When I talk about my novel, I often feel the need to legitimize my subject matter, as though the Bunny has no place in literary fiction. Yet the lived experience of Bunnies is a fascinating glimpse into sexual politics that aren’t nearly as dated as we might like to assume. Most of the women who applied for jobs at the resort saw few opportunities to make as much money as they could donning the trademarked ears and tails for a summer, and they were ultimately hired because they were wholesome and sweet, not in spite of those qualities. Their tips put them through school, helped support their families, and enabled them to experience financial independence for the first time.

I was struck by the physical demands of the work—I couldn’t even make it through my own wedding reception in heels, and these women wore them through double and even triple shifts while zipped into a costume two sizes too small. Hardly the den of iniquity some imagined, the Bunnies were forbidden from dating patrons. They lived in a dorm and were supervised by a Bunny Mother and room captains. If a guest so much as touched a Bunny on the wrist without her consent, he could get kicked out by hulking security guards. There were so many rules that I worried I wouldn’t be able to stir up enough narrative trouble to tell a good story.

The job could be demeaning but also empowering. The women gained confidence from learning how to interact with men, they made friends, and they loved feeling special and chosen. In their costumes, they might have felt ridiculous but also beautiful, sexy, and desired. Guests took their pictures and asked for their autographs. They got free passes to concerts at the nearby Alpine Valley Music Theatre, partied with celebrities and trust-fund kids who owned homes and boats on Lake Geneva, and were moved to the front of the line at the clubs.

Yet to say they had fun seems to somehow diminish their experience or play into preconceived expectations. The degree to which we permit and approve of people having fun correlates with how tightly we believe they should be shackled to everyday concerns or rewarded with escape from the pressures of work and domestic life. That’s why fun is such a fraught concept, one that is tangled up in ideas of power, class, and gender.