Review of Bushwick Burlesque
Kina Wolfenstein
My first night out in New York I checked out a Burlesque show in Brooklyn. The
description of it was relatively vague, and I didn’t know quite what to expect. The venue was a
little hole in the wall bar, right off the Subway. I stood in the back and tried to peer over the heads
of tall men who were obnoxiously standing in the front of the room and blocking the view for
others. This was not the first time in the night that I had suffered the consequences of men being
inconsiderate. On the subway ride on the way I had been confronted with an improvisation
performance that was completely undesirable. Two men stood in the middle of our subway car
talking loudly to each other, exchanging banter that was neither funny nor charming. I doubt they
had any theatrical training, their conversation more closely resembled drunk, loud and cocky old
friends than anything else. They attempted to elicit audience participation by asking irrelevant
questions, and pushed boundaries by making subtly racist and innuendoladen jokes. The entire
so called performance reeked of male entitlement, an attitude that they deserved to take up as
much space as they desired, and the obviously resentful reactions of their unwilling audience did
not sway them. Rather, our obvious discomfort seemed to encourage them. At one point one of
them even said, “wow, the entire car is totally silent. I kind of like that.” On the way to the show
my friend and I vented about our frustration, based on the sheer annoyance of these mens
behaviors, but also the underlying and surrounding culture which creates these type of
dynamics. A culture which encourages men to take up space, to feel entitled, and to be
inconsiderate of others experiences, while simultaneously conditioning minorities to make
themselves smaller in order to make room for the presence of the privileged. By making room I
refer to patterns i’ve observed in all arenas of existence people of lesser social power making
themselves (or being forced to become) smaller emotionally, verbally and physically.
The Burlesque show was an extraordinary performance of people who are often pushed
to the sidelines taking up space: in a titillating, surprising, hilarious, extreme and exposing collage
of sexuality and art. The show I saw was in many ways the complete opposite of my unpleasant
experience on the way there, and having those experiences back to back created a clear
comparison of how provocative and interactive art that demands audience attention can be
beautiful, or go terribly wrong. The tactics of these two men on the subway shared many
commonalities with the burlesque performance, but the context and the intention of these
performances were in stark contrast, and delivered opposite experiences. The experience on
the Subway was a reinforcement of destructive social patterns. The Burlesque show seeked to
empower those who are disempowered, to shine a light on those who are invisible. Yes, we
watched a clown pull a string of flags out of her vagina, and a woman rub cake all over her naked
body. But we also watched harmful existing power dynamics be challenged and dismantled.
One of the main themes of using art to empower the disempowered focused on the
concept of freaks. The lead clown, “Scary Ben”, announced the first act by talking about how at a
certain point in history it became illegal to display freaks for entertainment. We all commonly think of freak shows as being tragic and exploitative, but Scary Ben said he thinks it’s a shame
that displaying peoples differences for the purpose of entertainment and education is frowned
upon. There’s nothing valuable in denial or assimilation, and I agree that recognizing our
differences in the context of entertainment can be humanizing and refreshingly honest. By
pretending we are all the same we deny those who are different of their experiences, or an
opportunity to acknowledge those experiences. With that, a man named “the Velvet Crayon” was
welcomed on stage. The Velvet Crayon was carried onto the stage by Scary Ben, since he stood
at probably 3 feet tall, and after his wheelchair was lifted onto the stage he sat in it. He told us he
was born with a genetic condition that caused him to have hollow bones, like a bird. He told us
that he had never walked and never would. He clarified “I am not a little person”, and cracked the
first joke by interjecting “and I have totally normal sized organs. Ladies. A little above average, or
so I’ve been told.” Then a hat was passed around, and the audience could pay one dollar to ask
him a dirty questions. “I’m ready to get filthy!” he kept saying. At first the audience was shy, but
then they warmed up, while he encouraged them. “Come on”, he said, “you haven’t even made
me blush yet!” While he divulged personal stories about his sexual exploits, I thought about the
political implications of his performance. In our society, there is an unfortunate perspective,
sometimes subtle or unconscious but glaring nonetheless, that only some people “deserve”
sexuality, or to be recognized as sexual creatures. Disabled people are definitely on the list of
those are are often denied their sexuality. The Velvet Crayons performance was crude,
sometimes offensive, laughter inducing and raw, and the rest of the show followed suit. Although
most of the performers were not disabled, they represented a large variety of various spectrums,
and their performances were far from cliched. Some people would defend sripping as an art
form, or relate burlesque to stripping, and to me, this is the profound difference: the Burlesque
show was utterly accessible. It did not represent definite ideals or well worn stereotypes of what
is sexy, or what is art. It pushed boundaries, but not like the men on the subway by making
people uncomfortable. It pushed boundaries by being so surprisingly open and inclusive in it’s
raunchy nature. It took formulaic ideas about what is sexy, and what is performance art, and
perverted them literally.
After the Q & A session was over, the Velvet Crayon played a song on the guitar that I
found emotionally provocative and uplifting. The song opens: “Hey kid, so you wanna be a freak,
i’ll show you everything you need. To be a freak is to be happy, oh to be a true freak indeed. So
in a moment i’ll plug you in electricity through your brain. It’s not just your body that makes you a
freak, it’s also mentally. I’ll admit it’s gonna hurt a lot, but if you wanna be a freak you better
toughen up. All the plain plus all the joy will make a man out of you, boy.” I noticed a few audience
members that had tears in their eyes, and I admired the talents of a performer that could make
people crack up and cry within the span of a 15 minute set.
The other disabled performer who self identified as a freak was a man with dramatically
underdeveloped and seemingly nonfunctional arms, but besides that an able body. He got on
stage in a ninja costume, complete with a leather mini skirt and crop top, and did a dance routine
which exposed the fact that he wasn’t wearing underwear. Then he shared the story of famous magician, Harry Houdini, who was legend for allowing anyone to punch him in the stomach three
times. His downfall was when a man came up and punched him in the gut without giving him any
warning, which was necessary for him to prepare and protect his organs. Because of his pride,
he allowed the man to punch him twice more. Immediately following this was an act where he
would free himself from a tank of water he was chained into, but because his stomach muscles
were damaged from the blow, he wasn’t strong enough to exercise the necessary strength to
escape. He was found drowned, with both ankles broken. Theo the Ninja then welcomed any
audience member to come up on stage and punch him in the stomach 3 times. I rose my hand,
and was chosen. For his last act, he broke multiple boards by kicking, kneeing and headbutting
them, demonstrating that his disability didn’t mean he wasn’t strong and capable in many
arenas. Before he broke the boards he had audience members shout out things they hate, and
those phrases would be written on the boards before he broke them. Things came full circle
when someone shouted out “Male Entitlement” which was scrawled on one of the boards in
black sharpie ink. “Oh god, fuck male entitlement. Nothing pisses me off more than male
entitlement” Theo the Ninja said, and right before snapping the board in two with his knee he
screamed “I HATE YOU MALE ENTITLEMENT!”
Even the Burlesque acts which were more explicitly focused on sexuality displayed
artistic attitudes which could be considered degenerate, like the rest of the show, and were
certainly challenging of norms. The show was long, elaborate and memorable, but a few of the
burlesque dancers performances spoke to me most clearly. One dancer was introduced as a
retired dancer, who is now focused on feminist study from the perspective of self awareness
and body movement. “Don’t speak for me, man” I heard her comment from the back room. “At
least I’m a clown” Scary Ben retorted, to which she sharply responded “you’re all clowns.” When
she got on stage I was expecting something serious and calming, and was surprised maybe
pleasantly, when she burst into a strip routine which was beyond enthusiasm. Abrasive PE
music was playing, while she violently jerked around, ripping off her clothes and mocking sexual
acts in a way that reminded me of rude frat boys, but was somehow still rhythmic and
impressive. Her dance was explicitly sexual, but represented in a way that I could only describe
as masculine. It was aggressive and crude. Not sensual, not graceful, not suggestive. It was
dirty and explicit in a manner that is typically not associated with female sexuality. Halfway
through the song the music glitched, and she was trying to decide if she should sing the rest of it
acapella while performing. “What does your artistic integrity tell you?” Scary Ben asked. “What’s
artistic integrity?” she replied.
This perversion of constructs of feminine sexuality was reflected again in a later
performance, where a woman wearing a pink apron, a blonde wig and heels delicately strutted
onto the floor and sat in a pink chair, holding a chocolate cake in her lap. For the first few
minutes of the show she girlishly mimed preparing to eat the cake, without ever taking a bite.
Silently she would tear off a dainty piece with her fork, bring it close to her mouth, and then giggle
and push it away. Finally she took one tentative bite, and then another, and another, until the
entire piece was one. She spent a minute looking at the cake curiously, fingers lingering near it,
flipping her hair and cleaning the frosting out from under her nails, still maintaining a controlled and polite presence. Finally the tension was broken when she grabbed a fistfull of the cake and
shoved it in her face. This was the tipping point for the performance. Next she ripped off her wig
to reveal a messy black afro, tore off the apron and proceeded to get very intimate with her
baked creation.
Ultimately, this show was a delicious blend of awkward, weird, sensual, crude, musical, extreme
and comical. The participants were both talented and shameless, and the show worked with
extremes in an expository and engaging manner which inspired me to seek empowerement
artistically and politically. To me this show was the ultimate trifecta, connecting art, politics and
sexuality.