How Tasha Reign’s Tatas Almost Got Her Rejected From Brunch

Tasha Reign is a porn star — a sex worker who wears that title proudly. In her weekly column, she’s here to educate Galore readers on the topics that most people are too shy to broach. This week: a very particular — and very shallow — kind of slut-shaming.

I was raised in sunny Laguna Beach, California, in a very conservative neighborhood. One may even call it the bible belt of California in fact. 

My mom had me in cotillion until I was the oldest girl in the class, and I won a lot the competitions, especially manners and dance. I’m also a porn actress. These two facts are equally important to my personality.

But recently, I learned all the manners lessons and cotillions in the world can’t prepare you for discrimination on the basis of your sexuality. I joined the ranks of women who have been slut-shamed for their appearance, just by trying to go to brunch with my friends.

Last weekend I was lucky enough to be hosting/dancing at my absolute favorite gentlemen’s club in New York City, Sapphires, which is just about as great as it gets when we are talking about treatment, clients, and atmosphere. On Sundays, after my shows on Saturday nights, I always sleep the fuck in. I mean 1 p.m. is early for me, because I have been out drinking and working until 6 a.m. 

That being said I had a huge day planned — three different groups of my friends were visiting New York City at the exact same time and wanted to brunch and meet up. My girlfriend, Paige, a true sweetheart, had made us reservations at a rooftop restaurant, and I was ecstatic and enthusiastic about this for a number of reasons. One being that I hadn’t seen Paige in years, I was on a time crunch so this was going to be quick but important, secondly, my girlfriend and her are working on a potential comic starring yours truly, so I was excited to hear all about the details.

Driving over 30 minutes in NYC traffic via Uber was a mission, but when is the transportation in a big city not? I was dressed in chic casual attire — in the shirt I’m wearing in the above photo, plus cargo pants and a black leather jacket. Little did I know, this simple outfit was about to become a problem.

I walked confidently upstairs, and straight to the very tall and attractive hostess at her stand. She looked utterly disgusted. I smiled and said, “Hello, just meeting my girlfriends for drinks and lunch!” She responded with telling me that I was not dressed for their restaurant and that I could go to another restaurant. 

I was shocked. I had asked my girlfriends if there was a dress code, both of them agreed that there was not, as they frequent this place and described in great detail what they were wearing. to me ahead of time. I was determined to sit and I was set on meeting them where they were already dining. 

Keep in mind, this place was empty, no one was there, and my friends were all seated and readily awaiting my arrival. So the hostess looks me up and down and with certainty tells me my outfit is not acceptable. I raise my voice and try to question what the dress code is, she just shakes her head and says “chic casual.” I look myself up and down and feel so upset. My blood starts to race and then two men walk out dressed in baggy jeans, flannel shirts and sneakers. I point to them and quickly ask why it is that they can wear those clothes, clearly lesser then my outfit, which by the way was from a very expensive boutique, and considered very trendy where I am from, but I can’t sit down in their restaurant. 

I threw a bit of a fit and then texted Paige to come out and get me as they claimed to not have any reservations for me, while I knew for a fact my friends were already seated. As Paige walked out, I saw that she and our girlfriends were dressed just as nonchalantly as myself. At this point I wanted to throw a rock at this lady. Really badly, just to ask her why she felt like she could discriminate against me because of my gender? No. My sex? My cleavage? My tits? Was this what this was about? Men can go in wearing anything they want, and my girlfriends don’t even look dressed up, but me, because of my sexuality, I am not welcome. Does that seem fair? 

Thankfully, we still had a great time at brunch.

But this has to do with so much more than some silly dress code issue. This is what equality is about. On the surface it’s no big deal, but deep down I know she turned me away because she felt intimidated by my breasts, by what they represent in society. Furthermore, she had the audacity to use her power to make me feel lesser. 

I just want men and women alike to be on an equal playing field. I understand we are not the same, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be treated equally, and especially in a place like New York City. This annoyance haunted me all day. It was just the cherry on my sundae, my hotel check-in was of a similar story. 

This may seem like a silly complaint or rant to the average person, but let me tell you, this is just the tip of the ice berg. This isn’t about someone knowing my career choice, or thinking I was not fancy enough, no. This was about my sexuality. If I could have, I would have caused a serious scene, but instead I will just vent and hope that the next time one of you sexy bitches is turned away at a table or looked down upon because you don’t fit some mold that society has created for you, you will know you’re not alone and I too deal with it all day long. 

Patriarchy and puritanical beliefs want you to feel like these concerns are silly and frivolous. But inequality in gender is something that stems from sexuality, our vaginas and our penises and their battle for power. As my agent once told me, “A nipple can bring down an entire civilization.” People still feel this way and until we allow for women to be sexual and express themselves in the way they want, I don’t see how we will ever be equals. 

Let’s try to be more aware of the way we treat people and what we accept as “normal” or “acceptable” and create a deeper meaning behind why we welcome some types of women and why we shun others. 

XOXO, Tasha Reign

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