I was already like this when he met me- fully equipped! On the brink of graduating with my second degree from Unlv. I didn’t need instruction; there was no assembly required or necessary. I’m not no build a bitch‼️

Hello, my name is Tiara Christopher. For the past decade, I’ve stripped my way through two out of three degrees, determined to graduate debt-free.

During my custody battle, my ex-partner condemned me for stripping, despite it being the job that kept him fed when he couldn’t maintain consistent employment as an electrician. I stripped until I was five months pregnant because he couldn’t get a job, even though he was in the union. I had to be the man and woman in the relationship. Anything could have happened to me driving to and from work in Vegas, with all the constant drunk drivers. Hell, I could’ve fallen in my 6-inch heels. But stripping wasn’t a problem for him until the custody battle. It’s ironic how people will ostracize you for the very thing they secretly envy.

The judge and his lawyer further condemned me by suggesting that because I was a stripper, I must be an alcoholic or addicted to a heavy narcotic like heroin, fentanyl, or meth! The audacity! For the record, I just smoke marijuana. They made me use Soberlink, a monitored drinking app that tests your sobriety, for a year. Over that year, I unnecessarily spent about $2,500 on the machine, installation, and monthly payments. If you know me, then you know he was the actual alcoholic in our relationship. To go a step further, this fool has two DUIs in the state of Nevada. But white privilege awarded this fool full custody, basically. Are you feeling my pain? Are you hearing me?

Anyways, I had to come up with a whole “scheme” just to get out of stripping. If I didn’t, he would’ve let me strip through my entire pregnancy. Stripping while pregnant made me self-conscious—all the men touching me and my belly, having to suck in my belly a little. The reason I created this story at five months was because I had popped, and to me, it was evident I was expecting. I didn’t want to face that embarrassing talk from the manager: “Honey, come back after you have the baby—it’s clear you’re pregnant!” He knew this but still subjected me to stripping.

One night, I got all dressed for work, did my makeup, and drove all the way to the strip club. My ex used to track my location like a hawk. I parked in the parking lot for about 20 minutes or so, then drove back home. I told him my manager said he knew I was pregnant and to come back after. This was untrue. Do you know how he responded? He rolled over on his side, half-awake at about 3 a.m., and said nonchalantly, “Well, we knew that was coming!” and went back to sleep. I thought to myself, “This muthafucker!”