In February, a few of my friends who attend A&M University visited Houston for one of their birthdays. She wanted to go to a strip club, so we dressed up and found one of the only ones in Houston that was 18+. We were a group of four women and one man. I had absolutely no idea what to expect, as my only exposure to strip clubs previously was limited scenes from random movies and mostly through songs. At the club, which was pretty small, we found a table, exchanged for some 1s, and watched the shows. We arrived at around midnight and at that time were basically the only women patrons; everyone else was a man. I am not sure if we would’ve been allowed entry without our male friend.

As it was my first time, and perhaps because I was very sober, I really didn’t know how to act and feel at the club. It was very stark, seeing the women dance on stage and circle between patrons, whoever was giving them money. Sometimes they’d do their whole dance and only get a little bit of money. Our group tried to be generous, as it felt polite, but I also felt uncomfortable throwing money and having it fall on the floor. I didn’t know if certain actions were degrading or if I was not giving the dancers credit for their own agency. As one of the few women patrons, I almost felt like I was invading the space. I wanted to be respectful of the women working there but wasn’t sure how to. The experience was very gendered and heteronormative, so I thought I could investigate some articles about the gender roles in strip clubs and compare it to my own experiences through this blog post. 

Katherine Frank wrote about regular male customers’ visits to strip clubs as touristic and masculinizing practices. From her conversations with customers, she finds that the venue offers an “environment where men, singularly or in groups, can engage in traditionally ‘masculine’ activities and forms of consumption often frowned upon in other spheres, such as drinking, smoking cigars, and even being ‘rowdy’, vulgar, or aggressive” (65). I definitely observed this behavior later in the night, as groups of men came in and were dancing on the sides of the stage to the music, drinking and enjoying throwing their cash, and even taking videos on their phone (I’m assuming for social media) of their friends singing along and jumping around (you are not allowed to take videos of the dancers). When we first arrived, most patrons were sitting and simply watching. Every so often someone would get up and approach a dancer, dancing with them and holding onto them. I think these are the examples of aggressive or vulgar behaviors Frank is referring to above. This observation reminds me of the conversations we’ve had in class about hegemonic masculinity and gender as a practice. While being aggressive and rowdy may be thought of as a masculine practice, these men related to Frank that those behaviors are frowned upon in their homes. Just because something represents masculine traits doesn’t mean it is acceptable. Men feel like they’re acting out their prescribed gender role but only feel empowered to do that in this particular space. There must be other practices outside of the clubs that embody a masculinity but are more acceptable. Frank draws on Connell here, explaining “to say that a practice is ‘masculinizing’ does not mean that it always or unproblematically constructs a particular stable kind of male subjectivity” (67). 

Another important point Frank makes is how the men enjoy the strip club because their interactions with women are easier to navigate and more relaxing than the ones they have in the home, in the workplace, and in the dating/sex world. I believe this relates to how we’ve talked in class about identity and gender being relational, constituted by how you interact with other people and how they react to you. The men Frank interviewed said “they found the clubs relaxing because they provided an escape from the rules of conduct and the social games involved into entering interactions with women in an unregulated setting… there is no longer need for pretenses, specific social niceties, elaborate plans, or mutual exchanges of personal information” (65). Customers at strip clubs can approach any woman and not fear rejection or failure to satisfy her, and when they leave they don’t have to worry about maintaining that relationship emotionally, physically, or otherwise. While we were there, a man grabbed my hand as we were walking past to the bathroom and insisted we hang out with him and give him our numbers. We refused a few times, finally conceding that we’d talk to him after we got back from the bathroom, and he let us go. I was a little nervous on our way back as we still had to walk past him, but he didn’t bother us and was watching someone perform. I think in that interaction, we experienced the different attitude towards approaching women that wouldn’t be pursued outside the strip club, and also the heteronormative assumption that we would be interested in him anyway, and not the performers. Frank is careful to explain that these men don’t necessarily want their lives at home or outside of the club to resemble these interactions, but in the midst of changing expectations of how a (primarily middle class) man should act, it can be confusing, and sometimes it is nice to have a change of pace. With this connection, we can see that again, masculinity is changing based on context and the expectations of those around you. 

Frank, Katherine. “‘Just Trying to Relax’: Masculinity, Masculinizing Practices, and Strip Club Regulars.” The Journal of Sex Research, vol. 40, no. 1, 2003, pp. 61–75. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/3813771. Accessed 27 Mar. 2020.