I was just perusing Amber Rhea’s blog and, amidst the many interesting musings on feminism and blogging, I discovered that she has graduated from her pole dancing school with a purple garter.
I tried pole dancing, once, over two years ago. And I was absolutely crap at it.
Jane and I from For The Girls attended a class for a feature we were doing. I did the dancing, Jane took the photos.
I turned up feeling cocky, thinking “If I can bellydance, I can do this. Piece of piss.”
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Yeah, right. I ended up thoroughly bruised, battered and suffering from pole burn (it gets really sticky with sweat, you know). My forearms were red and tender like I’d been picking up scalding cauldrons like in Kung Fu. My arms felt like someone had been trying to rip them out of their sockets.
The class went for an hour and a half but I didn’t last until the end. I could not physically hold myself up on the pole after an hour and had to limp away into the corner to watch.
If you want to see the embarrassing photos, they’re in the member’s area of For The Girls. Only people who give me money can see how crappy I was at it.
I wanted to make this public confession for two reasons. First, it’s to say that I admire any woman who manages to get past that first lesson and actually learn how to do it. Because it’s fucking difficult.
Secondly, I wanted to comment on the way that the feminist debate about “raunch culture” has often chosen pole dancing as an example of “what’s wrong with women today.” The assumption is that if you want to pole dance, you’re just trying to impress men by moulding yourself into a stereotypical image. That learning to pole dance is all about oppression, not empowerment.
I did not find pole dancing to be empowering, but that’s mainly because I was crap at it. I felt like a complete klutz. Impressing a man was the last thing on my mind during that lesson. I was more concerned with keeping up with the other chicks, who were far better at it than me.
Still, I’m fairly certain that Amber Rhea finds pole dancing empowering because she can lift her entire body weight up a sticky pole with just her arms and throw herself around it while still looking sexy. She enjoys doing it and it makes her feel good, so giddy up.
The other point I need to make is that I bellydance, and I’m good at that. And it usually involves strutting around a stage in a sequinned bra, shaking my boobs, shimmying my hips and looking sexy. I find that empowering, partly because of my skill and partly because I feel fabulous when I do it.
But you don’t hear anti-sex feminists complaining about bellydancing, which is, by the way, becoming incredibly popular in Western countries. And bellydancing has it’s own set of stereotypes and associated assumptions.
Thing is, anything, any physical act, can be either empowered or the result of oppression. It’s the reasons behind the act that make all the difference. And until you can read women’s minds, you can’t conclusively say that it’s one or the other.
Check out Amber Rhea’s pole dancing pics here.
Thank you for the kind words! I’m blushing now. š I do indeed love pole dancing and find it empowering… and I’ve wondered the same thing about why belly dancing is okay but pole dancing is BAD BAD BAD with no exceptions.
Thanks again!
In response to the feminist debate, a lady freind of mine suggested a solution: women should treat men as sex objects more, to compensate for the way women treat men.
What’d be the consequence? Men will do more to be sexy for women if women make it clear they want a sex object. š
I wonder if pole dancing is bad but belly dancing isn’t because it’s not protected by this wave of politically correct non-sense?
I think bellydancing hasn’t been picked on because it’s mostly taught as a “women’s dance” – at least in the West. When I started out there was much discussion about how originally the dance was performed by women for each other. There’s a bit of an “earth mother” vibe there, especially with the new trend towards “tribal” dance. We were all expected to be offended when people compared us to strippers, and we were told it was all about sensuality and femaleness.
To me that didn’t quite ring true because the cabaret style (which I love) is pure Hollywood, and there are definite sexual overtones. I WANTED to look sexy. It’s like there’s an unspoken thing going on where you perform as a gorgeous goddess but you’re not supposed to acknowledge the sexual aspect.