Steph Bruzon

The Actor/The Prostitute/The Sexual Act

an essay by S. Bruzon

The exhibitionist nature of theatre is irrefutable–the role of performer being akin to that of a prostitute. In the act of stripping oneself, metaphorically or physically, before a crowd of strangers, a transaction takes place. Such a transaction can be seen repeatedly throughout history but observed in the most literal sense with the female performers of 19th century Japan. These women were banned from Kabuki theatre in the 1800s, only to return the next century and find that there was no longer a space for them in the art form. A propagator to this would be The Male Gaze and its implications for the women of Japanese theatre and the audiences that attend them. Last is my theory that theatre can be likened to a sexual act and thus easily find itself interlinked with the world that prostitution exists in. In the end, we all want the same thing: to be seen. In this paper, I will delve into the interconnections between prostitution and theatre, beginning with its implications for the performers of 19th century Japan, followed by its roots in the male gaze, and the sexual nature of theatre. 

In the late 1800s, after Japan popularized it, women were banned from Kabuki theatre. Ironically enough, a woman named Izumo no Okuni and her performance of combined dance and song in 1603 was thought to be the origin of the art form (Marina). Though women were banned in an attempt to separate prostitution and Kabuki, male performers were still involved in prostitution; in fact, both genders were equally sought after for commercial sex in this era. In the Edo period, “theatre owners saw prostitution of their boy actors as a way to garner favor from powerful or wealthy patrons” (Birk). 

Desperation and passion are two sides of the same coin; both can and do coexist. The women of this time were struck with limited options, for “up until the outbreak of the World War Ⅱ, women…could either become a servant, a prostitute, a geisha, or get married” (Ryall). There was no way to escape their predicament, the interconnectedness of performance and prostitution. After all, artistic work is not sustainable unless the people want to look at you, hear you, and often in the female performer’s case, sleep with you. This is a predicament that I face myself, as a female artist: though I may not mean for it to be this way, my work tends to come second to my sex in the eyes of the industry. Instead of trusting collaborators, I have to be vigilant that they’re not exploiting me as a sex object. In the 1900s, women were able to return to Kabuki, but the majority never did. To this day, it remains a male-dominated art form. 

This leads us to the concept of The Male Gaze, a term coined by film theorist Laura Mulvey. Traditionally, in life and in art, woman is the one that sells–and man the one that buys. The Male Gaze refers to the phenomenon of patriarchal standards lingering in the minds of women almost subconsciously. They are never able to liberate themselves enough to overcome the eyes, the expectations. This can be seen in the art that they make, drawing a parallel to sex work, where women are made to appeal to The Male Gaze in order to make their living. In Japan, this, too, is prevalent because “the roles that are made available to women overwhelmingly call for a passive subject, rather than women demonstrating agency and control” (Hambleton). So scarcely is woman the observer–so often is she the observed. In this way, she becomes an object, a fantasy, much like a prostitute–much like a performer. In A Room of One’s Own, my favorite writer Virginia Woolf addresses her female audience with a permeating question: “are you aware that you are, perhaps, the most discussed animal in the universe?” (Woolf 26). Woman is the ultimate muse and thus, the perpetual object of affection–which makes her a natural performer but also, a sacrificial lamb. Whether she is a prostitute, a performer, or both, she faces this predicament–a bridge between the acts, a shared sentencing. 

Finally, I posit that theatre is a sexual act–not necessary in the literal sense–but spiritually, emotionally. If discussed within academic parameters, it is comparable to some of Sigmund Freud’s theories on sex. Freud’s theories consider the idea that creative acts stem from a sublimation of sexuality. He believed that human beings are driven to break out of the cycle of life and death and that only this perpetual excitement and tension can keep them tethered to the continuation of life (Zupancic 99). Sexual drive is different from pleasure here, too. Pleasure requires the audience, the other. Sexual drive does not; it exists independently within the One self. Upon performing, the actor is interacting both with that part within them that seeks the other and the part that needs nothing except the release of expression in itself. 

Sexual energy is creative energy, creation is both life and death–and our existence is wrapped up in all of it–a big bouquet of intensity! Theatre is the release of that intensity. Only through the proper channeling of every facet of the performer through their character can the work be felt at the most profound level. True work requires nakedness; an actor must be willing to let the audience see through their character into the part of themselves that is everything, that is unique and yet a ripple of everyone that has ever been. In front of a stranger, this is the prostitution of the soul. 

Human beings are intricate, from skin to consciousness. Within the theatre, these intricacies only expand. Art asks the limitless of us. It asks for the kind of rawness that peels us until we are bare. Such expression must be unflinching–and the creator, just as willing as their creation. Art is entering a dark space as a small child would–but with the wisdom and daring that comes with age. There is something primal about the creation of art and in the case of theatre, something that strips. In 19th century Japan, women had little freedom and dealt with the aftermath of being barred from the theatre of the time due to their affiliations with sex work. The history of the interconnectedness between theatre and prostitution is vast. It cannot be contained in one simple analysis and must be examined from a range of perspectives. It brings about questions of social order, the role of women in the arts, their internal conflict and societally-influenced disposition, as well as the very nature of theatre. It is not that theatre is prostitution nor that prostitution is theatre, but that a parallel exists between them–especially for women. To be an artist is to think transactionally about your very soul. Like a prostitute selling sex, an artist sells their own self for a singular moment of ecstasy, of unity with their audience–with the world. 

Works Cited

Birk, Sara K. “Sex, androgyny, prostitution and the development of onnagata Sex, androgyny, prostitution and the development of onnagata roles in Kabuki theatre roles in Kabuki theatre.” Scholar Works, 2006, https://scholarworks.umt.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=4556&context=etd. Accessed 30 March 2025.

Hambleton, Alexandra. “Male Gaze.” Japanese Media and Popular Culture, 2025, https://jmpc-utokyo.com/keyword/male-gaze/. Accessed 30 March 2025.

Marina, Andrea. “Kabuki Theatre: Queer Cultures in Early Modern Japan, Part 2.” Andrea Marina, 2024, https://andreamariana.com/?p=1434. Accessed 30 March 2025.

Ryall, Julian. “Japan’s geisha and the unfortunate image of sex workers.” DW, 2019, https://www.dw.com/en/japans-geisha-and-the-unfortunate-image-of-sex-workers/a-49137474. Accessed 30 March 2025.

Woolf, Virginia. A Room of One’s Own. Harcourt, 2005.

Zupancic, Alenka. What IS Sex? MIT Press, 2017. Accessed 31 March 2025.