The Enduring Sex Appeal of the SuicideGirls
Playboy talks to the founder of the now-worldwide burlesuqe community on its legacy
Derek Bremner
A long time ago, Missy Suicide felt like she was invisible. She was tired of being ignored, tired of feeling like she was undervalued and unseen. Seventeen years ago, that frustration prompted her to create the SuicideGirls, a now internationally-known burlesque group that celebrates the unconventional and provides a community for women who refuse to conform. The SG ethos seems like an obvious fit today: It’s rebellious and sexy, celebrating both burlesque’s pin-up roots and an edgy inked-and-pierced aesthetic.
In 2001, though, it was far from a sure thing. In fact, it was a middle finger to her dot-com day job and to her constant sense that she wasn’t measuring up to society’s standards. “I was never going to be blonde or tan,” she says, recalling the epiphany that led her to forging her own path. “My hips are always going to be wide, I’m always going to be short, but I’m beautiful, and my friends are beautiful.” Why, she thought, can’t we be accepted and embraced for ourselves?
Looking back on that time, she sees it as “a lost place” in her life. “I didn’t feel respected or that my ideas were considered,” she says. The SuicideGirls, she thought, could be a place where women are respected for their ideas and their bodies. And that’s what she’s built. “I wanted to give girls the space to appreciate themselves,” she says. Today, with over 3,000 SuicideGirls represented worldwide in the online community, that space has become a reality.
Missy is quick to point out that it didn’t happen overnight. “It’s just starting to really click,” she says, a process that’s taken nearly two decades. She began SG in Portland, Oregon. She chose the location based on its ranking as highest-per-capita for both strip clubs and book stores. It seemed like a community that would get what she was doing. What she realized was that she was far from alone in feeling like an outsider. “There were people who felt like I did, all over the world,” she says. “It’s remarkable to see that there’s a girl in Australia who felt like I did, growing up.”
Looking back on that time, she sees it as “a lost place” in her life. “I didn’t feel respected or that my ideas were considered,” she says. The SuicideGirls, she thought, could be a place where women are respected for their ideas and their bodies. And that’s what she’s built. “I wanted to give girls the space to appreciate themselves,” she says. Today, with over 3,000 SuicideGirls represented worldwide in the online community, that space has become a reality.
Missy is quick to point out that it didn’t happen overnight. “It’s just starting to really click,” she says, a process that’s taken nearly two decades. She began SG in Portland, Oregon. She chose the location based on its ranking as highest-per-capita for both strip clubs and book stores. It seemed like a community that would get what she was doing. What she realized was that she was far from alone in feeling like an outsider. “There were people who felt like I did, all over the world,” she says. “It’s remarkable to see that there’s a girl in Australia who felt like I did, growing up.”
The body, she says, is “such an intrinsic part” of who we are.
Today, she sees social constructs shifting, making more space for those outside the norm—including greater acceptance for unconventional ideas of attractiveness. “There’s a wider acceptance of beauty,” she says. Body positivity has come a long way, but unattainable beauty ideals still exist.
The good news, though, is that they’re no longer the only option. Missy sees women valuing themselves and their bodies more, and she’s thrilled that the message she’s been delivering for so long is finally taking root. “Women have had the realization that there’s nothing wrong with their bodies,” she says. “We’re happy when we’re whole. I’ve been saying for 17 years that if we’re in control, we should feel sexy and beautiful. We should be in control of what happens to our bodies.” Self-determination is hot. “The idea that we have to be this, or we have to be that, or fit within these preordained boxes is kind of sexist,” she says. “We have to choose a single role? Fuck that. We can do whatever we want to do.”
She wants to keep on doing exactly this— preaching the gospel that all women are beautiful and powerful. Her inspiration, she says, came from a very specific artistic influence. “I saw these photos of Bettie Page,” she says. “Bunny Yeager [the photographer] would pause the shutter in a way that male photographers didn’t.” The photos were a dramatic departure from the usual pin-up shots—maybe because Yeager was a model herself. In fact, both Page and Yeager were Playboy centerfolds.
Yeager used the slower shutter’s added time to capture Page unposed, laughing, at ease. “It was natural,” Missy says. “It was a revelation to me that a woman could be documented so free, being herself.”
The good news, though, is that they’re no longer the only option. Missy sees women valuing themselves and their bodies more, and she’s thrilled that the message she’s been delivering for so long is finally taking root. “Women have had the realization that there’s nothing wrong with their bodies,” she says. “We’re happy when we’re whole. I’ve been saying for 17 years that if we’re in control, we should feel sexy and beautiful. We should be in control of what happens to our bodies.” Self-determination is hot. “The idea that we have to be this, or we have to be that, or fit within these preordained boxes is kind of sexist,” she says. “We have to choose a single role? Fuck that. We can do whatever we want to do.”
She wants to keep on doing exactly this— preaching the gospel that all women are beautiful and powerful. Her inspiration, she says, came from a very specific artistic influence. “I saw these photos of Bettie Page,” she says. “Bunny Yeager [the photographer] would pause the shutter in a way that male photographers didn’t.” The photos were a dramatic departure from the usual pin-up shots—maybe because Yeager was a model herself. In fact, both Page and Yeager were Playboy centerfolds.
Yeager used the slower shutter’s added time to capture Page unposed, laughing, at ease. “It was natural,” Missy says. “It was a revelation to me that a woman could be documented so free, being herself.”
Women have had the realization that there’s nothing wrong with their bodies. We should be in control of what happens to our bodies.
This radical embrace of internal over external perspective is what sets the SuicideGirls site apart. “99.9 percent of images are how the photographer sees the world,” she says. “Ours showcase how the model feels sexy about herself. Instantly, it evokes a different response, like those Bettie Page photos.” This joy is a game-changer—taking what’s been framed as salacious and making it empowering. “It makes you wonder why you saw ‘dirty pictures’ as dirty in the first place,” she says.
More than five million followers on Instagram is a huge fan base, but Missy says it’s so much more than just people clicking “like.” It’s a community, and she sees it as a place to connect—just what she wanted to create in the first place. “Any SuicideGirl is going to say that the friendships they’ve made are their favorite part [of being involved],” she says. “It really makes the world seem [like] we’re all connected.” It’s been her own experience as well: “That’s been the most rewarding thing—making friends,” she says.
Going forward, she hopes that connection will keep on growing. SG has toured to Europe, South America and Australia, but Missy says she wants to go even further. Other plans might include a podcast, TV show, even movies eventually. But for right now, she’s focusing on a more direct line of influence. “I’m focusing on the tour, growing the community, and impacting and enhancing the lives of women in the company and the community,” she says. She feels a real responsibility for the women who run the day-to-day operations of the business, as well as for the performers, and the fans and faces gathered online as part of the SuicideGirl movement.
The body, she says, is “such an intrinsic part” of who we are. When it’s not respected, women often feel that their minds and bodies are not equally valued. It’s up to women, she says, to insist on “control of how [they are] presented” and to “reconcile [their] two selves.” It’s her plan to keep building a platform that enables them to do exactly that.
More than five million followers on Instagram is a huge fan base, but Missy says it’s so much more than just people clicking “like.” It’s a community, and she sees it as a place to connect—just what she wanted to create in the first place. “Any SuicideGirl is going to say that the friendships they’ve made are their favorite part [of being involved],” she says. “It really makes the world seem [like] we’re all connected.” It’s been her own experience as well: “That’s been the most rewarding thing—making friends,” she says.
Going forward, she hopes that connection will keep on growing. SG has toured to Europe, South America and Australia, but Missy says she wants to go even further. Other plans might include a podcast, TV show, even movies eventually. But for right now, she’s focusing on a more direct line of influence. “I’m focusing on the tour, growing the community, and impacting and enhancing the lives of women in the company and the community,” she says. She feels a real responsibility for the women who run the day-to-day operations of the business, as well as for the performers, and the fans and faces gathered online as part of the SuicideGirl movement.
The body, she says, is “such an intrinsic part” of who we are. When it’s not respected, women often feel that their minds and bodies are not equally valued. It’s up to women, she says, to insist on “control of how [they are] presented” and to “reconcile [their] two selves.” It’s her plan to keep building a platform that enables them to do exactly that.
The Empire Strips Back: Inside the Galaxy of Star Wars Burlesque
Welcome to the dark side of sex and Star Wars
