Dancing with Conflict

(Originally Posted on Studio Veena)


I tend to be very analytical even when it comes to dance. Starting on a new path in my life always means understanding the history and the cast. Dance is rich in that respect. At the end of my first encounter with a dance pole my teacher asked me if I wanted to freestyle. The question seemed pretty strange for someone who makes his living as a scientist.  Then I thought what the hell. I had watched enough YouTube to know that a woman by the name of Karol Helms made it look fun.

Clocks by Coldplay. I will never forget that feeling. The uneasy connection between me and dance was born that day. That conflict still lives inside of me today. It is all about my search for style and the social stigma that I feel as a male dancer. Not just pole and not just ballet, just my being a non-social dancer.

The demon really came to life the first time I took a spin to the floor. Now what? Roll over and play dead? Push up hands and knees? Roll facedown? Attempting to deal or rather not deal with the floorwork question made the next “pole dance” lesson hard. Finally in exasperation I looked at my teacher, and said, “Now what? I can’t do this.” With that declaration I crawled to the pole in my best sexy and gestured that I was flipping my hair and ran my hands down my sides.

When my teacher stopped laughing she got serious. She told me to look at Baryshnikov (“Misha” to the ballet world). She suggested that some of the other female dancers and I should get together and take a look at how the guys danced in clubs. Baryshnikov was a great help. But the guys in the gay clubs not so much. It is not like there was anything offensive about their dance. It’s just that I’m over 50 years old and I knew that trying to grind the pole in a little nothing show your stuff bikini was a fail that could lead to a divorce.

So it was Misha. Misha was my salvation. It didn’t hurt that my wife thinks Baryshnikov is one of the sexiest men on the planet. My first encounter with his power and emotion was his dance to Horses by Vysotsky in the movie White Nights. A year later I found myself standing at the barre at Ballet Nouveau Colorado clueless in the land of plié and Balanchine. Beginner class. My, “I got this I can plié.” didn’t last long. I had the joy of going to a Boulder dance supply store, buying ballet shoes, tights and a dance belt. Dance belt. Joy. What a nice way to say guy thong. All I could think of at that point was cut out the carbs. Thank God for the legs and hockey player ass. My years of ice skating saved what little comfort I had after pulling up my “dance belt” and tights in the locker room at the ballet studio.

At this point the analytical kicked in and I figured that I wasn’t the only guy who ever faced the, “He dances, he must be gay” stigma. I mean Baryshnikov was known all over ballet for being the “The horny little Russian”. Balanchine… Tallchief, Le Clercq, Farrell. Peter Martins… Heather Watts, Darci Kistler. A single Google search brought up some scholarly stuff: When Men Dance: Choreographing Masculinities Across Borders by Jennifer Fisher and Anthony Shay, The Male Dancer: Bodies, Spectacle, Sexualities by Ramsey Burt, Men Who Dance by Michael Gard, I was a Dancer by Jacques D’ Amboise and finally Apollo’s Angels: A History of Ballet by Jennifer Homans.

I devoured them along with my once a week pole dance and ballet lessons. My blogspot blog entry about my first public pole dance performance after I blended classical ballet with pole is still #1 in page hits. It works. I feel sexy and powerful when I transition using a deep plié or show my attempts at mastering the Russian classic arm positions of Vagonova at the top of a spinning pole. But I have to say that the uneasy truce I have called between the hockey player and the dancer in my head can be easily disturbed. I have found my style and it works as long as I don’t wonder too long about what other people see when I dance. I can’t ignore it. Growing up male can be such a handicap when it comes to feeling instead of thinking. I am not alone either. Michael Gard studied male dancers who identified as either straight or gay. The stories of the straight dancers were filled with this conflict.

It is one of the reasons why I choose not to be anonymous in person or on the Internet. What if more of us spoke out and told the world that our need to dance has nothing to do with our sexual preference? Maybe the guys in ballet wouldn’t have to dance three parts in Nutcracker because there are only six guys under 18 in the entire student company. Maybe more guys would be able to say that watching Wendy Whelan and Tyler Angle rehearse Dinah Washington’s This Bitter Earth/On the Nature of Daylight moved something deep inside.

Oh and This Bitter Earth… It’s mine. As soon as I can plié and shoulder mount again.

Tyranny of the Mirror

"The mirror shows the impossibility of perfection. And thus a curious intimacy was born: I was constantly sharping, changing, improving, and restyling myself, while the mirror - cold and constant sat in judgement, like God." ~ Toni Bentley - The Surrender


Eventually you look up and see yourself. My pole dance studio doesn't have mirrors but my ballet studio does. The first thing you notice is the unforgiving, floor to ceiling oracle. The video camera becomes the mirror for me on the pole. There is this strange disconnect in dance. We are told not to think about it. Be free. Dance. Empowerment.  Discover our inner self. Get in touch with our bodies.

But then there are the corrections, bruises, slipping, and practicing the same moves over and over again trying to get it perfect. When you move on the pole never have a flexed foot. Ballet... "When the foot leaves the floor it is pointed." Don't wing. Don't sickle. There isn't enough Lithium or Invega on the planet to fix this bipolar tug of war over a dancers heart.  There is even more anxiety hidden in the polished quartz. When we look beyond technique we also peer deeper into the darkness. We see the extra weight, extra wrinkles, a bit of grey, big thighs, skinny calves, funny hair.

The truth of the matter is that we are all looking for something when we come to dance whether we know it or not. In the last year I have come to understand Claire Griffin Sterrett and George Balanchine. There are times when the Zen is right and you know you look good in that God-like mirror. And then there are the times when you hurt and the mirror kicks you when you are down. It is then that Claire and George's appeals to beauty, sexuality and art come up wanting.

We dance in anger. We dance in pain, We dance in joy. Dance is like life. Thinking otherwise is to live in denial because we cannot dance forever.

Studio Open House 2011

Last night I danced in my third open house recital. Every May the pole dance studio where I dance has an open house where every level from beginner to advanced gets a chance to show their family and friends what the dance is all about. The first two years have been semi-traumatic for me. I’m the lone guy among thirty or so wonderful women.

This year was different. When my time to perform came up I was nervous to be sure but I wasn’t on the edge of panic. Strangely enough I have ballet dance to thank for that. It all started near the end of last summer when my pole dance teacher took my Mazzy Star and Tori Amos away from me and played Shubert’s Ave Maria and told me to do something with it. I think she has a bit of Jerome Robbins hidden in her somewhere. :-)

I’m sure it was awkward as hell to look at but inside it moved something. Somewhere deep inside I have this great need for structure and order and somehow my guts got connected with my legs and arms. After I finished the song my teacher and I talked and she suggested that I look at companies in Denver where I could learn modern or ballet. The mere thought of ballet scared the crap out of me. The thought of a fifty-four year old slightly gray haired guy walking into the world of Gelsey Kirkland, George Balanchine and Dancing on My Grave, gave me chills. I did the polite nod and shake my head knowing that I wanted my Mazzy Star back as soon as I could get my Ipod plugged back into the studio sound system.

The end of summer also marks the end of summer ice hockey and while I was getting the mandatory deep tissue massage that keeps a guy my age playing I mentioned that my pole dance teacher wanted me to “cross-train” and that ballet was one of her suggestions. My massage therapist just lit up. Her daughter is a “bunhead” and she told me about a local company in Broomfield, Colorado that had a professional company, a student company, and beginning adult classes. Ballet Nouveau. If you have read my earlier account of my: will I, won’t I, call the pole dance studio and talk with someone you probably know how this story played out.

In mid October I found myself standing at the barre not knowing a plié from a waltz step. I’m a hockey player. I skate like I walk, probably better. I was so lost. It was worse than the pole studio. My first pole lessons were in private and now I was surrounded by women. The class was supposed to be Fundamentals of Ballet but nearly every woman in that class had at one time or another taken ballet lessons. They were coming back to something that they knew and I can tell you that once you are a ballet dancer the steps live in you forever. Even the language is a killer. My second language is Spanish and “de” isn’t “duh”. I was learning a whole new terminology along with a trip back in time to a place that according to Jennifer Holmans author of Apollo’s Angels, no longer exists.

Thank God for my teacher. She is a former professional ballet dancer. She knows the steps, the mental anguish, the physical pain, and how to sew the elastic straps into a ballet shoe. She also understands the sheer beauty and peace that comes with the dance. By November I had given up the sweats and made the transition to a dance belt and tights. The male company members were all so kind and helpful. The little girls still always greet me with a bit of a quizzical look but I am just as home at the barre as I am at the pole.

I’m terrible at ballet but getting better. I tend to over think it and my fifth looks like fourth but it has given me a way to move and transition at the pole that is truly mine. I don’t do pole fitness. I’m a pole dancer and ballet has given me a way to connect the dots in a way that most men won’t touch. I’m tracing the lines of Elena Gibson, Amber Richard, and my teacher without pointe shoes.

You are never really sure if something is going to work until an audience sees it and this past weekend was it. For weeks I had been playing with choreography to Patti Scialfa’s song Spanish Dancer. As much as I like the song I was burning out on it and probably most important my wife really doesn’t like Patti’s singing. Carol was going to be at the Open House. I wanted my dance to have music she liked.

So I fell back on a song that I love but deemed too long for the program. Hans Zimmer’s A Way of Life from the Last Samurai movie soundtrack. The closer I got to May 14, 2011 the more I wanted to back out. I was working between static pole and spinning pole in my routine and trying to make it flow. My moves seemed too simple and Amber Richard had only finished introducing me to spinning pole in March. The only new move I had was the “jade” and spinning a sideways climb on a static pole. What I didn’t know I had was arabesque, balancé, degagé, shoulders open, a decent support leg, and knowing the count.

Open house rehearsal was Friday the 13th. How perfect. I have never felt so good about my dance. It was about the pole but I wasn’t glued to it like I would fall down if it went away. I loved having the space between the poles. I also had a story to tell. A story about warriors, kata, mind set, humility, duty, honor and accepting the sword. Accepting a way of life that the ancient samurai understood just as well as the soldier stationed with the 10th Mountain Division in Afghanistan understands today.

The reception I got from the women at rehearsal was awesome. It was genuine. The best compliment I received was, "You told a story." Last night all the way up until I stepped up to the pole and let the music wash over me I was calmer than I have ever been before a performance. I started with my feet in third, and held my arms in preparation. From there I danced on the floor away from the poles and then came back to them. The poles weren’t slippery, I seemed to be able to hold my inversions just the right amount of time before I hooked and I landed a jade that felt pretty damn good. I hope that muscle memory kept my lines elegant and the “ugly” foot (as Amber calls it) out of sight. The applause and comments afterward made it one of those nights that will live forever. After every recital I always say never again. This time I’m just going to shut up about it and dance until next May.

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

White Rat

Last Thursday I was interviewed by a University of Colorado School of Journalism graduate student. The topic of the project she is working on is men who pole dance. I'm usually the one asking the questions and trying to put the answers together in my own mind. My dance teacher asked me if it was ok for her to contact me and I am really excited about the project.

When I told my wife that I was doing the interview we were walking through the parking lot of the Denver Center for Performing Arts after an event. Her reply to me was, "My husband is a white rat." I think she meant one of those poor little white mice that they do stupid things to in laboratories.

So what is it like being the white rat? I liked it. The person asking the questions is a wonderful woman and she is also a pole dancer. I didn't shy away from any question and I was as open and honest as I could be. The hardest question was, "What does your wife think about your pole dancing?" The simple answer is that she doesn't get it. She doesn't understand pole dance as an art form and at the heart of it has a problem with the fact that I have become friends with quite a few women. How can I help it? At my dance studio I am outnumbered.

Today is going to be a little challenging. As we were walking out of the Starbucks where we met for the interview our aspiring journalist asked if she could sit in on one of my private dance lessons, watch and take pictures. Yesterday she asked if it would be ok to videotape. I agreed.

I find myself closing my eyes in embarrassment when I watch myself on tape. It never looks right to me. So this is going to be difficult. Nonetheless the subject is male pole dancers and the way I dance today will be the way I dance. My art, my attempt to be as honest with my body as I was with my words.

I think it was the great choreographer Martha Graham who said, "The body never lies." That scares me a little bit.