She Said: Sex Show Was Raw, Yet Real

By Connect Mason Reporter Rachael Dickson

Kirk Read and The World Famous Bob Photo by Randy Urick

From the moment the first performer started taking off his pants and started talking about a client sticking a finger up his ass, I knew that I was about to see a show unlike any other I had ever seen.

The very name, "The Sex Worker’s Art Show," conjures up visions of the down and dirty revelations of professionals and of one of the world’s oldest and most profitable industries. Before the show, I discovered in my research that one of the performers had the unique talent of being able to mix a martini with her cleavage.

The show itself was beyond my wildest expectations. I saw a woman fly around a stripper pole singing like she was Fred Astaire in “Singing in the Rain.” My mouth gaped wide open as Dirty Martini, a famed burlesque dancer, stripped down from a red, white and blue spangled dress to patriotic lingerie, until finally, she was standing in front of the audience with two star pasties over her nipples and a small American flag covering her "va-jay-jay." All to the tune of Dolly Parton singing “I’m Proud to be an American.”

The whole thing was just such a fun romp in the world of sex, stripping and pornography that I left smiling. However, the difficulty I had with the show even while enjoying it also really opened my eyes to the unconscious anxieties and fears I share with so many others towards sex and sexuality. Despite my growing awareness that in college, conversation about sex is socially acceptable and far from taboo, I was surprised to find how many unconscious issues I still had with such in-your-face sexuality as I saw at the Art Show.

These were men and women taking off their clothes, both literally and figuratively, and baring their bodies, souls and stories to the world. It was raw, startling, sensual and completely real- my mouth hung open for much of the time in pure astonishment and shock. These performers told their stories of tricks turned, porn scenes filmed, blow jobs given, with an honesty that was nothing shameful, and was simply out there and true.

At the very beginning of the show, director Annie Oakley spoke of the anonymity Americans so often like in the products they consume. We don’t want to know about the cow our hamburger came from. We don’t want to know about the country our oil came from. And as a society, we certainly don’t want to know the stories of those who cater to our baser, more sensuous needs. Yet this show ruptured that anonymity and caused me to see these people in a way I had never seen before.

I thought the show’s description of its cast members as geniuses and artists beforehand to be, a little overkill, to say the least, however, by the end of it, I was thoroughly convinced of the veracity of this statement. These artists managed to entertain me, shock me and make me seriously consider the very building blocks of our society. I only wish those so close-minded to the show’s message could just get over the nudity and start seeing the people underneath.