"When the Stranger says: 'What is the meaning of this city?
Do you huddle close together because you love each other?'
What will you answer? 'We all dwell together
To make money from each other'? or 'This is a community'?"
- "The Rock" by T.S. Eliot
If you've
been following this blog, then you know how much of a positive effect burlesque
has had on my life.
However, life can't always
be rainbows and glitter.
Plus, anybody
who has tried to wash glitter off garments or furniture (or themselves) knows
that there's a price to pay with the sparkles.
First,
there's going to be haters and creeps.
Not everyone is going to have tact, but we still have to be
professional. Nevertheless, that doesn't
mean we shouldn't stick up for ourselves and our fellow performers. We can be firm, and yes, we can teach people
a lesson about not slut-shaming or sending dick pics or just being straight-up
rude.
Unsavory
audience members are easy to deal with compared to the toxins from within. We can easily say that we'll boycott
problematic shows and blacklist performers, but it's another thing to put that
into action. What happens when that
person is in a position of power/influence?
Or what do you do about the positive contributions that they have made? What about their supports, who could easily
be victims as well?
Even
though I'm not going to go into specifics here, I definitely think we have to
start conversations about problematic individuals.
There's so much criticism of social media and
call-out culture, but as a loner, I can tell you how hard it is to find out
information when no one talks about it publicly.
Of course, trying to confront the problem
privately is important, but information that could keep an up-and-coming
performer from ruining their careers or being exploited should be made
known.
Same goes when those from marginalized
groups are taken advantage of.
A
community should look out for all its members.
At the
same time, remember to look out for yourself.
Learning to draw the line between friendship and a business relationship
has been tough for me. Although there
are individuals who can occupy both spaces, I still have to address them based
on the situation. There are some people
I want to help because they're my friend, but they are a liability to me as a
producer. On the flip side, there are
some—okay, a lot—of people whom are more co-workers than friends. As a result, I know they're not always going
to be there for me, and I don't expect them to show up unless I've hired
them. The ideal of a community is for
its members to support one another, but I find that's a lot to ask for so I'll
just take what I can get from the people who do show up on their own accord.
This harsh
reality doesn't mean we can't try to make our burlesque scenes better for
everyone. We can—really we must— talk about discrimination. We have to make rules about sexual harassment
and offensive acts. If we made a
mistaken, then we should own up to it and move forward with corrected action. We should hold others accountable while also
moving forward. It's easier said than
done. If it weren't for the instruction,
opportunity, or even support (no matter how superficial or disingenuous it
actually was) they provided, I would not be the performer I am today. I've learned that there's a way to move on
from them while still giving credit where it's due:
1. mentioning the person or event but not tagging them
2. not working with them in the future
3. telling my own story, which could be positive, while also acknowledging
those who have been hurt.
I don't
have all the answers, only hard lessons I've learned. What works for me doesn't work for everyone
(or even anyone, given how much of a loner I am). Despite some of the cynical ideas I have
about humankind, I still believe that when we work hard, stay authentic, and do
good, things will work out in the end. It
translates into art that people will connect with, and that's how you'll get
seen.
