Activists use dirty dancing to protest violence against women

They said it wouldn’t be pretty, and they weren’t kidding.

Seven women, nondancers all, got down and literally dirty on Fremont Street Valentine’s Day night, awkwardly bumping and grinding in a way that was far from romantic.

That of course was the point.

They danced until “exhausted from sexy,” their way of protesting the “over-sexualized advertising” in Sin City.

You know. The half-dressed women draped across each other to draw you into a club or strip joint. The bare-butt billboards-on-wheels that travel up and down the Strip. The “girls direct to you” T-shirts and fliers.

Such advertising has consequences, said Yasmina Chavez, a local artist and photo coordinator at the Las Vegas Sun, who helped organize the “crash dance.”

“Women tend to get harassed more easily because it seems OK because it’s Vegas,” said Chavez, 30. “The ads don’t help. You have women getting splashed with champagne and talking about their ‘dumplings.’u2009”

Chavez and Olivia Jane, a 23-year-old friend and fellow artist dressed in white short-shorts, came up with the crash dance idea and pitched it as part of One Billion Rising, a global campaign to demand an end to violence against women.

Theirs was one of several One Billion Rising events around town, including a family-oriented affair at Horseman’s Park to benefit The Shade Tree shelter for women and children and a concert at the Cheyenne Saloon. Similar events were happening around the world as part of the 15th anniversary of V-Day, a nonprofit launched in New York City to draw attention to violence against women.

“Our society forces women to be sexy and provocative,” said Olivia Jane, who is an art student at University of Nevada, Las Vegas. “We’re going to dance until we can’t dance anymore to draw attention to our over-sexualized culture.”

They wore white to symbolize purity, “but dirty-fied,” Chavez said. “It’s not pretty when you get down to the bottom of what’s going on. It’s not OK to over-sexualize or objectify women — or men, really — for the sake of advertising.”

As they thrusted on the sidewalk, confused tourists — mainly men — stopped and gawked. It was a sight, even by Fremont Street standards.

“Who got married?” one guy yelled.

A man with a microphone talked about Jesus.

“You people out here gyrating, you’ll be judged for that,” he said.

“Pump, ladies, pump,” Olivia Jane yelled.

Security guards at Fremont Street Experience stopped the women after a few minutes, telling them they couldn’t dance if they were filming the performance.

They then let the women set up just east of Fourth Street, where they quickly got into a groove.

Then the speaker they brought to play a loop of Gwen Stefani’s “Crash” stopped working. Male friends clapped out a rhythm. The women kept on dancing.

As the night wore on, the women became covered in dirt and sweat, their heavy makeup smeared across their faces. They were tired. But they kept on dancing.

Chavez cheered them on: “Keep it going until you die, ladies!”

Contact Lynnette Curtis at Lynnette.Curtis@yahoo.com.