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Aimee Bushong didn’t spend her teenage years dreaming of dancing in hazy nightclubs. In fact, Bushong’s memoir, Rock ’N’ Pole, reveals that she was a typical awkward teenager, whose male classmates at her Aurora high school rarely glanced her way. But when Bushong turned 18, she decided to enter an industry where all eyes were sure to be on her: stripping. The money was good, she loved the male attention, and even better—she finally had funds to create her first rock album, something she had dreamed of as a kid, she wrote.
Through the rest of Rock ’N’ Pole, which was released in July, Bushong details how she went to the University of California Santa Barbara, continued dancing, and eventually launched her music career. We caught up with Bushong to learn more about her book and her experiences stripping, songwriting, and following her passions.
Editor’s note: The following conversation has been edited for length and clarity.
5280: You retired from stripping in 2004, and you’ve spent the last 20 years recording and performing music. Why write this memoir now?
Aimee Bushong: I’ve always been very open about being a stripper. I would even say it during my [music performances] to get people interested in my band. When I was talking to people about my job as a stripper, they would say, “You should write a book.” I was an English literature major in college, and I’ve always loved writing essays and poetry. So when I retired from stripping in February 2004—I was broke and didn’t have a job—I figured I might as well just start writing it. I’d write some bits down and then put it away for years. I didn’t really know what was going to happen with it. And then about 10 years ago, I decided to seriously finish it.
Why did you decide to self-publish?
I initially didn’t want to. I self-produced my first music album, which is actually why I went back to stripping because I knew I wasn’t going to get a record deal. I submitted this book to over 200 literary agents and some publishers, and I got rejected by all of them. At that point, I was like, “Screw this, I’m just gonna do it myself.”
You write candidly about your life in this book, everything from seemingly impossible stripping moves to supporting a suicidal coworker to grappling with your own mental health. Does writing with vulnerability come easily to you?
I’ve always been very open about that kind of stuff. There were some really dark times when I was very depressed. I was stripping and I hated it, and I was trying to make it in a band, and that was hard to dredge up again. Nobody wants to think about yucky times in their past, but when you’re writing a memoir, you have to do that. When I got to those parts in my writing process, sometimes I would have to step away for a few days and come back to it. But I wanted to write down everything, so I always came back ready to keep writing.
A big part of your book is about how you started stripping because you were seeking male validation. Did your 18-year-old self realize that, or did you come to terms with that over time?
It did take years of self-reflection. There are many layers about why I did it and what I have learned about myself. But back when I was 18, I was just like, “I can get all of this attention from men and make a shit ton of money? I’m in.” That’s really all I wanted at the time. I had no idea that I had daddy issues or insecurity issues.
In the book, you describe your first strip gig at a bar in Cheyenne, Wyoming. Did you have any second thoughts after that night?
I thought it was going to be way bigger of a production than it was, that it would be a club full of men throwing money at me, telling me I was beautiful, kind of like in the movie Flashdance. But it was nothing like that at all—just a dive bar with a dozen or so cowboys and ranchers my dad’s age. No hot young studs to catch my eye. But I did learn how to grab dollar bills out of dudes’ mouths with my boobs that night, which would become one of my most lucrative tip-gathering tricks. So, at least I had that. After that trip I did not have second thoughts on being a stripper. I figured it would get better. I did, however, make stipulations that I would not be driving out of town anymore. The cash most definitely fueled my decision. I was 18 years old making $100 to $300 per party. That was fat cash back in 1991. Hell, that’s fat cash now!
You also speak openly about your relationship with your parents and your brother. Was that difficult to write about?
I think it was toughest to write about my dad, who was pretty absent during my upbringing. He lived in California. I lived in Colorado. I had to think about how devoid I was of having a father figure, which I finally figured out was part of the reason why I did many of the things that I did, and I think a lot of young women can relate to that. Women and girls of divorce sometimes do things because of what happened in our childhoods—I just chose to become a stripper.
At one point in the book, you describe how you got your brother a job at a private stripping service. Do you feel like male strippers and female strippers have different experiences?
I learned that male strippers and female strippers experience vastly different things and are looked at differently. Male strippers were, and I assume still are, thought of as studs and cool à la Magic Mike. People used to tell my brother he had such a cool job, while I felt that I had to hide my job because people think of female strippers and sex workers as sleazy, slutty, and skanky. It wasn’t fair, and it still isn’t fair. The double standard still exists. Male strippers in general just don’t experience the same sort of objectification and sexualization that women do. They don’t have the fear that we have. I had to hire drivers and bodyguards to accompany me to bachelor parties. Male strippers don’t have to do that. In my experiences, women think of male strippers as sort of a humorous novelty wearing neon pink booty shorts. But as a female stripper, it’s a whole different ball game.
I was surprised to read that your mom was actually pretty supportive of your stripping career, even when you were 18. You still have a close relationship with her, too. Do you ever wish your mom had been more protective?
I don’t regret anything about my life because I got this book out of it—and a lot of music. But it’s still hard to think about that. Why did she let me do that? I have asked her over the years. “Why would you drive your 18-year-old daughter to a bachelor party, and then just sit there and read Time magazine while she was taking her clothes off for a bunch of drunk dudes?” And my mom always says the same thing: That’s what I wanted to do at the time, so she just let me do it. There are times when I wish that she and my dad would have been more protective of me, but I don’t think it’s their fault. They did the best that they could. How would my life have turned out if my mom didn’t let me make those choices? Probably not as interesting or fun.
After so many years of stripping in Denver, do you have any big takeaways?
It doesn’t take talent, it just takes guts, which I never really had a problem with. In all of the places that I danced, I never heard any dancer speak highly of her job. It was something that she had to do because of financial necessity or she had to take care of her kids. It wasn’t like coming into the office and being excited to work. Everybody just wanted to go in there, make as much money as possible, and then get the hell out. The whole system is very sleazy. It’s really corrupted. It objectifies women. I wouldn’t recommend it to anybody. I mean, I’m sure there are dancers, adult actresses, and OnlyFans performers who actually really do enjoy their job, which is great. But it’s really hard to be objectified, and it really messed with my head.
What’s next for your musical career?
My band hasn’t played together since shortly after the pandemic started. We’re not really a band anymore, but my drummer and I still play together. We set up a home studio and the one album that we made as a band was only 12 songs. I’ve got dozens of songs that I never got to record because it’s expensive, and, you know, I’m not going to go back to stripping at 52 years old. I am currently working on mixing, mastering, and producing about 12 more songs. I’m trying to release one track a month.
Are there any tracks or albums you would recommend to readers who want to listen to your music for the first time?
Well, there’s one song that I wrote when I was dancing, it’s called “Give It All to Mama.” It’s a slow funk rock tune about being a stripper. And then my latest release is called “Local Band’s Paradise,” which I wrote when I was in the band and struggling to make it as a local musician. So I wrote that song to express how great it would be if there was a place that we could just go and play and we could get paid, and all of our equipment is there, and people danced.
What do you hope readers take away from Rock ’N’ Pole?
My memoir is about going after your dreams, and that’s what I did. I just went after my dreams. It’s about making really big sacrifices to do something that you love. And, yeah, you’re gonna get shut down, and it’s gonna be hard, but it’s worth it.
