Member-only story
A Lesson on Love, Class, & Race: How Men Viewed Me When I Was Just An Exotic Stripper at a Hood Club
They say I was naive. Maybe I was, but at the heart of it, they were willfully ignorant. And that’s far worse for the soul — and the world.
She was a dancer when I met her
I told her you can do better
But fuck it, and look what you get it’s some cheddar
Baby gon’ ball forever
Make a whole lot of money, have a whole lot of sex
Took a project bitch, put her straight on the jet
Took a West Side ho, got her throwin’ up her set
I just put some ice on my baby (put some ice, yeah)
Don’t care none ‘bout no price for my baby (for my baby)
Hundreds on hundreds, money on money
— Yung Blu, Ice on My Baby
One night, my partner called me up after I had already laid down for bed. He sounded out of breath and upset. “Girl, why you so open about your past? My family found out you used to be a dancer.”
I furrowed my eyebrows a bit, and set the book down I had been claiming I was reading all month but…
