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“No, I’m trying to remind you that there’s a reason you made your husband take your last name when you married him,” I tell her, watching her eyes narrow because I’ve brought her personal life into this battle. “If you’re passionate about something, you should pursue it. It doesn’t matter what it is, and it certainly shouldn’t matter what gender you are. And yet because we’re women, we’re being judged for the decisions we’ve made and the type of business we want to run. Tell me, if there were three men standing here in front of you today, wanting to get a license for a male home-stripping business, would you even bat an eye at their request? Would you think they were sluts for wanting to do something like that as a career? Would you judge them for the choices they made? You made your husband take your last name because you refused to lose your identity. You wanted to make a name for yourself, not use his name to get ahead. The three of us, we lost our identities because of men. We were silenced, and we were made weak because men told us we couldn’t do something. Men made us believe we weren’t good enough or smart enough or couldn’t be successful enough on our own without their help. Cindy’s ex-husband only saw her as a housewife. Someone to cook his meals, raise his child, and keep his home neat and tidy. Belle’s father used guilt and the loss of her mother to keep her under his roof, making her afraid to spread her wings and fly. And my ex did nothing but put me down and make me feel ashamed of what I looked like and who I was because I didn’t fit the mold in his mind of what a woman should look like or act like.”
I see a few female board members nod their heads in agreement, which gives me a much-needed boost of confidence.
“Women have been objectified for centuries,” Ursula speaks haughtily, leaning forward in her chair and resting her arms on the table in front of her. “You having a business such as this just perpetuates this and sets the women’s movement back hundreds of years. Frankly, it is indeed disgusting. You’re selling your bodies. You’re proving that men have a right to view women as nothing more than sexual beings.”
Clenching my hands into fists I take a few deep breaths before replying.
“No, we’re owning our bodies. We’re owning our sexuality. We decide where and when. We decide why and what for, not anyone else. No one is taking advantage of us or using us. No one is forcing us to do this job. We hold all the power. We came up with an idea, and we pursued it. We came up with a solid business plan, where we’ve been adding new ideas to make it grow even more each and every day, and it’s been a success. You cannot deny it’s been successful and that we’ve done something unheard of. Three single women who had nothing left to lose started a unique, successful business. That should be celebrated, goddamn it, not looked down on!” I declare loudly, slamming my fist against the podium.
The entire room erupts into shouting and applause. Belle and Cindy quickly get up and hurry to stand on either side of me while Ursula grabs the gavel from the table and starts banging it, ordering everyone to quiet down.
When the room is finally quiet again, another board member at the far end of the table states that they’ve heard enough and it’s time for a vote. Belle, Cindy, and I all clasp hands as they go down the table. My heart sinks when only three members vote in favor of reinstating our license.
Ursula smirks at me, and I shake my head, unable to believe what is happening right now.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I mutter as I watch her conclude the meeting and start to get up from her chair.
“Plan B?” Belle asks, leaning forward to look around me at Cindy.
“Plan B, baby,” Cindy replies with a wink as Belle pulls her cell phone out of her pocket.
“What are you doing?” I ask as Belle starts tapping quickly on the screen of her phone.
“Did you really think we wouldn’t have a backup plan?” Belle laughs before leaning towards the mic. “Excuse me! Ladies and gentleman of the jury!”
The board members all pause when Belle shouts into the microphone, her voice echoing loudly around the room.
“Before you go, we’d like to submit exhibit A!” she yells into the microphone.
“You have a microphone; you don’t need to shout. And this isn’t court, dumbass,” Cindy mutters.
“Shut the hell up and let me work my magic,” Belle replies, turning away from the board to address the audience. “Hey, Eric! You still good with me playing this?”
