“Take a video home to Mom! Yes, I make that joke every class.”

Pole dance instructor, Julianne laughed. We proceeded to record ourselves scantily clad, dancing around metal. Beyoncé’s voice echoed through the room lit by blue LED lights reflecting onto glossy silver poles. I smiled, thinking, what would my mom think? No, what would my dad think?

 

 

I arrived ten minutes early to the “Intro to Pole Fitness” class. Walking into the door, I felt the vibrations of the booming bass from the speaker under my feet. Standing near the door, my wide eyes took in my new surroundings. A group of five girls stood near me, drinking water and chatting. Where do I go? Who is my teacher? Am I late? Anxious dialogue echoed in my head. Clueless and out of place, long seconds went by before a barefoot woman, dressed in a sports bra and short shorts, finally approached me.

 

“Are you here for intro to pole?” 

 

 

Her name is Julianne, she was my instructor. The friendly lady gave me a short tour of the building, checking me in and telling me to select a pole. After putting my things into a cubby, I examined the studio. A large mirror, lined with blue led lights reflected me from the opposing side of the room. Armed with a towel and spray bottle full of rubbing alcohol, my eyes darted from each of the silver beams. Which one do I choose? Which one can I trust? I thought before cautiously selecting my metal companion. Stretching my legs and arms, I anxiously wondered what the next hour would entail. 

​

 

Spinning, sweating, and sliding.

 

My hands ached as I gripped onto my pole. My legs were spotted pink, examining them I realized the bruises that would scatter my sore thighs the next day.

 

Unironically, I did show my mom the video when I returned home that night. My mom was visiting from her home in Georgia. She was having a girls night with her friends. My tipsy mother and her friends raised their eyebrows as they watched the monitor on my phone.

 

“Did anyone throw dollar bills at you? Do you think we could take a class like this? Were there any 50 year old women in there?” They jokingly asked. Their questions made me ponder the accepting nature of the class.

 

After seeing my mom’s reaction to my video, it prompted me to see how other people might respond. So, I decided to show it to various people in my life. My boyfriend, friends, and family. Showing the video of myself dancing provoked two distinct reactions. The first one being keen interest and curiosity, “Was it hard? That looks fun! Yes, Jayne!” The second reaction, from my boyfriend,

 

“Did you feel like a stripper? I bet all the boys in your class loved watching this.”

 

What I found interesting about the second reaction, it was as if taking this class, somehow was me giving permission to be objectified. At no point in the hour long class did I think, wow I am so provocative. I was preoccupied by the blisters forming on my hands, and the overall difficulty. The teacher watched us dance for an entire hour, not a mere one minute clip. Still, she never blurted comments relating to anything sexual or objectifying. If she had, it would have been profane and insanely inappropriate. 

 

I didn’t expect to find such a welcoming community when I walked into my first pole dancing class. I’ve taken a lot of dance classes in my life. I was in my first ballet recital when I was just three years old. I’ve gone to dance auditions, competitions, performances and workshops. Anyone who has a background in ballet will agree; dance is pretty, the dance world is not. It takes several months, sometimes years to find a community at a new studio. There’s a lingering aura of competition, jealousy, and intimidation. So why was pole dance different? Why did I walk out of this class feeling accepted and encouraged to return? Could it be, the stigmatization of this style of dance that fosters acceptance in this studio?

 

It’s as if society told everyone in this class to be ashamed,

they responded by unconditionally welcoming everyone in.