Women say NY's dollar-dance clubs have darker side
Sunday, 5 October 2008
NEW YORK, Oct 4 (Agencies): As neon lights bathe the dance floor of the darkened nightclub, a group of young women from Latin America sit at tables, sipping water or soda and waiting for men to approach and hand them cash.
For $2, the women will dance one song. For $10, they will dance a set. Forty dollars buys an hour of their time.
The scene plays out in immigrant neighborhoods across New York City, providing a key source of employment for immigrant women and a haven for men seeking to stave off the loneliness of being far from home. It is a perfectly legal form of entertainment - there is no stripping but plenty of hand-holding.
But some of the women say the clubs have a darker side. They complain about exploitative management, sexual advances from clients and even violence. A 24-year-old dancer was recently shot and killed in Queens, and one of the city's largest dollar-dance venues is now the target of a federal lawsuit.
For many dancers, the stigma of working at the clubs is the most trying problem.
"Sometimes people or clients say we're prostitutes, but we're not. We dance," said Tania Zarate, a dancer at one club in Queens.
That dancing can veer from prudish to the sensual grind. Some clubs demand that dancers wear skimpy uniforms. Elsewhere, they dress in jeans and T-shirts. Bouncers are often hired to fend off unruly customers or those with straying hands.
Many of the dollar-dance places can't rightly be called nightclubs. They are bars that just happen to feature dance floors with women who get paid by the dance.
Zarate, 35, who is from Veracruz, Mexico, wore a short jean skirt, white blouse and white tights on a recent summer night. She said she returned to dancing after leaving the job to try her skills in another line of work. But that job ended. She was not happy to return to work as a dancer.
"To have to come from my country and work this kind of job? No!" she said in Spanish, with a wave of her hand. "Sometimes you dance with a guy and then he doesn't want to pay up." The idea of women dancing with a partner for a song has a long tradition.
During the Depression, men in many big cities could go to "taxi-dance halls" to pay for dances. Back then, each dance cost just a dime, and the women were largely of Eastern European descent.
Today, the woman hail from Mexico, Ecuador, Colombia, the Dominican Republic and elsewhere. They are often single mothers who have become migrant workers to support the families they left behind.
Carla Ramirez, 26, a married mother of three, said she began dancing at a club soon after arriving from her native Ecuador. She said she keeps the job secret from her husband.
"He thinks I work in a restaurant," she said. "He doesn't like me drinking or dancing with another man."
The men she dances with at a nightclub on Roosevelt Avenue in Queens are mostly labourers from Latin America. They are often construction workers, landscapers and restaurant workers. Many come to the clubs still wearing boots and jeans, splattered with paint and mud.
A 41-year-old labourer, who spoke on the condition that he be identified only as Emilio because he didn't want to be known as a patron of the clubs, said he sometimes spends hundreds of dollars a night on dancing, drinks and female companionship.
For $2, the women will dance one song. For $10, they will dance a set. Forty dollars buys an hour of their time.
The scene plays out in immigrant neighborhoods across New York City, providing a key source of employment for immigrant women and a haven for men seeking to stave off the loneliness of being far from home. It is a perfectly legal form of entertainment - there is no stripping but plenty of hand-holding.
But some of the women say the clubs have a darker side. They complain about exploitative management, sexual advances from clients and even violence. A 24-year-old dancer was recently shot and killed in Queens, and one of the city's largest dollar-dance venues is now the target of a federal lawsuit.
For many dancers, the stigma of working at the clubs is the most trying problem.
"Sometimes people or clients say we're prostitutes, but we're not. We dance," said Tania Zarate, a dancer at one club in Queens.
That dancing can veer from prudish to the sensual grind. Some clubs demand that dancers wear skimpy uniforms. Elsewhere, they dress in jeans and T-shirts. Bouncers are often hired to fend off unruly customers or those with straying hands.
Many of the dollar-dance places can't rightly be called nightclubs. They are bars that just happen to feature dance floors with women who get paid by the dance.
Zarate, 35, who is from Veracruz, Mexico, wore a short jean skirt, white blouse and white tights on a recent summer night. She said she returned to dancing after leaving the job to try her skills in another line of work. But that job ended. She was not happy to return to work as a dancer.
"To have to come from my country and work this kind of job? No!" she said in Spanish, with a wave of her hand. "Sometimes you dance with a guy and then he doesn't want to pay up." The idea of women dancing with a partner for a song has a long tradition.
During the Depression, men in many big cities could go to "taxi-dance halls" to pay for dances. Back then, each dance cost just a dime, and the women were largely of Eastern European descent.
Today, the woman hail from Mexico, Ecuador, Colombia, the Dominican Republic and elsewhere. They are often single mothers who have become migrant workers to support the families they left behind.
Carla Ramirez, 26, a married mother of three, said she began dancing at a club soon after arriving from her native Ecuador. She said she keeps the job secret from her husband.
"He thinks I work in a restaurant," she said. "He doesn't like me drinking or dancing with another man."
The men she dances with at a nightclub on Roosevelt Avenue in Queens are mostly labourers from Latin America. They are often construction workers, landscapers and restaurant workers. Many come to the clubs still wearing boots and jeans, splattered with paint and mud.
A 41-year-old labourer, who spoke on the condition that he be identified only as Emilio because he didn't want to be known as a patron of the clubs, said he sometimes spends hundreds of dollars a night on dancing, drinks and female companionship.