The Emotional Toll of Stripping (And How I Handled It)
So, hi there, bohos! Welcome back to the blog! This morning, I woke up and wanted to write a post about the emotional toll of sex work and stripping. In our society, we tend to glamorize this industry and make it seem so easy; you can make all this money and…
Practically consequence-free? I am here to tell you that this is far from the truth, and I believe any other sex worker would agree with me.
Let’s discuss a topic that doesn’t get enough attention: the emotional aftermath of a night at the club. Not the drama, not the dollar bills flying, nor the sparkly outfits and stage lights—the feelings that hit you when you’re alone in bed the following day. It’s something I wish I had heard more about when I started dancing and something I know many dancers experience but seldom talk about.
Post Shift Blues
One of the biggest emotional tolls of dancing hits you after the shift. You’ve flirted, put on a show, made your money—and in the best case, you’re headed home feeling satisfied. But then the next day hits. You’re tired, maybe hungover, and often alone. You look at the stack of cash on the nightstand and think, Was it worth it?It’s not quite sadness, not quite regret—just a weird emotional hangover that no one really talks about.
I’d walk my dog or look around my apartment and think, Well, I paid for this. But then I’d remember something from the night—a comment, a touch I didn’t want, or just that damn strip club song stuck in my head. Something always lingered.
The isolation the next day was real, especially if your friends don’t make that kind of money or don’t get the job. That’s why it got easier for me after I came out as a dancer. Hiding it meant pretending to be broke and constantly worrying someone would find out. Being open gave me support—whether from my partner, friends, or eventually even my family. Because let’s be real: you’re not finding emotional support in the club.
Emotional Masking
Inside the club, you’re expected to be endlessly happy and flirty, even when you’re struggling. It’s emotional labor, pretending you’re having the time of your life, and it’s exhausting. Add in moments where boundaries get crossed—maybe someone kissed your neck or got too handsy—and that only adds to the toll. Sure, you could kick them out, but usually, you just manage the situation to keep the money flowing.
It’s not just about what happens at work; it’s also about trying to balance your outside life—your goals, your health, your sanity—while working nights. For dancers who are still in the shadows, this can mean having to pretend in front of people who don’t know what you do. Living this double lifestyle can lead to burnout quickly.
How I Handled It
But I want to be clear: it isn't all bleak and bad news. After I came out, things became easier. I’ll post more on how to do that later, but for now, just know this—you don’t have to tell everyone, but you should tell someone. A friend, a therapist, or a family member. For me, it started with friends, then I told my parents and siblings, and eventually, I found online forums and started this blog. That made a significant difference.
Another thing that helped was authentic self-care- not just a face mask, though I recommend doing that if it helps. For me, it meant having a big brunch the following day- something to look forward to. I also went to the gym, did yoga, or attended women-only fitness classes like barre or Pilates—anything to feel grounded and take a break from being around men for a while.
Also, stay in the moment. Don’t spiral over what happened or didn’t happen at the club, or what you could have done instead to earn more money. Yesterday is done, so don’t beat yourself up over it. Take what you need and move on. There’s always the next night or weekend.
And most importantly, boundaries. I never offered extras. That’s a personal choice—no shade if you do—but for me, I knew I’d rather walk away with less money than compromise what I was comfortable with. Knowing your boundaries and sticking to them is key to lasting in this job without losing yourself.
In the end, if you define your worth by how much money you make every night, burnout and low self-esteem will come quickly. So, plan ahead. Find joy outside the club. Create goals. Celebrate your life beyond the hustle.
Stripping isn’t for everyone. But if you build a support system, come out to at least one trusted person, and put yourself first, you’ll find it gets easier. That’s why I lasted as long as I did—and why I can look back now with some pride and peace.
Acknowledge the emotional toll. Especially in the beginning, it’s easy to brush it off like it’s no big deal. But over time, if you don’t face it, it builds up. It’s okay to admit that. It’s okay to feel it.
If you’re reading this and nodding, know you are not alone. Every dancer I know has felt this weight at some point. Whether it’s the isolation, the secrets, the stress, or feeling far from who you are, you’re not the only one.
Find your people. Take care of your mind. And remember: the most empowering thing you can do is prioritize your well-being.
Love & glitter,
BW
