Naked Integrity

Sex work of all kinds is controversial in feminist communities. As you know, I don't identify as a woman, but I do identify as a feminist, so I often find myself wondering whether it is ethical for me to strip.

I don't identify as a woman. Given that, do I have the right to make a profit from objectifying a female body? A woman's identity? When I work, I am not honest about who I am. I have not and never intended to tell anyone I worked with or anyone I danced for (aside from Boyfriend) how I identify. That's why I shave my face so closely before I go to work. I'm not Corey the FtM stripper while I'm actually stripping. While I'm actually stripping I'm Corey, the cute, somewhat shy, short-haired stripper girl. So in essence, what I'm representing while I strip is a woman who is okay with the sex industry, at least in terms of stripping, who is often objectified and makes money from that. A woman who has a lot of fun stripping, in fact. However, during the rest of my life, I represent a trans man who does not make a point to vocalize his female bodied experience, let alone advocate my choice to present as a woman in a sex industry space.

That's not to say I never talk about my trans experience. It happens sometimes when I don't pass. It happens often when I'm outed one way or another. And sometimes it even happens by choice. I've had the pleasure of speaking at conferences and workshops and college classes (usually gender/sexuality classes or psych classes) about my personal experience as a trans person and about the logistical/legal complications of simply walking around the world as a trans person (a trans 101 style, if you will). But I do not, generally, talk about my experience as a sex worker, let alone as a trans sex worker. In fact, I believe, publicly, it's happened two times. At one notoriously liberal public policy conference, and once at a conference/training for health care professionals who do HIV/AIDS testing, treatment and care (talking about how they can better serve lgbt communities and ask the right questions about our varied experiences). But that's pretty much it. Some of my friends know, and obviously Boyfriend, but I didn't exactly write home when I started. Am I ashamed? I won't start down that road right now. Do I wish I spoke more about it though? Often, yeah. But again, conversations (about demystifying and making safer and more honest) for another day.

Essentially what I get to wondering is, is it ethical for me to put a female body out there to be objectified and participate in sex work, when I don't live my life as a woman who's willing to advocate, own and represent making that choice? It doesn't seem quite right.

On the other hand, it's my body. It belongs to me, and I get to do with it what I choose. As a trans person, as a person who was assigned and socialized female, I have often found myself facing limited, complex and loaded options. Whatever I felt I needed to do, or wanted to do, to be able to operate within the framework the world gave me, should be okay, shouldn't it? But I'm a man. Would a man in any other circumstances have the right to choose to make a profit in this way? I guess a man in other circumstances would probably be making the decision over someone else's body. So again, where does this leave me?

It's not like I made a point to say to every man I danced for, "I'm a woman." People just made that assumption and I just went with it. Am I responsible for that? It would not have been safe for me to say otherwise, but I did make the choice to enter into that unsafe space. (Of course, if I had my druthers, all spaces would be safe.) And I did shave off all my body hair (or wax - ouch), apply fake eyelashes and wear tall heels. I guess that's not really "just going with it." Whether I like it or agree with it or not, these are things I know to be gendered. But what if I disagree with the gendering? What if those were things I enjoyed even though I don't identify as a woman? What if I enjoyed drag? Does that make me responsible for other people's assumptions? What about when I'm knowingly playing into (and profiting off of) them? What about the integrity of the service I'm providing? In large part, there is an element of dishonesty to stripping in the fantasy aspect. So does it matter if I'm taking the "fantasy" of it one step further? Should I be considering notions of consent when I'm having homoerotic interactions (not that they're erotic for me - they're not really, but what I mean is I'm a dude engaging with these other dudes in a sexy way) with these men who think they're simply and directly engaging with a woman? They didn't ask for a lap dance from a dude, it's not part of the "contract". But does it matter that I'm not exactly what I'm selling? Or maybe I am. What I'm selling in fantasy, not reality, anyway. Furthermore, whatever they or I interpret my body to mean or represent doesn't change what it is. I have a pussy. And a pretty decent set of tits. That's just the truth. That's part of the transaction that can't be fabricated or misrepresented or even represented in the first place. It's just something that is and is consistent in all the moments of my life. And it's in large part molded by testosterone. So idk. Maybe I'm just queering up the mainstream strip club with my stealthy, FtM, queer, T-oozing self and my dude-ly FAAB bod? Idk.

I do have to say, a lot of, if not queerness, interestingness happens. For example, when I went back to the club after having been on T for almost a year, I was absolutely terrified that guys wouldn't be interested in me anymore, that I wouldn't fit within the realm of mainstream femme desirability - or worse - that they'd figure me out. But not only did nobody figure me out, they liked me more. Constantly guys were commenting on how they loved my deep, raspy voice. My super toned arms (which I had worried would seem too bulky), and often my short hair. I don't want to get graphic here, but I will say that testosterone changed my body in many ways that had me very worried about getting naked in people's faces, but consistently, to my surprise, men loved my body. (If you know a bit about trans* stuff, you probably know what I'm getting at here. If not, maybe one day when I'm feeling a little less shy I'll do post all about my awesome... *ahem* "equipment".) Anyway.

Part of me sort of feels like saying fuck it. I don't owe anybody anything and I get to do what I want with my own body and my life. That's my business. But another part of me has to ask, what are the implications of that? I own the body, but who is forced to own the consequences of what I do with it? Women. (And by consequences here I am not talking about any potential harm that may come to me in the line of work - I mean socially - I mean the ideas and perspectives the men who come to my club leave with and carry with them)