I make no secret of the fact that I used to be a stripper. So you know I know a thing or two about making a living using sensual movement.
But while creating a fantasy through moving my body was a valuable career skill (which brought in far more cash than my PhD), what the movement itself gave me was priceless.
I felt it long before I ever took to the stage.
Our bodies contain magic — that can be channeled for so much than someone else’s fantasy. So much more than enchantment.
We carry great power within our flesh and our bones. Pleasure piques its potency. Movement brings it up to the surface and out into the world.
You know what that means? Yuupp, the goddamn patriarchy catches one whiff of it and tries to burn us at the stake.
That witch burning story has been passed down through the ages and still lives with us today. A flaming incantation. A bloody curse that smothers the inner fire out of women every day.
Frankly, the shit pisses me off. And it fires me up!
It makes me want to gather y’all together and conjure up a twerk fest. Shake the tyrannical bullshit right out of you with some choreographed goddess booty poppin.
And so I do…
You can watch the video here.
Sensual movement is a reclamation.
Shaking that ass, swirling your hips, gyrating in slow sexy motion…
Dancing, whirling, whipping your hair, feeling the beat, reclaiming free…
Letting loose. Belly laughing. FUN having!
It’s a riot. It’s transformation. It’s liberation.
And it’s my job, the best goddamn job on the planet. Creating debauchery at its finest.
Stripcabana was willllld, homie!
So don’t miss the next retreat. I’ll wiggle-jiggle that societal conditioning right out of you. Reignite your spark. Necromancy the shit out of your magic.
Come dance with us. Get on the waitlist and I’ll let you know when we open up spots for the next trip.