Stripped Free ministry brings gifts, Gospel to Indianapolis dancers

Kim Tabor had reservations when she walked into a strip club for the first time about two years ago.

Tabor, 45, is a church singer and pastor's wife, not someone folks would expect to find in a club.

Walking through the door on that windowless building took her into a new world of strobe lights and loud music, with women shedding clothes on stage and men with drinks and dollar bills.

"It was a shock to the senses," Tabor said.

Tabor took a few more unsteady steps and followed her guide, Stefanie Jeffers, who previously worked as a dancer. They stopped and talked to a young dancer about life and choices.

"I saw that same look that I've even seen in my own eyes," Tabor said. "God is calling me here."

A few months later, Tabor and Jeffers founded Stripped Free, a Christian outreach for women at Indianapolis-area strip clubs. Tabor and Jeffers bring gifts, cupcakes and a simple message of God's love. They help women land new jobs and gain resources needed to transition, including food, clothes and shelter.

Stripped Free isn't the only ministry working in adult clubs. A larger network called Strip Church, which doesn't include Jeffers' and Tabor's ministry, includes 95 groups working in the United States, Canada and Australia, according to its website.

But as Jeffers and Tabor have learned, their outreach isn't always welcome. For those who see dancing as a choice, ministries like Stripped Free are intrusive and pushy. They say dancers shouldn't be shamed in their places of employment.

LANDING IN THE CLUB

Jeffers told anyone who asked that she was happy as a dancer. It made her feel powerful, sexy. She was in control, she’d say.

It was a lie, she said.

“It's very different to look at the world through brokenness and loss,” Jeffers said.

Jeffers, 45, started stripping in 2001 after a series of emotional batterings. Her husband divorced her. She was in an unhealthy relationship. She got pregnant and suffered a miscarriage. Drained, Jeffers said she quit a paralegal job and landed at a local club.

Dancing was good early on, she said, with great money and flexible hours. When she worked the day shift, Jeffers could take her daughter to school in the morning and be home in time to say goodnight.

But she could feel pieces of herself slipping away with every piece of clothing she shed. She shut down emotionally. Detachment, she said, is a side effect that comes with having strange men pawing at you.

For Jeffers, dancing ended with a smack in the face from God.

She was stooping to pick up cash on stage when a cross necklace around her neck hit her chin. She never wore the necklace, a gift from her daughter, on stage. She had forgotten to take it off.

God doesn't belong here, she thought. Then a revelation: I don't belong here, either.

"I could not take one more bite, one more lick or grab or smack or venomous thing spoken to me," Jeffers said.

She walked out of the club in 2004.

SHARING HER MESSAGE

Jeffers grew up in a Christian home and attended church regularly with her family. After leaving the clubs, she soon started going back to church. She found new stability in her life, gave birth to her second daughter in 2006 and married again in 2007.

She started telling her story to Bible study and church friends in Central Indiana.

Tabor, who runs Tabor Ministries with her husband, Brian, heard Jeffers' story at one of those studies. She recruited Jeffers to speak at a Christian conference, where Jeffers told her story again without shame.

"I kept making bad choices because once you're in the dark, you can't make your way out unless somebody is there to help you," Jeffers said.

Suddenly, Jeffers became a role model for other women who were struggling, mired in darkness and searching for a way out.

She and Tabor gained permission from strip club managers and started visiting the dancers. Stripped Free grew. About 20 women from Mount Pleasant Christian Church in Greenwood and Heartland Church in Fishers now help with outreach.

Tabor, Jeffers and occasionally one other volunteer regularly visit four clubs in Indianapolis. They meet women in the bar or on the floor, in view of customers who are there. They pray and hand over gifts. At Christmas, they provide toys and presents to dancers who have children.

'WE CAN TAKE CARE OF OURSELVES'

Some believe ministries, no matter how well intended, don't belong in strip clubs.

“I’m not going into clubs and rescuing women,” said Andrea Holyfield, a career counselor in Atlanta who runs a specialized program that helps dancers transition into new occupations.

Dancing is a career choice, Holyfield said, adding that women have a right to earn a living free from people pushing religion at their workplace.

Prayer can’t teach a woman how to dress for a job interview, Holyfield said, or how to explain the gap on her resume for the time she was dancing.

Dancers can develop bad habits that make it difficult to find other kinds of work, Holyfield said. They swear, wear a lot of makeup and drink alcohol at work. Many dancers need to relearn how to act in the world outside clubs, Holyfield said.

And Holyfield, who runs LiveWell Coaching and Development, is not a charity. Women seek out her services and pay her $80 to $120 an hour.

Some women say church groups that come into clubs are condescending and disconnected. Dancing is a choice, they say, not a sin.

“I feel more respected, ironically, in this industry than I have at past places of employment in restaurants and retail,” said a 21-year-old Indiana University student who began dancing at a Bloomington-area club about a year ago. She agreed to an interview on the condition that IndyStar not use her name.

She’s never encountered Stripped Free, but she said a similar Christian outreach visits her club. She recalled a recent visit in which women from a church passed out food, telling the dancers they deserved a hot meal.

“It was just very patronizing,” the woman said. “I understand it’s a nice gesture, but it’s also unwanted. We can take care of ourselves.”

HELPING WITH TRANSITIONS

Jeffers and Tabor say they do help women make the transition into other work. They prep women for job interviews and take them shopping for clothes.

Stripped Free, Jeffers and Tabor say, is not out to save every dancer. Leaning on Jeffers' experience, they say they can spot women who are struggling and want help.

“We want to let these women know that they are loved and they matter,” Tabor said, “not to drag these women out of these clubs. If you decide to leave or decide to stay, God loves you regardless.”

Jenea, a 32-year-old former dancer, is thankful for the help. Jenea, who agreed to be interviewed on the condition that IndyStar use only her first name, had been dancing at a local club for about a year when Tabor and Jeffers walked in and introduced themselves. They persuaded her to go to church with them.

Jenea said she was miserable and emotionally numb when Tabor and Jeffers led her into Mount Pleasant for Easter services in 2014.

She sat in the front row while the pastor spoke and music played. Jenea replayed the choices in her mind that had brought her to this “dark place.”

She wept. Shame and regret poured away in hot tears.

“I was so sad,” Jenea said. “I felt so guilty being inside a church because I knew that I was living in the dark, you know. I was a stripper.”

The service ended, and soon she was surrounded by the faithful offering hugs and prayers. For the first time in the year since she entered that club, Jenea said, she felt human again.

She looked at Jeffers and Tabor and said: "I can never go back."

Jenea got a job at an Indianapolis-area warehouse shipping facility. She's still there, earning a living.

“I was tired of living a double life,” Jenea said. “It’s funny, because I never thought I was done stripping.

“This is all God’s plan.”

Call IndyStar reporter Vic Ryckaert at (317) 444-2701. Follow him on Twitter: @VicRyc.