Creation in Isolation: Brianne Agnizle

Life's A Dance, But We Can't Get Paid

By The Editors

Like many workers, Brianne Agnizle found herself on the sidelines after the club she works at closed indefinitely due to the pandemic. But filing for unemployment, the advice given to many furloughed and laid off workers, isn't a possibility for Agnizle. Like many other dancers across the country, there are limited to no protections for any type of sex worker, regardless of their essential role in clubs across the county. 

​Even during these times, Agnizle's voice is far from silenced. Her piece, "I'm Sorry I Said Your Other Name", was featured in South 85's Fall and Winter 2019 issue and she is currently working on her memoir. We speak with her about the memoir, the stigma against sex work, and the Italian Mafia. 
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Dancing and sex work are still stigmatized in a lot of places. What needs to happen for this to change?

Honestly, that’s difficult to say! I believe that sex work won’t ever be completely cleansed of its “dirty” connotations that we will continue to be associated with, immutably—these are historic overtones that are impossible to dismantle and rebuild, and this extends beyond just stripping or sex work: the rules of sexual etiquette are embedded in the foundation of the codes of morality, and we break them by suggesting that the public sphere is also formatted for displays of heightened, performative sexuality. In this way, we create societal disturbance, especially as women at the frontier. The headlines never read “Hunter Biden and mother of his child reach deal in child support case,” it’s always “Hunter Biden and former stripper reach deal in child support case.” Thanks, Page Six, and the two writers responsible for that article on Joe Biden’s son’s personal affairs (Elizabeth Rosner and Tamar Lapin, gag me with a spoon).

The word “stripper” in the news attracts interest—what’s the scandal? In reality, we really shouldn’t belong on or to anyone’s biased political agendas. If politics are the fundament of nationalized operational control over public opinion, remove us as persuasive evidence to your bias. It starts at the ground level—change and acceptance starts there. Until then (if there is a “then”), I think it’s best if we all, on an individual level, consider “what’s so shameful about that?” Making money with my ass? Shameful? I don’t know what you’re talking about...anyways, aren’t there better things to feel represent corruption?

You’re enrolled in an MFA program and writing a book about your experiences as a dancer. How are both mediums essential to the arts?

So, yes! I am currently writing a book of stories that are centralized around the tiny hick-town strip-club I was dancing at in the slummed-out boonies of rural Michigan, going back over two years now. This project caught the interest of my mentors in the program, and in their interest, they encouraged me to continue after I turned in a quick sketch of one such story. That was a year ago. Without that guidance and support, I don’t think I would’ve kept going with it. I enjoy retelling the stories, but I am most hoping to use each of them to explain some facet of the huge, complicated nature of the strip-club—for example, the Italian Mafia (I am practically certain it was, and I have my reasons) came into the club for a visit, and while there, they were folding cocaine in dollar bills and passing them to girls under the table. Drugs come through often enough, with people trying to sell them to us, or offer them, or are looking where to buy them, in every strip-club I’ve worked at. It is thematic. This one story in itself is one I think interesting, but also, like the others, I hope to use it to discourse something more macro, approaching “the strip-club” as an institutional structure with a unique social conduct. With this one on the Italian Mafia, I focus especially on the aspect of the inherent deviancy you find in the strip-club (I define “deviancy” in this context as the “alignment with deviation from normalized moral character”). No one, it seems, just walks into any other public venue and assumes the employees would accept drugs from a random customer, and too, without fear! So, why is that? Although that story only happened once, what I am discoursing still happens every night I work, and I don’t mean the drugs, but the deviancy—I go in looking for evidence, with a question in mind: “in what ways can I provide reasoning that the strip-club is inherently deviant?” searching for anything that could support my argument. There is this element of lawlessness in there—what is lying dormant and suppressed deep inside people comes unfurled. It’s really human, and it is absolutely like no other place, not in “America.” The club is closed for now, so I have to pend some of this “research.” In undergrad, one of my majors was sociology, so I think such phenomena draws out my curiosity. I want to figure it all out, and I’m enjoying writing about it. As far as actual dancing is concerned, as in what I do on stage, I am still terribly unbalanced, but haven’t thought too much about it as a medium of art that corresponds with writing. I could, though! That’d be a very cool idea!

How has COVID-19 affected your career and your personal life?

As the bars have shut down, I am unable to generate steady income, like all other bartenders, servers, and chefs we work with, and not to mention countless others who’re out of work. I don’t think many consider that strippers too are part of the bar industry, but it’s different for us because (at least for myself) we are not employed by the club, but as “private contractors,” even though we need the venue open to be able to work. It’s a difficult situation, I’m not sure unemployment will be an available option for strippers, and I think it’s especially going to be more difficult to bring attention to our situation in particular. I’m out of work, and I really miss my girls, a lot. We’re all keeping in touch through this big, scary thing. I’m trying to ride the wave a day at a time. On these days, I post-up on the daybed to read with my little dog Pashmina, write some bullshit, and I’ve been doing this free online course in linguistics for fun. There are some pretty dang cool people in my house hanging around, too. We’re all posted up. For a side hustle, I’m writing personalized erotica.

Why is it important for people to support small businesses, restaurants, and clubs, even during times of uncertainty?

It’s important because all people need to survive! We are all human! I worry so much for the girls I work with who were already struggling before this all started. Many of them had so much going on already. Bad domestic situations that they’re now locked into, single mothers with babies to feed, bills on bills on bills. The threat of no income for an indiscernible amount of time is giving all of us so much anxiety! No one should have to live like that, when they’re forced out of work. I wish we had more options, or at least some kind of certainty. I have enough for April bills, then I don’t know what’s going to happen. Lots of erotica, I presume.

What are your other book or individual piece recommendations for those who are looking for material to read during mass quarantine?

I’ve said this before, but right now is the perfect time to (re)read Mark Z. Danielewski’s House of Leaves! Or Donny D’s White Noise. I’ve also really been enjoying Lydia Davis’ collection of short stories. It’s a huge book bundled with four of her novels— it’s one to keep you busy, and a lot of fun. Formatted super cute. If you want to tune into the outside world, check out Joan Didion’s The White Album. Out of a personal recommendation not in accordance with the given situation or relative, I love The Crying of Lot 49, all credit to my boy Pynchon.