Ruby Rage. Picture taken from www.nydailynews.com
Nothing
like a little righteous indignation to kick off a blog and get the muse firing
on all cylinders. Welcome, dear readers. Let’s discuss a subject that is near
and dear to my heart: Burlesque.
No,
I’m not talking about the 2010 enjoyably schlocky film that featured Cher and
Christina Aguilera (and was more about Cabaret, really). If you are unfamiliar with burlesque,
please, mine away at this performance art and delight in the gold you will
undoubtedly find. It is a varied art form with a long history that I won’t get
into right now, because that’s an entire series of novels, and I’m still
waiting on that meet-cute with the publisher of my dreams.
If
you have been following the news, chances are you might have come across
articles within the last few days trumpeting the headlines: New Orleans performer Ruby
Rage says Bourbon St. club Lucky Pierre's 'body shamed' her (www.nydailynews.com)
or something similar on an assortment of news outlets.
In a nutshell, burlesque performer
Ruby Rage lost her gig at Lucky Pierre’s in New Orleans due to her size. According to Rage, Lucky Pierre’s management no longer found
her desirable to perform in their Blue Book Cabaret, even though she has been
performing at the club for about a year. Having none of it, Rage went public
with the reason she was let go, and for that I salute her.
What
followed was blowback from the burlesque community, the majority of which came
to Rage’s defense. Lucky Pierre’s Facebook page addressed the upset by wavering
between a narrow view of what burlesque is (“Let's face the facts, in the long
history of the art there is an expected image” is one head scratching status
opener) and all out self-pitying reproach of the supposed “mob mentality” that
has turned against the establishment in the wake of the controversy (you can
read the entirety of Lucky Pierre’s defense over their decision on their
Facebook page, if you so choose).
I am
not a burlesque performer (though I have fantasized of being one) and I am not
involved in the production or backstage efforts of said shows (again, would
love to be). So I cannot offer insights on this issue from that perspective.
Allow
me to give my thoughts as an audience member and avid fan of burlesque.
Burlesque
wasn’t even a blip on my personal radar until 2007. That’s when a lovely,
ingenious friend invited me to her recital performance after completing Miss
Indigo Blue’s Academy of Burlesque classes in Seattle.
I
had no idea what to expect. My only conception of burlesque came from snippets
of the 1993 TV film Gypsy starring Bette Midler and Cynthia Gibb, and even then, it didn’t
hang around in the forefront of memory retention.
So
in October 2007, I sat in the intimate Jewelbox Theatre waiting for the show to
start. What followed was sheer gladness, and a revelation that incited my
fascination with burlesque that has yet to fade away.
Women
of all ages, shapes and sizes shared the stage that night. Several genres of
music played to a plethora of acts that were sexy, funny, spooky, sweet, spicy,
badass and beautiful. There were perky boobs, saggy boobs, big butts, small
butts, belly bulge and flat abdominals, straight smiles, and crooked teeth. I
was thrilled, I was carried away, and I saw a little of myself in every one of
those performers. They allowed me to share their experience, and I’m not
ashamed to say I was a smitten kitten when it was all said and done. My friend,
Mercury Troy, went on to grace the burlesque world with her own intrepid brand
of drama and it’s a treat to keep up with her goings-on (in a shameless plug,
if you have the chance to catch a show of hers in Los Angeles, you should).
Since
that memory was made in 2007, I have had a chance to attend more burlesque
shows in Seattle, Olympia and Spokane, and I try to catch a show whenever I can
(the nearest troupe is almost an hour and half away, so it’s not always
convenient, but the effort is worth it). The more you see, the more you realize
the breadth of burlesque and the numerous kinds of people that call it home.
It’s as diverse as the folk that walk this earth, and that’s what makes it a
blast to watch.
In
the wake of what happened with Ruby Rage at Lucky Pierre’s, my point is that,
as an audience member, I have no interest in seeing one type of body presented
to me from a performance art that birthed its resurgence on the idea that it
honestly doesn’t matter what you look like, as long as you get up on that stage
and do your damnedest. For the management of Lucky Pierre’s to try and project
their lack of burlesque knowledge and body shaming on their crowd by claiming,
“This is what everyone expects Burlesque to look like” is just a weak excuse.
Entertain
me, tease me, tantalize me, but please don’t try to tell me one size fits all.
As a
paying patron, I won’t buy it.
