No Clothes For My Bro by Aniyah Turner

It had been days since I'd slept and I was forced to sit through this 5-hour class about the history of medicine. As Professor Applewhite blabbed on and on about human anatomy my eyes slowly closed then opened back up quickly for the next 4 hours and 17 minutes left of class. My bed was calling my name, but I was determined to get my masters degree here at Princeton University. I knew it would all be worth it in the end. Once I get this degree I can finally become the successful anesthesiologist I never dreamed to be. Even though I hated all that science stuff, I heard their starting salary is substantial. And that’s exactly what I needed and I need it FAST. Well, at least fast enough to get my brother out of the ridiculous Foster Care System before they lay another spiteful hand on him again.

I had been fifteen and my brother was only three, living with our father in West Harlem. Our mother died while giving birth to him and our father couldn't take the pressure of two kids on his own, so he disappeared. From then on I wasn't only his sister but also his mother figure. But we managed. Now I’m in the middle of my second year at Princeton University, also known as the one of the best colleges in the country. When I was younger I didn't even dream of becoming a doctor. It's too much pressure for me having so much control over other people's life. I don't even have control over my own. I know it sounds weird but I actually wanted to become a mortician. Don’t judge.


“Hey Tianna, Wait up” exclaimed my best friend Megan while running after me.
As she finally caught up she said, “Where are you off to speeding like that?”
I replied, “ My next class starts in five minutes and it’s all the way across campus”. “Who cares” she nonchalantly said. “Anywho, what’s new with you? I havent spoken to you in a while” “I’m actually getting very impatient. Graduation is in two whole years and I really need that money to get Kyle out of that hell house. I’ve gotta come up with a better plan on getting this money faster.” I complained to Megan.

Megan had been my best friend since diaper days and she was the only person who understood my situation. I never really understood how we bonded so much because she was the total opposite of me. Reckless. Risky. Outspoken. That was all Megan.

Out of nowhere Megan screamed as if she was in a horror scene and someone just sliced her arms off. I looked at her like she was insane and questioned  her  “What the hell is wrong with you? That was my eardrum.” She grasped onto my arm tightly and whispered “I have an idea that’ll solve all of your problems. Are you ready to hear it?” By the looks of her facial expressions I knew she had a crazy idea, but I was still eager to hear it. “ So what’s this brilliant idea you speak of” I hesitantly asked.
“ You can become a exotic dancer”
“Hell No”
“C’mon! You need the money fast right?”
“A stripper? Okay, it’s official. Your on drugs Meg. We need to get you help”
“Nooo Tia, I’m serious. My brother’s bestfriend owns the club down on Murrow Street. Maybe he can hook you up wiht a job there”
For a second there I felt weird because I actually started to consider the offer. I really needed the money and most importantly I needed my brother back.

“So I can just get the job? Just like that?” I asked.

And that’s when it all began. In the matter of two weeks I was dancing on poles for money two nights a week at the club. I was no longer Tianna. I was Spice. A well known stripper from West Harlem. From one gentlemen's club to another. It wasn’t as bad as I thought. It was kinda fun, matter fact. It was definitely out of my comfort zone but I was earning over $10,000 every month.

After five to six months of working at club I was finally stable enough to buy my own condo, get my brother back and out of the system, and finally switch majors to what I actually wanted to become. It worked for me. Sometimes you have to do what you have to do. I learned that stripping isn't always about showing off your body and it actually helps you raise your confidence level. There was only one person to thank and that was Megan.