After a particularly harrowing night last week I haven’t been able to quite shake the blues after witnessing the fucked up aggressive behavior toward women and the ignorant attitudes (the most alarming was from a fellow dancer) that continue to enable this current trend of violence against women and rape culture as “not ok but to be expected” in certain contexts, or the old “She was wearing this,” “She does that for a living,” or “She looks like a girl who would….” .

The excuses I hear from men behaving badly over and over again about the conniving sorcery of the vagina as it renders men helpless in a flash of gash, robbing them of their basic sense of human kindness. The definition of ‘violence’ has become one so extreme and obvious as to obliterate the subtleties and manipulations most often deployed in order to effectively be violent….and not get caught. Basically the general feeling is that if you don’t get punched in the face, or visibly bruised, or raped, you haven’t really been a victim of violence. It hasn’t been that bad. Could’ve been worse.

I’m still processing why the other night has effected me so deeply. Nothing that fucked up happened to me in particular but I was there. In the thick of it. The extreme nature of the people involved in the events has burnt something into me. Rolling hills of fear, discomfort, sadness, adrenalin, disgust, anger, tension, violation, humiliation, embarrassment, confusion, disbelief. I keep seeing the faces and hands…fingers, hearing the roars, profanities and cries, feeling over and over again the sensation of being numb in myself but hurting on behalf of everyone else and beyond. Maybe those girls have forgotten it by now. I haven’t. I want to be able to sweep it to the side, watch my sadness for human kind float away like particles of dust. I don’t actively watch the news anymore. I haven’t since 2008. But even still, ensconced in this little girl’s bubble of a world that I have constructed for myself, the stories of brutal rape and senseless victim blaming in India, of some fat Asian’s stupid rape culture t-shirt at Coachella, the girl in Melbourne being stabbed to death in the light of early evening, have all made it through my strawberry flavoured hubba bubba barrier.

Photo sniped from and please note that @JemayelK is the guy who posted the picture, not the dickhead wearing the shirt.  

No one was violently raped the other night. Not as such. Not with a dick anyway. I don’t know. Does a finger shoved up a vagina or asshole without consent count? Does a giant Maori man fucked off his face on drugs licking a girl’s vagina while she is facing the other way, or the same giant biting another girl hard on the shoulder, or his Sydney Lebanese friend digging both hands into her ass so hard that I could see the dints of his nails and fingertips, count as violence? I’m inclined to say yes but for some reason, the reactions of people who are told this story or who were actually there, seem to indicate no. This is what makes my heart hurt days later. This is why my eyes still sting with the threat of tears. This is why my throat constricts and my breathing pauses as I actively try NOT TO FEEL IT. I am trying not to feel the way I SHOULD feel when I was in the same room over a period when all of these things were happening. Some things I was aware of, some not. I was doing my best to manage my guy, to distract him from the fingering, the arse smacking and grabbing, ear licking, that was going on around us so that he wouldn’t expect the same. His octopus hands were doing their best to wander, his energy within our dynamic was threatening to fracture, to stray from me and become a part of the pack. My eyes were on him. So I did nothing. I said nothing.

My sister is a science writer. She says we are in a unique position as strippers to have insight into many elements of primal behaviour that have stood their ground through centuries of evolution. Now she has me reading scientific papers on aggressive fucked up chimpanzee behaviour and the hypothesis that these correlate with that of humans due to both biological AND cultural similarities. I’m learning that sexual coercion and collective violence are common in both. That it’s not just an imagined phenomena that men are more likely to fuck your shit up, and that women go for men who will fuck their shit up. And that one of the biggest differences between Great Apes and homosapiens is that the male homosapiens SHOULD be advanced enough to over ride their biological compulsions to be total fucking assholes, and that the females SHOULD be advanced enough to know that they have other choices than to take it like a bitch. And it’s up here on my high horse, where the air is brisk and fresh, and everything seems so clearly laid out before my eyes, that I have to marvel at myself. It was only 6 months ago that I allowed myself to be violated. I did not defend myself. I did not speak out. My brain over rid my instinct and I paid that milk eyed toad faced predator and left without a word of complaint. When I was 14 years old I was in the room as my best friend was molested. It was subtle, it wasn’t obviously violent. Even so, I thought I knew something was wrong. I did nothing. I said nothing. I did nothing because all my life I have been trained not to speak up. I was taught as a child not to question people in a position of authority or care. As adults women are told not to be hysterical, not to over react, not to be emotional. To handle things without ‘causing’ drama. It’s always on us to fix our reactions, to tolerate the behaviour of others and adjust ourselves to cope. It’s wrong. This needs to change.

After a night like that all I want is to be held. To have a man I care for show me what it’s supposed to be like. Contact. Intimacy. Care. Tenderness. The right way to be naked in front of someone. The right way to be touched and admired. To be desired for more than my instagrammable arse and my perky boobs. The right way to have someone inside me. To be really seen, and valued, instead of just looked at and chucked a hundred dollar bill. To be wanted for more than just 10 minutes of possession.  To have someone see me as I really am as their eyes move over me, trace their fingertips from my forehead to my toes, up the back of my legs all the way up again to cradle the crown of my head. Just to remind me that that kind of thing really exists.

8 thoughts on “EAT, SLEEP, RAPE, REPEAT. 

  1. Hey Stripper Monologues….I just have to say how much this last piece has affected me. Not wimpy wuss bullshit or anything but I agree how fucking stupid most so called men are…as a father and husband I get more than a little anxious for my daughter. Even more so for my wife, who is a gorgeous life model.
    I think, perhaps like your sister and yourself, that despite our apparent ability to be able to over-ride those pre-programmed reptilian instincts to fuck, the reason men don’t is because some of them lack the brains to do so. I think they just don’t have a freakin’ clue.
    You see it all the time…a disconnect between nervous system and fundamental logic or principles of sanity.
    I truly do really hope that your experiences don’t malign your perception of us proper gentlemen. We do exist. Despite the fact that I’ve never been to a strip club out of choice…I know I’d probably like it…I have utmost respect for your career path and hey…If you dance funky…who gives a shit. But I hope you find that guy that isn’t a knuckle dragging fucktard. Romance ain’t dead yet.
    One Love. X

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks darling. I’m not quite cynical yet. Fingers crossed I can stick out the next few months to my 10 year anniversary of dancing with my faith in tact! Your wife is gorgeous. I’ve seen her and you photograph her with a lot of admiration and tenderness. Comes through and it’s lovely to see xX


  2. Hello,

    I would just like to say that this piece moved me to tears and i wanted to thank you for writing it. I was sexually assaulted about a month ago. Its really hard to wrap your head around, hurting another person mentally, emotionally and physically for your own selfishness. I used to believe that everyone has a little bit of good in them, no matter what bad things they did. I just cant believe that anymore. There is no amount of substances in the world that can make you violate someones right to personal space. Those people know full well what they are doing and are too selfish to care what they are doing to the other person involved. It is ignorance and selfishness.
    What you have said is very true and the way these situations are treated makes my heart very sad. Rape isn’t a joke and I didn’t deserve it and neither does anyone else man, woman or other.
    No matter what you do for a living, wear or how you act, no means no and that is something we need to be teaching. Not don’t do x,y or z or you will get raped. That is a basic human right , to feel safe and have your body and personal space respected.

    Thank you for saying these things. We need more women like you in the world. Saying the things that need to be said about these subjects and being role models for girls like me.

    Thank you and take care

    Liked by 1 person

    • I am so bloody sorry that this has happened to you. Words cannot express. Thank you for leaving your thoughts with me. Your message also moved me to tears. Have you been seeing anyone about what happened to you? Please contact my or on my Facebook page if you want help finding resources, particularly if you’re in Melbourne.


  3. “…homosapiens is that the male homosapiens SHOULD be advanced enough to over ride their biological compulsions to be total fucking assholes, and that the females SHOULD be advanced enough to know that they have other choices than to take it like a bitch.”

    This is so true. Another argument I’ve heard far too many times is the “if you set a steak in front of a dog, they’re going to eat it.”

    And there are may responses to that, some of the main ones being the following:

    1) Are they comparing men to dogs? As a woman I find that insulting to men. If I were a man, I would be incredibly insulted.
    2) It’s actually not true that the dog will eat the steak every time. A well-trained dog, ordered not to eat the steak, will refrain from eating the steak. Not everyone has a dog that is stark raving mad.
    3) If point number 2 is correct, and that a dog can be trained to not eat the steak, the analogy they make comparing men to dogs and women’s bodies to steak (which is also pretty offensive and vulgar), then it turns out these men are worse behaved than dogs.

    You’re right. There are plenty of biological reasons why men might be expected to behave violently toward women. Or why women might be expected to take the abuse in stride. But we’re clearly beyond that point – or should be – in terms of intelligence. There are plenty of things we used to do when the species was more underdeveloped that we would not generally do now. Now we do things like bathe regularly, go to regular medical appointments. We buy our food at a store in stead of running about to find it. We have sex with eager consenting partners.

    Something about seeing abuse happen though is just shocking every time though. It like you can feel it happening to you by proxy – especially if you’ve ever experienced the things you’re seeing. Sometimes, even if it’s in a movie, it’s still a little overwhelming. It’s that feeling when your whole body stiffens up and tightens and there’s a weird pressure sound in your head. I don’t know what that is, but I feel like I really understood what you were talking about here.


    • Ha! My dog didn’t used to eat steaks unless told she could. Unfortunately the steroids make her appetite uncontrollably voracious! I’m making my way through “Demonic Males” by Richard Wrangham and Dale Peterson right now. It is incredibly interesting. I think you would really enjoy it. Somewhat comforting to have emotional musings deconstructed in a scientific way.

      Thank you so much for your ongoing support. It really is wonderful how social media platforms like instagram and wordpress make it possible for us to forge relationships and draw support from complete strangers. I try and remember the good experiences when I have those palm to forehead moments from the bad!


  4. Well, I was just lucky enough to spend time reading your blog.
    I must say it is very well written and you have a real talent 🙂

    It would be amazing to know more about what makes you tick and your inspiration and passion for this great blog.

    Ps. This is far from being a sleazy and bad line. Genuinely intrigued 🙂


    • Julian you’re a doll! Thanks so much for wanting to get to know my inspiration and passion for the blog just keep reading. It’s all in there. Just all my real life stuff I guess. Keep reading and you’ll figure out what makes me tick 😉


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