She Was Here

Almost a year ago I made a post at the beginning of my pole dancing journey about why pole dance is deeper than a method of exercise. However, I realize I never fully articulated what it means for me and how it has begun to change me– to heal me. This blog is more or less a public journaling exercise in learning to embrace being vulnerable. Pole is very similar, especially since I document my journey on Instagram. Having the courage to start the sport, fall in love with it and be so publicly enthusiastic has saved me in many ways. But from what, you may ask?Shame that clings to me like sodden clothing.

Keep that image of me fully clothed and drenched. While the fabric is too opaque to see through to my skin and undergarments, my body is still on full display. You can see my shape and the areas I’m insecure about. Now imagine I’m wearing a white linen robe instead of a dark t-shirt and jeans. Maybe this is what your mind went to anyway. There is no true barrier anymore. You see everything. The worst part is I never asked to be drenched. That decision was made for me. I couldn’t have made that decision anyway. Nevertheless, I am branded with a scarlet ‘A’ for my body is the reason boys commit sins against me and I must accept the consequences of genetics.

I have had a strained relationship with my body since the very start of puberty. If we’re still using the fruit method I have been pear shaped since eleven years old. Even at my lowest weights my hips, thighs and ass stole the show. Womanly curves have always been absolutely mesmerizing to me. The way they fill out a dress and add even more movement to a dance make me stop dead in my tracks. However, I never felt the same way towards my own. It took at least two months of pole classes–and a one off line from my therapist– for me to realize all these years of poor body image and disordered eating came from how the world around me reacted toward my body.

Since I was eleven years old I have been force fed shame over my body and further reinforced by being treated as an object. As trivial as it may sound, I have always been “sexy” before I even had a chance to just be “pretty” which often entailed being treated with less respect and violation of boundaries galore. So I rendered myself invisible– or I at least tried. Baggier clothes to distort and distract from my body. Closed off body language with RBF. Stiffening my posture and denying myself the joys of dance. Talking myself out of buying beautiful, innocuous, garments out of fear of being labelled “fast” or “easy”. Yet none of it truly protected me and I became a shell.

Pole has begun to give me hope again. Hope that my body is mine. That’s what I am reclaiming. My body was public property before it was ever mine. My body has been regarded as an object for public consumption, objectification and judgment way before I even had the chance to get to know it as well as myself. Pole has helped me begin to take back the power over my body that is rightfully mine. For the first time in my life I truly understand what it is like to actually live in my body instead of passively existing. I call the shots now. I decide when I want to be sexualized just as I decide I want to be seen as graceful and beautiful. I push my limits for my own benefit, not for some unworthy boy’s pleasure. I can finally look in the mirror without feeling disgust and hatred.

Pole has placed directly into my hands the power to define myself.