blue tattoo

A group of young women dress up and walk the stage of the Blue Tatoo night club a few times a year. I met a young lady just starting her education at California State Berkeley, a single mother of two , a few women working in department stores and a make up artist. They did not get paid, nor did they need to do this to make ends meet. One of the woman asked if I thought what they were doing was wrong and suggested that I should go up on stage myself.

I wondered what it would feel like to be infront of a couple hundred people.  Would I feel vulnerable, beautiful, powerful, or would I feel exploited?  I thought of the courage it took to stand on stage and know that they are all looking at you. Your body its beauty and its inperfections all exposed.  What would I hope to see, feel? Would it be lust, love, or admiration that filled my eggo? I observed the way that they confidently walked to the stage and the power they held as each person stopped what they were doing to stare at them and wait for their next move. They walked to the end of the stage and performed.  They each walked back elegantly to pick up a rose a young man held out to them.

As they came off stage their facial expressions varied and I woundered what that experiene had left them with and why I could not do it myself.