Written by FOX SINCLAIR
Photography FOX SINCLAIR
Graphic Design SARAH SMITH
For SOAP MAGAZINE
"Night School" 2024
My education didn’t prepare me for the real world—but Jumbo’s did.
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Not my parents. Not church. Not the liberal arts degree from my sweet little lesbian college. What actually trained me in power, presence, boundaries, and womanhood was dancing at a tiny rock ’n’ roll strip club in Hollywood called Jumbo’s Clown Room.
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I started in 2013. I was 23 and deeply underqualified for what I was stepping into. I showed up in a baby pink bodysuit and six-inch light-up heels (both of which I’d retire almost immediately), thinking I’d just dance a little, make some money, and make my ex-boyfriend regret my loss. What I didn’t realize was that I was enrolling in a decade-long course on everything I hadn’t been taught growing up.
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In my conservative Christian household, sexuality was a touchy subject—never discussed openly, and by default, made taboo. It wasn’t until I commodified it—claimed it, performed it, profited from it—that I began to understand its weight and power.
"Life in Red" 2018
The first few months felt like rushing a sorority—if the sorority was run by chain-smoking showgirls in eight-inch heels who didn’t tip-toe around your feelings. I came in giggly, friendly, and painfully Southern. The girls weren’t impressed. At Jumbo’s, respect wasn’t handed out—it was earned, with attitude, resilience, and a flawless strut to the jukebox. I didn’t have years on my belt as a stripper so, naturally, there was some vetting.
Eventually, I found my footing. My heels got higher, my outfits smaller, my patience shorter, and my confidence louder. I learned how to talk to anyone. I learned how to feel perfectly fine leaving a conversation the second it got dull. I learned how to read a room, flip it, and make someone feel like the star of a fantasy—while secretly planning what I’d order for dinner.
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The photos in this piece were taken during that time—on a half-frame flea market camera I found in Austria, loaded with discontinued 1600 ISO film. I never used a flash, out of respect for the club’s strict no-photo policy- a policy I enjoyed as I navigated the outwardness of this “taboo” life I had chosen. These were quiet captures of costume changes, cash counts, cigarette breaks, and shared glances. No one was performing for the lens. They were just working— uniquely existing— and I was lucky enough to document it.
"Views of Getting Ready" 2019
Soon, like everything, it changed. COVID hit. The club restructured. Fuji stopped making the film. My negatives were stolen from the trunk of my car. The dancers I came up with moved on. A new era began.
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But those years—that era—were the golden ones. We were half-dressed, fully aware, and having the time of our lives. I miss it. It felt more like home than anywhere else ever has.
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Jumbo’s was my master’s degree—not just in stripping, but in life. In power, performance, and presence. In boundaries, business, and self-worth. And now, diploma in hand (figuratively, of course), I get to see where that education takes me next. I’m just happy I have these fleeting moments on film to remember it.
"A Rollie in Between" 2018