I’ve been dancing for three years now, mainly in Montreal, and I’ve seen enough to know that the way it often gets talked about is far from the reality of the industry or ignorant of the most important issues. There’s a tendency to overfocus on the client-dancer relationship, but the most obvious power abuses are usually elsewhere. Following SWAC’s workers’ inquiry into massage parlor conditions, I thought it could be useful to do something similar for strip clubs. I therefore had the pleasure of undertaking interviews with several Montreal dancers – Delilah, Dua, and Cleo – who discussed the realities of the industry and reflected on their experiences. This article is a melting pot of their sometimes diverging but often similar observations.

Security, management and the labor surplus

Most of the dancers interviewed started working out of economic necessity, as their jobs in restaurants or the creative industry didn’t pay enough and were too demanding. One of the interviewees specified however that she had dreamed of becoming a dancer since she was a child. They all agreed that, in terms of time and energy vs. salary, dancing is the best possible job available to them. Nevertheless, like all sex workers, they are impacted by the absence of regulations in the industry. For example, there are no sick days or protections in case of injury. Delilah mentioned that it’s exhausting having to always wear high heels and dance on the pole:

There are so many ways to get hurt or to be put in danger. I have to be careful to conserve my energy and not book too many nights. As a rule, clubs let us skip shifts if we’re sick, but some are really strict and make us prove we’re ill. Otherwise, we can be barred. Some managers pressure us to work a lot of shifts per week; others are more lax. In general, the expensive, “classy” clubs are the most strict.

Several of my interviewees also mentioned that dancers are sometimes fired for ridiculous reasons and that managers are often disrespectful toward them. Dua recounted how one of her co-workers was let go because she talked back to a client who said something racist to her. They also all mentioned the relatively poor sanitary conditions in the clubs. But the interviewees especially underlined how managers and security are generally not there to help them if they need assistance. Cleo described her experience: “In certain clubs, even if I’m screaming in the private booth, they don’t hear me or they don’t care. They kick out clients who don’t buy drinks, but when it comes to the dances, we’re basically our own bosses.” With few exceptions, management generally doesn’t intervene when clients don’t respect the limits of the dancers or refuse to pay. There are certain disrespectful regulars who spend a lot at the bar, and that’s all that matters to the club – their own money.

When I asked them if their experiences varied from club to club, they told me that the clients are basically all the same, good and bad, but the real difference was between managements. Managers abuse their power, dehumanizing and denigrating their employees. Some interviewees had been fired for having broken an arbitrary rule or for some other nebulous reason, without warning. Frequent rule changes seem to be part of the manager’s power trip; they generally make little sense. For example, one club removed the curtains from the private booths during Covid-19, and then never put them back. This affects both the club and the dancer’s revenues, for no clear reason. Another club is now insisting that dancers book their appearances more than two months in advance, where most clubs instead require only a week’s notice. All the interviewees agreed that managements were abusive, although to varying degrees at each place. Cleo commented that she was happy to have started dancing at 25, because she knows how to assert her limits and to not waste her time. She sees managers abusing 18-year-old girls, flirting with them more and putting more pressure on them. She also talked to me about DJs and their habit of interrupting private dances by calling dancers on stage at random moments. “There’s only one club in Montreal where the DJ just does his job, waiting for the girls to be ready to come on stage, but everywhere else we’re always at risk of losing money from the private booths because we get called on stage. It kills the mood for the clients and so the private dance stops there.”

All the dancers interviewed noticed an increase in solidarity between dancers, pointing out that this phenomenon is poorly understood in popular culture. One of the interviewees said that she could see her club unionizing. Another remarked that “the smaller the club, the greater the solidarity, but the bigger clubs can be brutal and competitive. The competition creates rivalries. But in general, I see more mutual aid than competition.” I also asked my interviewees if this general goodwill between workers extended to other parts of the sex work industry, and the answers were mixed. Some of their colleagues are proud to say that they don’t do “more” than dancing, basically saying “I’m not that kind of girl.” Delilah pointed out however that the industry seems to be changing: “the younger girls I work with do more full service than the older ones, as the culture is becoming more open to that sort of thing. Maybe it’s that attitudes are changing, but it’s also probably because of the recession; it’s getting harder and harder to make a living as a dancer.” Many dancers do other forms of sex work but hide it at the strip club. They’re definitely exposed to the judgment of the clients, ranging from those who make moral critiques of them to those who always demand full service in the strip club, where it’s generally forbidden.

Despite the sometimes difficult conditions, all the interviewees agreed that interest in working in the clubs is growing: more and more girls want to dance. Also, clubs book more girls each night. They talked about this hyper-saturation of the labor market possibly being due to the popularization of dancing on social media, especially the multiplication of pole dancers - strippers or otherwise. There’s also maybe less stigma amongst younger people. So the industry is more competitive; fewer and fewer girls get “selected” to dance, reinforcing inequalities in who can access the clubs. Delilah remarked that “there’s lots of fatphobia, ageism, racism, and transphobia in the industry, and especially in the strip clubs. I wish there was at least one trans-friendly club.”

Handling stigma & looking to the future

The interviewees were generally not out to their families or their colleagues in their other workplaces. They talk about stripping to people who are open to sex work, but outside of this bubble, people are shocked or fascinated. Cleo explains: “Sometimes, I feel like explaining my work, sometimes not. It’s hard with guys I’m seeing, they say, ‘Oh, you’re a naughty girl.’” Some talked about experiencing a loss of sexual desire, having less interest in being erotic. One dancer specified that it’s also a health question: she gets yeast infections if she does too many lap dances, so that turns her off of sex. Another point mentioned was the psychological difficulty of being in relationships with men when you’re a sex worker: “It’s easy to find yourself in a toxic relationship, because they get jealous or they don’t respect us fully, even if they sometimes say the opposite.”

As for their financial situations, some are saving up or are going to school in preparation for life after sex work, while others are taking it day by day. They all have personal projects outside of stripping. One explained: “A lot of girls spend all their money. I try to save, but I’m always getting hurt or I need care, so it’s not easy.” Another told me she preferred to concentrate on collective resistance than to work as much as possible to have a financially stable future.

Towards the political organization of the strip club

Finally, I asked them what they thought about decriminalizing sex work. They were all in favor, seeing it as a way to have access to more stable rights at work. However, one of the interviewees had some broader concerns:

In principle, I believe in decriminalization, but in practice I’m not sure. At the end of the day, it would be a good thing for everyone’s safety, but it could take away some of the things that I like about this work. Sex work is work, but it’s not a job; it happens outside of professional norms. I like the no-strings-attached part, I don’t want a boss and I want to choose when I work, so this clandestine reality works for me. I’m happy to not pay taxes and not finance the government’s huge military budget. I worry too that management will take a bigger part of our income. I think the fact that strip clubs aren’t regulated plays in our favor in terms of what we can earn. That said, maybe the possibility of forming a strong union would help us. I understand too that I have the privilege of having other options, and that decriminalization would probably create safer spaces for more marginalized workers.

Another dancer agreed that we would probably end up making a bit less money, but that we could also get unemployment and sick days, making it worth it in the end. Comparing our reality here in Montreal to strip clubs outside of Quebec, she pointed out that we’re quite lucky: “It’s the only place in the world I know where they don’t take a percentage of our earnings, only a bar fee, around $20-60. On that level, we’re really privileged.” However, she also argued that we need rights and security, and that decriminalization is the only way to get this. The road might be long, and there will be highs and lows, but a better future where we can have both good salaries and better working conditions seems possible if we get organized. Two strip clubs in the United States have already unionized. The strippers at Star Garden in LA, after a year and a half of being on strike, included demands such as a cut of the bar profits, freedom to choose their own schedules, getting rid of bar fees, rules around firings and more protection from the clients. “We fought for it, we worked for it, we bled for it, we cried for it. We made history,”¹ said one of those dancers. It’s not unreasonable to believe that we can do it too.

The Sex Work Autonomous Committee (SWAC) is a Montreal-based collective led by and for sex workers, fighting for improved working conditions and the decriminalization of sex work. This article was first published in their annual magazine, SWAC Attacks, their main tool for workplace organizing. This article was also published in French in Revue Ouvrage , an online magazine exploring autonomous theory and praxis. Artwork by Zero.