Author: alex

chicago columbia college journalism + graphic design + art history lover of literature, strawberries and dirty boots

interview with a burlesque dancer

Nestled between a CVS Pharmacy and a parking garage stand resilient, liquid black doors. Gold Coast tourists and tenants alike obliviously overlook the gateways to an era nearly forgotten by Chicago; it doesn’t help that this lounge is entitled Untitled. Whiskey vaults and thick leather armchairs occupy the elite and the informed. Complementary Marlboro 27s entice the ladies, planted in between perfume and hairbrushes in the dimly lit restrooms.

Clad in pink panties and her boyfriend’s black tee, Amanda Gonzalez* sits at the center table in her Edgewater home, surrounded by glitter, beads and lumps of fabric designing her latest costume. This 28-year-old Los Angeles native discusses the confidence-boosting, depression-combating, female-empowering art that distinguishes her uniquely as Siobast: Burlesque.

Tell me about burlesque.
Burlesque is about the art of teasing. It’s stripping, but it’s not just stripping. Not that stripping is wrong or anything like that, I’m all for it. Burlesque is about teasing and having fun. I’m all about empowering human beings. In burlesque, girls can feel like they are beautiful and empowered. For me, that’s how it started. I would see girls like Dita Martini and think, ‘Oh my god she’s so curvy! And beautiful! And sexy! And fun! And she’s having a blast! I want to do that!’ But also project that for other women who feel like they can’t be models. It’s an artistic outlet and a way to express myself. I try to make other people also feel like they can do this; that this is for everyone, not just one specific body type. It’s not about sex. It’s about whoever puts themselves out there and says, ‘I want to do burlesque.’

What sparked your interest?
Burlesque is something that seemed attractive to me from the very first time I saw it. The feathers. The glitter. The attitude. The teasing. For someone that fluctuates in weight so much and has so many issues with body image and the way I feel about myself, it seemed like a ring to my finger. It just fit perfect. I can get all of the attention I want on stage and then I don’t have to act all crazy in real life. I really like that I can take my clothes off, because that’s just fun. Period.

Do you have a day job, so to speak?
I am a server in a restaurant downtown. It’s definitely just a pays the bills type of job, but I do get inspiration because I hear awesome music, and think, ‘Oh! I should do a classical musical piece to this!’ It’s white table clothes and velvet booths. It’s a great place and I love it, but it’s no Paris Club.

Do you make money dancing, or is it more of a hobby?
I feel like I’m getting paid to party. I don’t make any money to pay the bills, but I make money to be out that night and do what I want, and a little extra for something else. It’s really money sucking because there’s always another costume and another act and another idea.

It sounds pretty addicting.
Oh it is. It’s extremely addicting, in a great way. The artistic outlet aspect is what’s the most compensating from it. It’s almost even a way to deal with depression. I was depressed for a really long time. It’s kind of saddening, but I didn’t want to be here, I hated this place. This life place? It’s awful. People hate each other and treat each other like crap. I’m sitting here by myself playing Farmville because everyone sucks and I don’t like anyone and they don’t like me and it’s so stupid. Then I found this and everything made sense. It’s almost like therapy, making and creating. I’m sure people find this in other outlets. Firefighters, I’m sure, feel empowered. Doctors feel, you know, they’re doing awesome things. But for those of us who don’t have the education, the funds, or downright the brains to do something of that level, there’s little outlets you can find. This is it for me. This is what I love to do. Maybe that will change but for now, this is it.

Are there any public misconceptions about burlesque?
Absolutely. I get a lot of the eye rolling, ‘Oh… you’re a stripper…” Well first off being a stripper isn’t something to be embarrassed about. Not that I’m not, but burlesque is not just stripping. All that sexism and shit really upsets me. If you’re a burlesque dancer, you must be a party girl, that’s a huge misconception. A lot of these women are serious women and have serious jobs. They have their own families and do it because they like it, not because they want to party all the time or be drunk all the time. I personally am. A lot of my peers are not. After the show they put on their jeans, they go home and in the morning they go to the office.

Have you ever dealt with uncomfortable situations?
Personally, it hasn’t happened. The venues I have worked for have been really great about things like that. It’s definitely starting to be addressed, which is a great thing… But which shouldn’t really be addressed in the burlesque scene, it should be addressed in any environment you’re in. Don’t fucking touch someone unless they told you to, you know?

How did you come up with your stage name?
I’m an animal freak. I love my cat and felines have been a big part of my life. I love all animals, but felines are what I’m particularly about. And you know, Kat Von D, there’s a lot of kitties and cats. I didn’t want to be just another cat. Bast is an Egyptian goddess portrayed as a black cat, a lot of times with dark eyes. Which is pretty awesome because I have black hair and dark eyes. If I were a feline, I would be a black jaguar.

*Name changed to protect identity.

This interview has been condensed and edited.

keep typing until it turns into writing

Being a journalist, I never feel bad talking to journalism students because it’s a grand, grand caper. You get to leave, go talk to strangers, ask them anything, come back, type up their stories, edit the tape. That’s not gonna retire your loans as quickly as it should, and it’s not going to turn you into a person who’s worried about what kind of car they should buy, but that’s kind of as it should be. I mean, it beats working.

David Carr

god bless you, mr. rosewater

Hello, babies. Welcome to Earth. It’s hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It’s round and wet and crowded. At the outside, babies, you’ve got about a hundred years here. There’s only one rule that I know of, babies—God damn it, you’ve got to be kind.

Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

on it getting out

I spent the month of January in Europe with Columbia College Chicago’s journalism department. My classmates and I were required to blog about our trip throughout the duration of the course, and I sort of really loved it.

Every writer tells themselves that they’ll start blogging. They’ll turn those 3am thoughts scribbled on cocktail napkins into narratives and actually finish the poems written during the cab ride home in the Notes application on their phones.

I’ve been telling myself this for years. I’ve got the half-filled Moleskins and heroic couplets to prove it.

After being forced to blog, I became addicted to it. When something remotely interesting happened, I would immediately think, “That would make a great blog post.” I thought that once I left Europe I would stop analyzing my day-to-day routine. If anything, I’ve begun to do it even more.

There’s a strange pleasure in blogging. It’s cathartic. It’s therapy, minus an uncomfortable chair and narcissistic woman asking me questions about my mother and kindergarten crush.

So I’m getting it out. All of the noise clogging my head and opinions that I can’t express. All of my bad ideas and amazing mistakes. I’m getting it out of my head. Out of my iPhone. Out of my diary and onto something I can’t crumple up and throw away when it doesn’t work out the way I planned it to. Something that requires me to be responsible for my words and actions and actually learn from all the dumb, reckless things I do.

Maybe someone else could learn from them, too.

invisible food

One out of five American children are hungry. Feeding America, the country’s largest hunger relief organization with more than 200 food depositories located through America, reported that children suffer the most from hunger. “It’s never a child’s fault that they don’t have enough to eat,” Nikki Grizzle, Director of Marketing and Public Relations for the nation-wide children’s charity, Blessings in a Backpack, said, “so why should they suffer?” Children who are malnourished for an extended amount of time can suffer mental, physical and cognitive disorders, according to Ross Fraser, the Director of Media Relations at Feeding America. James Conwell, the Communications Manager of The Greater Chicago Food Depository, reported that within Cook County, one out of four children are hungry, whereas the national average is one out of five. “It’s kind of an invisible issue,” Fraser said.

Continue reading invisible food

atalanta and the lion

Atalanta (noun): A huntress who would marry only someone who could beat her in a foot race. She was beaten when a suitor threw down three golden apples, which she stopped to pick up[1]. According to Greek mythology, Atalanta’s father left her to die on a mountaintop, for she was not the son he had desired. Legend has it that bears cared for Atalanta until hunters had found her. She was raised in the wilderness, apart of a wild pack of family bears. Atalanta was a fierce and female and happy huntress who was utterly uninterested in men; she took an oath of virginity to the goddess Artemis. Her father eventually returned to his daughter and demanded she wed, despite her lack of desire for marriage. A game was thus proposed. A competition. Those who lost to her in the foot race would be killed. The winner? Her husband. With help from the goddess Aphrodite, a young man Hippomenes was given three golden apples to roll on the ground during the race; slowing Atalanta down, for they were irresistible to her. Zeus turned the couple into lions after they made love in once of his sacred temples. Other legends say Aphrodite turned them into lions because they didn’t honor her. Lions could not mate within their own species – only with leopards. Atalanta and Hippomenes would never be together again. Underhandedly, Atalanta was given the opportunity to once again be alone in the wild. Returned to her independence. Free.

Continue reading atalanta and the lion