Lap dancing

The truth about life as a lap-dancer

Popularised by stars such as Rihanna, lap-dancing clubs have doubled in number in less than a decade. Yet, the reality is degrading and psychologically damaging, says one former dancer

n the two years Jennifer Hayashi Danns worked as a lap-dancer, she never met a woman who danced sober. Some took cocaine, the rest drank – whether they drove to work or not. At her worst point, Danns would have a bottle of wine before work, half a bottle while getting ready, and drink steadily through her shift. How else, she asks, could she walk up to strangers and ask if they wanted her to take her clothes off?

"One of the biggest misunderstandings is that to look good is enough – I don't think people have any idea how much you need to hustle," she says. "The men can say yes or no, and one of the extraordinary things is they will list the reasons why. So, they will go: 'No, your tits aren't big enough.'"

The rise of lap-dancing clubs has, at times, seemed unstoppable. A veneer of respectability had been created by well known figures such as Stephen Hawking, and recently, Rihanna visiting them – along with reports of an increasing number of female customers. Pole-dancing has become a hen night staple, and made frequent appearances in pop concerts by stars such as Miley Cyrus and Britney Spears.

The number of lap-dancing clubs has doubled since 2004 to 300, according to estimates by campaign group Object, who link this to them being licensed like other pubs or clubs – making it hard for local people to prevent their opening. But Dr Kate Hardy from the University of Leeds says their prevalence, and high-street presence, is possible only because the dancers "pay" to work there through "house fees" and commissions on each dance; effectively taking on the financial risks. Even if demand drops therefore, the clubs are still viable.

Her recent study of 300 lap-dancers found a third were students (including undergraduates, vocational course students and graduate students). And she says the increase in university tuition fees will "undoubtedly" mean more women turn to lap-dancing. Female youth unemployment is at a high, and with cuts in the public sector that hit women hardest, finding alternative jobs is increasingly difficult.

Since April this year there had been a fightback from councils after new legislation re-classified the clubs as "sex entertainment venues". Around 11 councils have brought in a "nil policy" – saying sex entertainment venues are unsuitable in their borough; others have brought in restrictions on numbers. In "nil policy" areas with existing clubs, owners will have to apply for new licenses that are unlikely to be granted – effectively closing them down. Eight clubs in North Tyneside may close after the policy comes into force in February, while in Tower Hamlets councillors are awaiting the results of a public consultation that could determine the future of their 11 clubs.

Despite their prevalence, Danns says, few understand what happens behind their doors. Now she has written a book, collecting stories from other women with campaigner Sandrine Levêque to offer a glimpse into a murky industry.

Sitting at a kitchen table in the cosy London flat the 27-year-old insists she is not calling for a ban, because it would not challenge the underlying sexist culture that allows them to flourish. But she does want to explode some myths. In her strong Liverpool accent she says: "People think it's charming and cheeky – men chasing topless girls around like in a Carry On film." Instead, she says, there is a ruthless competition – with women resorting to masturbating for the customers or ignoring no-touching rules to earn enough to pay the fees. Others tell of security staff and managers turning a blind eye to men groping, insulting or even threatening the women.

Danns started lap-dancing in her early 20s. She shifts in her chair uneasily as she admits that, despite her family's emphasis on education and intellect, she was more influenced by the racism she had experienced growing up as a mixed-race child in a white area of Merseyside. "Because the way our culture is set up, as a girl you want to be thought of as beautiful. But when I was young, I wasn't perceived as attractive because I was black ... so when I became older and people were praising me for my looks it was an extraordinary feeling."

Keen to go to university, she saw lap-dancing as flexible and easy money, and because it was one of the few places which did not allow full nudity, she started dancing topless in Blackpool. "It was only a tiny thong but it was important to me because it meant I wasn't fully nude," she says.

Naively, she believed the dancing would be fun, glamorous and she would be able to pick her customers , which was not true. "Sometimes I was really repulsed because they had been drinking so heavily, but also it was age. When it was for someone 45 and above I would have in the back of my head: 'You probably have a daughter.' I would make a moral judgment on them, but I would still dance for them. And I think this can be psychologically damaging because it becomes a question of what you will do for money."

It was just one of the compromises she found herself making. "It's like an abusive relationship where you get worn down slowly – your morality gets worn down, your self esteem gets worn down. But you are there because you have put yourself there. That's what can be damaging."

Then she found herself struggling to make a profit after her £80 house fee. "When the money dropped," she writes, "so did my personal standards … I went to other clubs where I performed full strip. The first time I pulled my knickers down I felt my soul fall out."

Other dancers in her book report club rules being cast aside. In fully nude clubs, one former lap-dancer says, women would do handstands while spreading their legs, or allow customers to touch them .

The often-rehearsed idea that lap-dancing can be empowering, or make women feel beautiful is nonsense, says Danns, when explicit insults are common. Nearly half of lap-dancers in the Leeds study reported frequent verbal harrassment and unwanted touching. "They call you names, comment on your body, or your cellulite, and certainly [I know] from other women's experiences, comment on your genitalia saying 'that's big'," Danns says. "How can you raise your self esteem through that? If you are going to take the compliments you have to take the insults."

She became a commodity. "In my personal life if men said to me, 'I'm really into black girls,' I would think, 'what an arsehole,' because they are treating you as a species and as though all black women are identical. But in a lap-dancing club it's almost inevitable – you are reduced to your component parts." Her confident relationship with her body crumbled too. Nine months into her lap-dancing career, Danns had a breast enlargement.

Much of her custom was rowdy young groups of men keen to show off to friends. "There's something psychologically unhealthy about it ... All you have done is picked the woman you think is the most attractive and paid her – but now you want a round of applause, isn't that strange?"

In one of the more disturbing chapters, a sex worker describes punters who came straight from lap-dancing clubs as unwilling to acknowledge that women were "human or individual": "There was a very aggressive 'pack mentality' and they would … make very degrading comments about the way that women looked … they invariably asked for group sex – it seemed important for them to have sex in front of their friends."

Danns says the emphasis was always on women's submission and anything that marked her as an equal, from education to age, would be hidden. "It's about power and you play into that."

Finally, she says, she decided that: "putting myself in that situation was disrespecting myself, and undervaluing the contribution I could make to life". Yet it was not until she left that she realised how damaging lap-dancing could be. "While you are dancing you don't talk about it – because if you are not going to stop, what possible value is there in letting [those thoughts] fester? That's why I would question research which only talks to people who are still working."

Danns hopes her book will persuade others that this industry harms men and women alike. "There's something uncomfortable and unbalanced in a fully clothed man paying a woman to strip naked."