The first time I left my baby, it was to go to a strip club in Milwaukee. Three weeks postpartum, I booked my flight and wondered whether my Owlet baby monitor app would have service at the Silk Exotic Gentlemen’s Club. My mind was a fog machine, still in a postpartum haze, and yet from within the thick vape cloud of a Midwestern strip club, I started to see something. At the strip club, they were taut. I hardly had the brain cells to watch Bravo, much less opine on a sociological connection between sex work and motherhood.