My time in
pole dance has been filled with joy, laughter, wonderful friendships, and
applause. I have also experienced rejection, injury, self-doubt, sexism, and
tears. Nothing in my male life experience prepared me for the look into my soul
that would come with swinging around a dance pole to “Clocks” by Coldplay. I have
always been an extremely sensitive person in some ways. I don’t know if that is
a result of brain chemistry, my Spanish-Italian ancestry, or some other cosmic
force that pulls on my heart. All I know for sure is that before I took my
first pole dance lesson I did NOT dance. My world revolved around my family, meteorology,
ice hockey, and annoying my boss.
I really was
not body aware before I started pole dancing. After my first lesson I needed to
find something to wear that was as functional as the stuff that had a Mika or
Pole Fit logo on it. But the crotch had to be cut differently. When I went out
looking for something to dance in, all I could find was swimwear. The kind that
leaves the world no doubt about the gifts nature gave you.
As I stood
before the swimwear rack at the sporting goods store, I knew I was in for a
whole lot of conflict. Men and women were going to judge me. The mere mention
of the word, “Speedo” would get me a bucket load of disgusted remarks from any
woman under sixty that I knew. Unless of course it’s Channing Tatum. As I
pulled a pair of boy short style Speedos up my legs I could hear the hockey
locker room voices, “Is that gay or what?”
I honestly
don’t know how I got past that first time in the fitting room. As I looked in
the mirror I was thinking that women were going to see me climbing a dance pole
in this swimsuit. I could see my stomach hanging over the edge of the drawstring.
My fifty-two year old legs looked like they had been hit with a waffle iron,
and the tattoos only my wife had seen were on display. I found myself thinking
that ice hockey (all those hours in the weight rooms and skating) had given me
a decent ass and good upper body. Maybe the women would notice my arms and
chest and not see my gut. As I walked out of the store with my purchase I wasn’t
so sure that I was safe in the place women were safe.
As my time
in pole has progressed I have become acutely aware that some women really have
issues with “scantily clad men.” There is an ongoing thread on the Studio Veena
website about dress codes in pole studios. The majority of the women don’t want
to dance in studios that are body shaming. I agree with them. If you are going
to have issues with exposed body parts, why are you hanging out in pole dance
studios?
At the same time some of my best female pole friends are vocal about
men wearing dance belts under their dance wear. I started wearing one right
after I started taking ballet. Why? Because one day I was inverted and I
noticed that you could see the entire outline of guy parts in my shorts. I was
ashamed of my body. I wasn’t trying to expose it to anyone. It just happened.
Last year I was dancing in a studio where a gay guy was dancing. He was coming
out into the main studio floor from the bathroom where he had changed. He
announced that he was coming out and the unified response that came from the
women was, “You better not be wearing a thong.”
I’m pretty
sure that the response to a new thong or g-string in any pole studio I dance at
would be different for a woman. At the same time I know that a guy with a Magic
Mike body might also get a different response.
How do I feel about that? The same way a woman
feels when she opens the pages of a fashion magazine. I don’t feel sexy or “pretty”.
I know I can never live up to the Photoshopped images. When I dance,
I feel exposed and vulnerable. When I show emotion in a performance it comes
naturally but only in the moment. When I look at the video of past shows I
rarely see something I like. I keep doing it because I love to dance. You have
to love it a lot to keep on dancing when you are a guy. Especially when you are
a guy over fifty.
I try to
keep a sense of humor about my dance and keep it fun. There are women who enjoy
my company in the most intimate of pole classes. Just last month a Coed Art of
Sensual Movement class started at one of the studios where I dance. I love the
woman who teaches it. It is full blown erotic/stripper, complete with legwarmers,
seven inch platforms, and chairs. I can chair dance, throw the “Hello Boys”
shot and invert without stabbing myself.
Two weeks
ago I let the teacher tape one minute of me dancing to “Cola” by Lana Del Rey.
I posted the clip on Studio Veena. Can I tell you a secret? I don’t hear lyrics
very well in many pole studios with high ceilings. Too many Deep Purple concerts in
my younger years. It was only after I was posted my dance on Veena that I
looked up the lyrics to “Cola”.
“My pussy
taste like Pepsi-Cola”
Go ahead. Laugh with me. Laugh at me. It is all good.
“People have
asked me why I chose to be a dancer. I did not choose. I was chosen to be a
dancer, and with that, you live all your life.” Martha Graham