I performed last night in the well-known Hubba Hubba Revue in San Francisco. It was, I have to say, a total freakin’ blast. After this, just my third official burlesque(-ish) performance, I can feel myself becoming more comfortable on stage: our “reveal” number doesn’t make my legs quiver and most the of time, my feet did what I wanted them too. There were no awful wardrobe malfunctions or screw ups. On top of all that, there was an adoring, warm audience. Which makes all the difference.
I had some friends watching the show – which was awesome. And I loved to be able to see the cheering people in the first few rows. Does that make me an attention fiend? I suppose that anyone performing burlesque probably loves attention – otherwise why would you strip down to pasties and a g-string in front of a crowd? But I sometimes ask myself why I’m doing it. If I’m into the art or into the attention.
I love the amalgam of theater and performance and dancing and pure sexuality of burlesque. I love that the power lies with the performer, rather than the audience. I love that burlesque can be (and usually is) funny and melodramatic and sexy and smart all at the same time. I love that it cannot be labeled. And maybe that’s why I love it: because I don’t want to be labeled either, yet I struggle with how to do that.
Yes, I’m a burlesque performer.
Yes, I’m an English teacher. And a writer. And a daughter. And a girlfriend.
And I’m so much more than even that (isn’t everyone?).
