Abstract
Despite forming a visible, diverse and proliferate part of the night-time economy in the UK, erotic dance – and the commercialization of sex more generally – remains a contentious issue which divides the public, campaign groups and feminist scholarly discourses. While it is unhelpful to view debates coalescing around the sex industry as straightforwardly dichotomous, a split in attitudes is nonetheless present, in which those who view commoditized sex as the epitome of patriarchy sit in contrast to those who consider lap-dancing to be a legitimate form of work. Although in Dirty Dancing? Rachela Colosi refrains from offering an extensive discussion of feminist moral discourses, she reflects an implicit ideology that recognizes the omnipresence of gender inequality but at the same time, acknowledges that sex and the sex industry can empower women, thus providing a way to overcome their subordination.
Having worked as a dancer at ‘Starlets’ before embarking upon this research study, Colosi’s unique position as ‘dancing-ethnographer’ enables her, through prolonged participant observation, to achieve a level of richness in the data unavailable to ‘outsiders’. Although Colosi reflects critically on the difficulties she faced in balancing a ‘duel identity’ of dancer and researcher (p. 10), her status as an ‘insider’ allows her to offer an authentic and nuanced account of lap-dancing occupational culture. This account details the progression of a dancer from their entry route into the industry, to their eventual exit. In so doing, Colosi threads through her ethnography a fascinating exploration of the interaction between dancers and their negotiation of status, filling a notable lacuna in existing scholarly work. Indeed, through the detailed examination of the dancers’ implicitly acknowledged status roles of ‘new girl’, ‘transition’ and ‘old school’, Colosi discusses the fluidity of power dynamics, which she posits as simultaneously complex and contradictory. To this extent, although dancers engage in various emotional and social rituals to facilitate the development of bonds with other dancers – ranging from advice about personal problems to alcohol and recreational drug consumption – unequal power dynamics dictate that ‘old school’ dancers develop their own structures of governance to maintain the status quo and uphold the tacit rules of the club. In so doing, high-status dancers vigilantly monitor ‘rule-breakers’ (p. 128) to uphold house rules, including the prohibition of ‘dirty dancing’ (i.e. sexual contact with customers), while themselves concurrently enjoying ‘old-school privileges’ such as being able to ‘own’ certain customers, work their preferred shift patterns and gain exemption from house rules.
Although in many ways the ever-evolving tacit rules of the club inadvertently function to benefit club managers and owners, Dirty Dancing? also explores how dancers collectively resist authoritarian management. Expressed as symptomatic of broader gender-based discrimination within the UK employment market, Colosi discusses how managers exploit their workers, resulting in increased emotional and psychological pressure upon dancers when they are at their place of work. Indeed, Colosi argues that the status of dancers as ‘self-employed’ ultimately sits in stark juxtaposition to the omnipresent control exerted by management through: obligations to pay fluctuating ‘house fees’; the imposition of fines for lateness or other breaches of house rules; monitoring of dancers’ appearance; and the disrespectful and unprofessional tone of language used to address dancers. That said, Colosi recognizes that dancers of ‘high-status’ may, quite successfully, utilize ‘bargaining tools’ (p. 129) – such as sex and recreational drugs – to negotiate with managers for additional power and social standing within the club.
In her concluding remarks, Colosi draws together an empirically grounded and convincing critique of current licensing rules. For her, the re-licensing of lap-dancing establishments as ‘sexual entertainment venues’ under the Policing and Crime Act 2009 is likely to intensify the stigmatization of dancers since it implies that the purchase of sex is readily available. In a similar vein, she contends that the expected decline in lap-dancing venues following the 2009 Act is likely to force dancers to seek employment in the unregulated freelance ‘stripping’ industry. Interwoven throughout her policy recommendations is an appeal to the UK government to adopt an ‘evidence-based’ approach (p. 171) to policy formulation, based not upon a morally framed and unsubstantiated abolitionist agenda geared towards the complete eradication of commercialized sex. Instead, Colosi advocates an urgent review of policy to reconstruct dancers as legitimate workers, securing the same mandatory employment rights and protection from gendered exploitation as those working in ‘non-sexual’ industries. This view is ideologically similar to Sanders’ (2005) promotion of the ‘professionalization of prostitution’. Colosi should be congratulated for producing a timely contribution to political, methodological and theoretical debates, in a writing style that is accessible to a wide-ranging audience, from the undergraduate student, to sex industry researcher, policy-maker and dancers themselves.