Splitting

On work as a neurodivergent person

I don’t know who I think I am sometimes.

A problem I face as a neurodivergent person with trauma is that I can take trying to fit in, be respectable, and prove that I’m capable, too far. I learnt to suppress all the warning signs. I only know there’s a problem when the sirens are already blaring and the sprinklers have soaked everyone in the building, or whatever. That was a bit too much metaphor.

Over time I have split myself into thousands of pieces and tried to create a convincing persona around each of these in order to find work, go to school and university, spend time with my family, have friendships and relationships and so on. To survive and get things done, I have worked quite hard. Not only do I have to work hard at the thing, but I have to work hard at the persona who is believed to be able to do the thing. This is not to say I lie my way into jobs or what have you; I have mostly done jobs I am overqualified for since I graduated. I’ve done more different kinds of jobs than I can count. Hospitality industry and other minimum wage work considered ‘unskilled’ requires the worker to fit in like a cog in a machine. Six hours of being completely available to the general public and your supervisor, every minute providing value for money and machine-like consistency, with a bouncy, peppy attitude, is destabilising for some of us. The demand, the noise of the machines, the constant pace, the lack of a warm place to sit down for a moment in silence and privacy, is enough to send me into a meltdown 1-4 hours after I get through the door at home.

So why have I done so much of this work?

I have tried to avoid it as much as possible. I started out when I was 18, like most people. I’d already found a way out of my Mum’s house, with my new girlfriend who was very much the sun, moon, stars of my life. Before that I’d been doing childcare since I, essentially, hit puberty. I was dead-set on independence from a young age.

The alternative, for many of us who are young and need to make fast money, is sex work in all of its many forms. I’d been thinking about it since I was around 16. At 17 I set myself up as a FinDom online, and made cash by teasing, berating and ordering around men over webcam. I spent it all on a holiday that was one of the most stressful experiences of my life.

At 19, when it became apparent that the money I was making at my minimum wage job (£5.15 per hour) was not enough, and the FinDom thing was drying up, I became dead set on starting out as a stripper. It was the mid 2010’s, there was very little credible information to go on except a few blogs. Less still on how the industry worked in the UK. I may write about how it all started another time, it would be a bit of a diversion from my main point. My point… which is… To skip ahead, it took me about 4-6 months and three clubs to get into my groove with stripping. At that point, I was making enough money. I even enjoyed it a lot of the time. Why go back to underpaid minimum wage work?

• I have had jealous partners whose feelings of shame around me dancing I prioritised

• Clubs I worked at in the past have become corrupt and hostile, and/or have been shut down due to SEV licensing issues

• I have felt pressure to have a respectable job by family

• I have tried and failed to start a career in the arts

• I wanted a career I could be proud of that had a kind of social value beyond babysitting adult men

Every time I either quit dancing or tried to do it alongside a respectable form of employment, I massively burnt myself out. In the rush to look like someone who has it together, I tend to drop a lot of the vital bits that actually help me keep it together.

I’ve fortunately found myself a new club to work at with ideal hours, legit security, and semi-reasonable management. I like working there a lot, I like the girls and I already have some regular customers. I get that not everyone has the privilege of working in the kind of club they like and feel safe. I’m lucky to have found this new lifeline.

Speaking only for myself, I actually feel a stronger sense of ownership and control of my body as a stripper than when I’m waiting tables, mixing drinks or serving coffee. Standing around being smiley, sexy and funny, in high heels and lingerie, around annoying, drunk entitled men, trying to encourage them to spend their money on a few minutes of no-contact nudity (if you don’t, by the way, you go home having lost money), I acknowledge that might be someone else’s idea of hell. It might even be mine on a bad day. But, what I get to do is walk away from any customer who annoys me, or even tell them they’re being a prick without repercussions. I take as many breaks to sit or even lie down as I need, as long as it’s not during my time on stage or in a private dance I’ve just initiated and been paid for. I get to swear, fidget, shout and drink when I want, and it’s acceptable. I don’t often feel embarrassed even if I make a social faux pas because it has so little baring on my idea of myself. I’m Dahlia, I’m your version of Dahlia.

The UK government and media have touted vitriol about people on benefits and sick leave, saying that the numbers of people too sick to work are impossibly high. Can you imagine what would happen to that number if all strip clubs were shut down and sex work in all forms was further criminalised?

My aim for this year is to take better care of myself so that I can contribute to the world and the people I love. I’m going to stop putting myself through things that are intensely stressful to me as a neurodivergent person. I am going to get a far better understanding of what my needs truly are. I am going to see what I can do out of creativity and passion instead of crisis and desperation.

Thanks for reading

Love,

Dahlia x

I’m planning on sharing more on this journal this year. I’d love to hear from you to know what kind of things you’d like to read. I’m also thinking of sharing some of my experience as a stripper in London between from 2014-present, please vote in the poll below or message me with your own suggestions.

Are you a sex worker or neurodiversity creator? Let’s collaborate. I’m interested in doing joint publications and peer interviews between myself and anyone in the world.