Have you ever tried to convince your boss to let you expense a lap dance?
I found myself in this unprecedented position as Spearmint Rhino held its first-ever trans strip night this week, organized by Teaze, which brought trans performers into one of the country's most recognizable strip club chains, proving there's plenty of room to challenge long-standing norms in traditionally cis spaces.
“Teaze started because I saw a lack of trans inclusive events in L.A.,” Vhex, the creator of Teaze, tells L.A. TACO. “I wanted the girls to work in nightlife more, so I came up with a logo and fought for spaces that would accept us.”
“To have an event at a full-operating strip club like Spearmint has been a dream of the girls,” Vhex says. “We are not accepted at all. Up until this point, we had to makeshift strip events at gay bars, salons, warehouses, making do with what we got. To have a straight-based bar open up their doors to us means the world. We can prove that we deserve space to be adored and admired just as much as others.”
I felt like Eddie Valiant, the detective from "Who Framed Roger Rabbit?," walking into the Ink and Paint Club to meet Jessica Rabbit for the first time, fully expecting to be reeled in by my necktie by some onstage siren. I even had on a same-day tailored Santee Alley suit I'd bought specifically for the occasion. (Dress for the job you want.)
Walking into Spearmint Rhino, I was greeted by cheetah-print carpet, leather booths, and a giant three-pole stage sitting dead center like the eighth wonder of the world. The whole room felt as if the Cheesecake Factory opened a strip club and hired an interior designer whose only note was "make it sexual."
The stage filled with a light fog, like the clouds parting to deliver angels directly from heaven.
The soundtrack is vaguely rock 'n' roll, but exclusively songs I've never heard before in my life.
Around 9 p.m., the room shifted. The music got louder, the booths filled in, and suddenly the crowd was a beautiful mess of dirty old bikers, guys in white T-shirts and cargo shorts, face tattoos, leather pups in thigh-high socks, and enough chain wallets to hold together the entire U.S. economy.
A patron DoorDashed a CAVA bowl into the VIP section. I'd never felt more mogged in my life.
An old biker with giant cross tattoos covering both elbows sat alone in a booth looking perpetually annoyed, but as a dancer approached him, his face lit up—he wasn't mad, he was just lonely.
Then the first dancer took the stage, the lights turning crimson to match her knee-high boots. Every performer seemed to hit the exact same awkward little step built into the stage on their first walk out. It was oddly wholesome. These impossibly glamorous women were still victims of bad architecture.
The waists were snatched, the asses were fat, and the faces captivating.
Women are incredible.
One of my favorite recurring acts of the night was watching a man in a suit quietly walk onto the stage after every song with a broom to sweep up the piles of dollar bills. It was the most corporate part of the entire experience, and people clapped for him, too.
We met Sammi, who was dressed as a leather puppy and came to support their friend Daphne through the local DJ scene.
"As a trans person, it's exciting to have a night like this," they said. "We need more straight spaces willing to open their doors."
That's really what made the night feel different. This wasn't a queer venue making room for trans performers—that already exists. This was one of the country's most recognizable strip clubs deciding that supporting trans dancers is just . . . normal.
The crowd kept growing, getting younger, too. Queerer. More couples. People lined up in front, at what regulars jokingly call "sniffer row" with open hearts and open wallets.
I finally caved and got a lap dance from Kitty, a dancer in bright red knee high boots and flowing hair down past her waist, who's been stripping for a little over a year.
Somewhere between talking about journalism and dyslexia, we discussed why this trans strip night matters.
"There's so much toxic masculinity," she said, while lifting her leg over me onto the seat. "Guys who are interested in us won't always come into queer spaces, so it's nice to have somewhere they can bring people like them without feeling judged."
We talked about how it shouldn't be so radical to simply support all women. In this space, Kitty told us that she feels “safe and confident.”
"Everyone's been so nice and respectful, can't complain. This is the first one we've done [at Spearmint Rhino], and it's been great," she said.
All this while she was effortlessly tossing her hair and dancing over me; dreams do come true.
The doorman, who offered change to guests coming in, told me they have “already gone through $500 in singles in about 15 minutes.”
"The thing I love most about stripping is dancing," Farrah, a self-proclaimed “Palestinian Pussy Fairy,” told me. "I feel like I have my own style of moving and seducing that draws customers and audience members toward me. I also love the autonomy I've found over my time and the money I make. And I love seeing trans and queer people in the audience. It gives me life.”
“The money you give is the applause,” Farrah advised for any newcomers. “Applause doesn't pay the bills!”
Before leaving, I met Daphne, a dancer in a fishnet bodysuit and thigh-high leather boots.
"In the grand scheme of things, this feels like a win," she told me. "We'll take all the wins we can get."
Walking back to the parking lot, I realized I'd spent the entire evening saying a sentence I never imagined would leave my mouth: “I'm so proud of Spearmint Rhino.”
It shouldn't feel groundbreaking for a strip club to welcome trans performers and queer patrons with such open arms. It shouldn't feel like news when everyone just treats each other with respect. It should be part of everyday life.
“We had a very successful opening night, and I can say this is not the last of us. We will be returning!” Vhex said in summation.
But for that one night, beneath the fake Tuscan décor, the wisps of the fog machine, and the silent reruns of “Real Housewives” playing overhead, Spearmint Rhino accidentally became one of the sweetest, safest rooms in Los Angeles.
Want to find out for yourself?
Take out a small cash loan and catch Teaze at Precinct in Downtown Los Angeles on July 29.
