CONTACT:

For bookings, media requests, and love letters, email info @ jacqthestripper dot com 

For customer service, email strippersforevershop @ gmail dot com

To stay in touch, sign up for the Strippers Forever newsletter.

 

         

123 Street Avenue, City Town, 99999

(123) 555-6789

email@address.com

 

You can set your address, phone number, email and site description in the settings tab.
Link to read me page with more information.

lucite.jpg

Blog

 

 

Filtering by Tag: Tits and Sass

The Tits & Sass Review of The Beaver Show

Jacq

I could not be feel more supported by my ripper sisterhood as Tits and Sass' contributor Catherine Plato reviewed The Beaver Show


"During my first few years working, I would get my hands on any stripper memoir I could read, obsessed with finding out how other women experienced this bizarre life I ‘d embarked on. I was relieved at finding how common some of my insecurities and struggles were, and occasionally disappointed to discover that none of my thoughts on the business were as original as I had hoped.

The Beaver Show, by Tits and Sass contributor and blogger Jacqueline Frances (AKA Jacq the Stripper), was a reintroduction to my love for stripper lit, and brought with it a sweet nostalgia for my fish-out-of-water feelings as a baby stripper. The book chronicles Jacq’s first days working at clubs in Australia, then follows her to stints in New York City, New Mexico, Alberta, Canada, and Myrtle Beach, S.C. Like me, Jacq goes from feeling confused, clueless, and decidedly like an imposter, to riding the high that comes with early success, to settling with the persistent irritation that I think is unavoidable after you’ve been in the business a few years. She begins the book with a short personal essay she wrote in fifth grade, where she says that her proudest moment to date is dancing onstage in cool costumes. From there, we follow her to her first day at work.

Like very other stripper memoir I’ve come across, Jacq is hilarious and colorful in her descriptions—it’s frankly pretty hard to write about our business without making fun of it. What I found unique about her, though, was her ability to describe some of the more tender moments of dancing, the more touching and painful parts that ask for a bit of sincerity in the narrative amidst the caricatures of clients and clubs. For example, a few days after starting at her very first club, a customer sits at the tip rail, gives her two dollars, and demands that she perform a pole trick:

“I’m embarrassed because I don’t know any tricks. I feel unprepared. I feel like I owe him a trick. I feel all these things because I’m a rookie stripper and it won’t take long to learn that entitled assholes abound and they are yearning to be put in their place.

But for now, I have to undergo this humiliating feeling of not being enough for this man; to feel like I have to go above and beyond the call of duty to earn his attention, approval, and laminated money.”

A lot of stripper memoirs I’ve read avoid discussing this kind of insecurity. I personally found it very familiar, particularly reflecting on my earliest days of working. I think it’s not uncommon for sex work memoirists to be unashamed in admitting their body insecurities, or their discomfort with having boundaries pushed by asshole customers. But I find this sentiment—the persistent and innate pressure some of us feel to please a total stranger, to not disappoint, to not fail, even without substantial financial reward—to be something people shy away from discussing. It was something I felt all the time, couldn’t explain, and never spoke much about. Maybe moments like this don’t match the autonomous tough girl image we all like to wear, maybe it’s too embarrassing to admit, or just not funny enough to write about in between jokes about whiskey dicks and g-strings. I was happy that Jacq chose to go there, because it’s important to show what working in the industry can do for the evolution of someone’s confidence and sense of control."

Read the full review here.

MELODY: Diary of a Nude Dancer REVIEW on TitsandSass.com

Jacq

I had the pleasure of reading and reviewing my first comic book autobiography that's all about - you guessed it - a stripper! 

Melody: Story of a Nude Dancer is one of the first autobiographical graphic novels ever published in Canada. The author and artist, Sylvie Rancourt, was a stripper in Montreal in the 1980s. She would write, draw, print, and distribute her comics in the clubs where she danced. Badass, right?

In spite of my recent attempts at being an illustrator, I’m very new to the graphic novel community. My first impression of Melody was surprise at the (ahem)normcore nature of her work. I expected a highly sensationalized story not unlike Pamela Anderson’sStripperella (may Stripperella rest in peace). Melody, however, is quite the opposite: it reads like the visual diary of a girl unsure. Unsure of what? Everything.

The story begins with Melody moving to Montreal with her husband, who suggests she starts dancing to support them while he looks for work. Sheepishly, Melody complies and auditions at a club, Bar 320, where her husband soon starts showing up to sell blow. With a sigh, Melody learns the ins and outs of stage shows, tipping culture, hustle, and fantasy, all the while maintaining ignorance of her husband’s criminal activity. She does, however, start to enjoy performing on stage upon incorporating comedy into her routines with a small hand puppet of a naked man. Alas, management doesn’t understand Melody’s sense of humor and demands that she continue her stages without her micropenis-wielding sidekick. The plot becomes bleaker as Melody gets fired for always being late to work and her husband starts to cut the blow with baking soda and begins also selling hot electronics to Melody’s colleagues and customers.

Rancourt’s account of all this is that Melody passively goes about her work, knowing nothing about her husband’s drug dealing and fencing. I almost wonder, was Rancourt as innocent as she claims Melody was? Or did she claim to know nothing for the sake of her job security at the time? She was, after all, passing around her comics at the clubs where she worked, so presumably she was in a good position to hear club gossip. At times, Melody reads like a testimony to Rancourt’s innocence.

I kept reading because I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the illustrations. Rancourt’s drawings are incredible. She paints these incredible aerial-perspective tableaus of a strip club in full swing. I could stare at these images for hours. A woman splays her limbs on the stage while thought clouds and speech bubbles float above clients of varying ages and ethnicities as they enjoy her performance at the tip rail. A stripper’s mother walks into the club with her boyfriend, so the young dancer hides under a table and gives a random client a blowjob to pass the time. I want a print of that image for my wall.

I also couldn’t stop reading because I wanted it to get better for Melody. I wanted her to find happiness and leave her shitty husband. I wanted her to love stripping like I do.

Read the full article here.