P-P-Pressure

I have to admit, I’ve been feeling it lately.  A not so gentle undercurrent of peer pressure wiggling it’s way through pole & yoga, classes and conferences.  A quiet sense of strain in my fellow teachers and dancing Sistas’ as we cheer our favorite performer, awed by their hypnotic power.  We see their bodies in flight, in transition, spinning with grace, gliding through the music of their own heart beating.  And then a thought bubbles to the surface, a thought planted by an aggressive society that fears pleasure, that fears a woman who accepts her body, and her sexuality. It’s insidious, brutal, destructive and I don’t fucking like it.

Somewhere in our minds we believe that we have to PROVE ourselves worthy. PROVE our industry worthy.  PROVE pole dancing is worthy.  And if we manage to PROVE this worthiness with competitions, conferences, showcases or whatever else “they” say we should do, then we will finally be a Legitimate Sport.

I’m sorry ladies, but “they” can shove the title of “Legitimate Sport” up their asses.

 

I want what I want, when I fucking want it

You want Competitions? – I say, Fabulous!

You want Conferences? – I say, Fuck Yeah!

You want Showcases & Aerial Performances & Feats of Beauty & Strength? – I say, Where can I buy my damn ticket because I’m going too!

I love watching dancers & aerial competitors strut and swirl and hold me in breathless awe. I absolutely believe that we can all listen and follow our true heart’s desires whether that means competition, teaching, or just moving our bodies with whatever rushing wave of emotions has captured us.  I believe that sharing this feeling of living and loving our body through dance and sensual movement is essential. That we need to connect with the amazing community of women (& men) who understand the power of this dance and celebrate our asses off as often as possible.

Pole & Yoga has taught me that I can dance in pink camo thigh high socks just because I love the way they wrap around my legs. That I can wear skimpy skirts and booty pop until my thighs quake. That it’s okay to cry when I’m sad or pound the floor when I’m angry.

Sensual movement has given me the ability to actually hear the truth within my own heart and the courage to follow that truth.  Not society’s truth.  Not the media’s truth. Not the government’s truth. MY TRUTH.

 

Are You Worthy?

Ask yourself… Do you want someone else to decide if you’re worthy?

Do you want someone else to decide if your truth is the “right” truth? If your emotions are “acceptable” emotions?

Do you want to be led down someone else’s path or do you want to blaze your own damn trail?

Do you want to play a man’s game or write you own fucking rules?

I’m not willing to let society decide if my 10 year practice of dancing and living sensually is worthy. I’m not willing to hide my passion for pole dancing because some committee hasn’t voted it acceptable. I’m not willing to live in the shadows and hold my breath because the pole industry hasn’t been given an Olympic Trophy yet.

 

The Burden of Proof

I don’t give a shit if Pole Dancing is ever a Legitimate Sport or not. The moment I have to PROVE it’s worthiness, is the moment I’ve forgotten why I started dancing in the first place.

Permission. Compassion. Self-Expression. Safety. Pleasure. Playfulness. Sensuality.

I’m not apologizing, I’m not sorry, and I’m not waiting for society to “figure it out.” I’m going home, wrapping my hands around a shiny metal pole, and dancing with my body, my emotions, my heart, my truth.

You’re here. You’re alive. You’re already worthy.

You are the living embodiment of Power. You are the Beauty of Truth.

You are Sensuality in motion.

Dance and you’ll know, this breath is all the proof you’ll ever need.