washington, for instance, has hosted a number of talks on gay history and published articles on the subject in its journal Washington History.

Frustrated Academics, Young and Old (i.e. For College Students And TeachersWhove Considered Career Suicide When the Degree Wasnt Enuf) Because much of The Right to Bare Ass takes place while I was a graduate student and teacher, it will appeal to a broad university audience, especially those who fantasize about life beyond the Ivory Tower. I can reach this audience in a number of different ways. I plan on joining a speakers bureau so that I can give large on-campus talks. But, because of my experience teaching writing, I will also reach out specifically to English Departments and Creative Writing Programs about giving memoir workshops. In addition, I plan on making presentations at various academic conferences on gay and lesbian studies, sex work, American Studies, and popular culture. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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Craig Seymour, who holds a Ph.D. in American Studies, is an Assistant Professor at the University of Massachusetts Dartmouth. He is also an accomplished journalist who has written for The Washington Post, Entertainment Weekly, Vibe, Spin, the Village Voice, and Tracks. He has served as a sex advice columnist for Vibe Vixen and has interviewed such popular celebrities as Janet Jackson, Mariah Carey, OutKast, Usher, Dolly Parton and many others. His work has been called show-stopping by the Village Voice and innovative and clever by Chuck Klosterman in his bestselling Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs. In 2004, his first book, Luther: the Life and Longing of Luther Vandross, was published by HarperCollins. It was a finalist for Best Biography in the Georgia Author of the Year Awards and was nominated for Best Research in Recorded Rhythm & Blues, Soul or Gospel Music by the Association for Recorded Sound Research. The biography also received numerous accolades:

an intimate portrait full of juicy anecdotes, fast-paced writing and interesting analysis E. Lynn Harris, author, What Becomes of the Brokenhearted

elegantly written, effortlessly executed and eloquently delivered

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Seymours brilliant book pays majestic tribute to a remarkable cultural figure Michael Eric Dyson, author, Mercy, Mercy Me: The Art, Loves and Demons of Marvin Gaye.

a sympathetic look at the most popular soul singer of his generation. The New York Daily News

nicely executed an enjoyable read about an important force in popular music. Library Journal

unexpectedly compelling The Buffalo News

a solidly written and juicy examination of the life and career of a musical giant. Dallas Voice

deeply insightful The Black Collegian

Seymour is an experienced public speaker and media commentator who has been interviewed for CNN Headline News, Good Day New York, Inside Edition, and Good Day Atlanta, as

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well as other popular national and local TV and radio shows. He is also readily available to tour and promote The Right to Bare Ass on the road.

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