Becoming Venus: transforming identities

This is my first post on the blog, and I guess I’d better start with a little bit about who I am, and why (as people who have known me a while may wonder) I have decided to take on the name Black Venus- well, that’s Madame Black, or Lady Venus, to you.
I’m hoping that this post will clear a few things up, and set the tone for what’s to come in this blog.

Most sex workers, from prostitutes to dommes, use a pseudonym. It’s a way of staying safe, of course, protecting yourself from obsessive clients and prudish employers from stalking you and ruining your life. But it also serves another purpose- it’s a part of you, an essential, sexual part of you, that blossoms forth and is offered to the world- it is just as valid, and in some ways, just as complex as the “real” you, in the sense that it informs greatly the person who wakes up every day, makes their bed, and stands, naked and alone, ready to confront the many challenges of life.

When I was 19, I made the decision to become a stripper. It was born out of desire, more so though not entirely, as opposed to necessity- something that I have grown more aware of over the years as the debate around choice and sex work has become deluged with confusing and often derogatory remarks and people, sadly, speaking for and over others. Choice is a privilege- but the parameters of choice are complicated, and what dictates choice are different for everybody and, in fact, how we handle a given set of choices is often the very thing that constructs our identities- but this is a topic for another post.

I’ve been Sativa Mist for the past six years. Six! It was conjured up by me and one of my best friends, both of us weed smokers, in a puff of excitement one afternoon before my first audition at Metropolis strip club in Bethnal Green. I’d gone to see Parliament Funkadelic, one of my favourite bands, play at the Jazz Cafe with my mum (dancing on stage with George Clinton is still one of the highlights of my life) and at the end, his granddaughter, Sativa, came out on stage to rap. Wow. I thought, and as most people do, paradoxically, ironically when they come across something original, I plagiarised it for myself. When I told my friend Sam, lying with the ubiquitous spliff dangling from his mouth, “Mist. Sativa Mist. Cause you’re coming out through these clouds.” And the rest, as they say, was history.

Sativa was the things I was not. A fierce bitch in leopard print with a wild ‘fro. I would never have approached men in bars, and in my daily life, I mostly wore baggy jeans and loose shirts, had only had sex a handful of times, with a handful of awkward boys, and was frustrated and was seething with a burning, sexual energy. In the strip club, I was given not just a moment for that, but a platform. Despite being intelligent, I had been failing college miserably. Troubles I had had in my personal life had left me questioning parts of myself and my identity. But Sativa was confident, sexy, unbothered. She didn’t question herself- she was too busy being herself. I was a terrible hustler- a great dancer, but a terrible hustler. I had conversations with men at the bar over philosophy and Parmenides, but pocket diving I hadn’t quite grasped yet. I jumped from club to club, never making much money, but intent on exploring- exploring my identity primarily as a sexual being. I was the odd one with hairy armpits and charity shop dresses- I had more than one odd look thrown at me in the early years, from clients to House Mums- but those early years were formative, and I’m glad I did it my way.
I fell into wrestling because a punter at the last strip club I worked in noticed, as a lot of people do, my bulging calf muscles, and asked for a wrestling session. Over the last year and a half I have begun the foray into Domination, which fetish wrestling contains elements of- I love it more than I ever possibly thought I would. Again, that’s a topic for another post, but it was in the fetish wrestling and domme scene that I, both Sativa and M., began- started beginning- to really find themselves. By a lot of people standards, I’m pretty new to this- but I’d say I have talent.

Wrestling, as you can imagine, is much different from stripping. A strippers aesthetics are, generally, hyper-feminine. Lots of makeup, hair extensions, skin tight dresses and heels. Big breasts and lips are de rigeur.
The wrestling and domination world was a different kettle of fish. Yes, there still exists silicone and weaves, and most girls choose to be hairless. But physical strength is desired. And not just desired- idolised. I’m not saying that strippers aren’t strong- quite the opposite, to survive the strip club, you have to be a bad motherfucking bitch, sometimes ruthless, and be able to deal with rejection either on the chin or to ignore it completely and carry on jabbing your target until you have him where you want him- namely, the VIP. Pole dancers are athletes, without a doubt. I respect these girls immensely. But it’s intense. It can be draining on the system, so many late nights and partying for the dollar.
In wrestling, for me personally as an athlete, I feel a lot more healthy and in control. There isn’t a pressure to drink and do drugs. I’m able to use my background in martial arts, something which is notoriously hard to make money from unless you are in the top 5% in the world, or teaching every day. I’m respected for my physical strength and ability to engage and endure combat. I don’t have to hide it like I felt I had to when stripping. Many of us wrestlers don’t wear makeup- you’d sweat that shit off in no time. Of course in sessions Dommes often do, but it’s at her discretion, not a requirement. There’s a big rejection of mainstream ideals of beauty and desirability in the domination world. Domination is about subversion- subverting heterosexual norms and identities. It’s about finding relief from what is perceived to be normal. I find the scene much more egalitarian. More body types and looks are accepted. Women are worshipped, and their boundaries are always to be respected. A Domme or wrestler will never tolerate a cocky client or playmate- respect and the Dommes boundaries are constantly affirmed.

I’ve been Sativa for six years- that’s a long time, but it’s nothing compared to the amount of time I know I’m going to be doing this work. I’m a different person at 25 to who I was at 19. My behaviour has changed massively over the years- I am more confident, mature, and I have such a greater awareness of my sexuality now, and it’s fluidity. Its colours are Black- depth, absorption, adaptability, and White- Venus, light, reflections. Both black and white reflect my ancestry, also. So for me, being Black Venus is part of me expressing a side that is much more dominant, sexually expressive, and in control of her desires and behavioural patterns. Sativa is still here, completely, predominantly as a wrestler. Personality wise, Sativa sometimes gives in a little, let’s people off the hook- Venus, on the other hand, leaves no room for that at all. Venus realises the transformative powers of domination, and puts that into effect- always.