Women and The Gaze

There is something inherently disturbing to most women about erotic dance and the women who perform it.  Some of this disturbance stems from an overall discomfort with sex and sexuality, which then gets translated into judgment of the women who are more comfortable with it.  Some of it, though, comes from the uneasy sense that to engage in such overtly sexual behavior is to risk being objectified.  In objectification, the gaze of the audience (usually male) regards the women who are dancing as tools to be used, as a means to an end rather than an artist who is sharing her talents and gifts.  The common thread among all forms of erotic dance, from temple dancing to striptease is that there is almost always a watcher, and that watcher is male.  Helen Thomas describes this phenomenon in her book “The Body, Dance and Cultural Theory”: 

The female is the object of the ‘male gaze’ and the viewer (male or female) is entreated to see her through the male look.  The woman in film [or dance] is objectified and rendered passive by active power of the male gaze…

Feminist critics are concerned with how women can transcend this passive “to-be looked-at-ness” , as is the everyday woman.   In other words, how can women resist being rendered passive by the male gaze?  And can they instead, look back at the men? 

This is exactly what the women in exotic dance do.  They look back.  There is nothing passive about the way in which exotic dancers receive their audience’s gaze.  Lucinda Jarrett makes the argument that one of the things that keeps erotic dance in the grey area between the formal and informal arts is the blurry line between the performer and audience.  Anita Berber, who began performing nude in 1918 in cabarets in Germany, was known for “looking back”:

[She was known]… for combining her nakedness with a powerful expression of her emotional integrity.  She carried the creed of her art into her private life.  Her uniqueness was in the beauty of her body that dared to look back at the audience.  She lashed out at members of the audience who were not watching her as she wanted to be watched.

La Goulue, a famous can-can dancer at the Moulin Rouge, “…would stare greedily at the crowds, absorbing the desire that shone in their faces, which turned pale under her insolent gaze.”   These women are far from being rendered passive by the male gaze.  What distinguishes them from being objectified by the male gaze is their willingness to participate with their audience and, in effect, look back at them, to challenge them.  There is tremendous power in being able to own one’s body and sexuality so forcefully and confidently.  This power, and the pleasure women take in displaying their sexuality is unfortunately precisely what earns them the label “slut” in American culture.  We don’t like women who do that sort of thing.  We either denigrate them or we pity them as victims of low self-esteem or of abuse.  We assume that they take no personal pleasure in their actions.  And if they do, then God help them – they need saving.

            This concern about the objectification of women is connected to the stigma of the “slut”.  Merri Lisa Johnson argues that traditionally, women who have openly displayed their appetite for sex or their willingness to engage in sexual behavior have been judged as having loose morals and therefore being “bad”.  In this context, “stripper sexuality” which is characterized by a heightened sensuality, could be considered non-normative sexual behavior, like homosexuality or bisexuality.  This open sexuality often gets pigeonholed as dysfunctional, or the unfortunate result of childhood sexual trauma.  The common cultural perspective on stripping or erotic dance is that it takes something away from a woman whether it is self-respect, self-esteem or freedom.

"We might argue, in contrast, that it is mainstream culture that takes something -our sexual freedom - away from us, and stripping can, in some cases, give it back.  In Pat Califia’s introduction to an anthology of forbidden fantasies, a contrast is drawn between the American cultural hysteria over sexual abuse, defined as incest, pedophilia, rape and other egregious acts of sexual aggression, versus a different kind of sexual abuse, defined as sexual panic and the withholding of information about sexuality.  As part of the sex radical segment of feminism, Califia, along with Amber Hollibaugh, Carol Queen, and other feminist sexual educators, redefines abuse to reveal how it is endemic to American cultural constructions of sexuality in its common prohibitions on speech, knowledge, and experimentation.  From this point of view, it is possible to invert the usual hierarchy of strip clubs and mainstream American institutions of sexuality like family church and marriage.  Whereas sociologists and psychologists have historically approached the stripper as an abuse victim, perpetuating her abuse by working in the sex industry, one could make an equally valid argument that nonstrippers - those who are uncomfortable with public nudity, those who confuse lack of modesty with a lack of self-respect, those who perceive explicit sexual talk as inappropriate outside the bedroom or the monogamous couple - are also abuse victims, learning these psychological and social cues within a strict sexual economy that prohibits the free play of pleasure."

This argument is similar to the one Barnaby Barratt  makes in his book “Sexual Health and Erotic Freedom”, in that it suggests that sexual phobia is so endemic to our culture that we are unaware of the lenses through which we view sexuality and how they color our perceptions.  Both the stigma of being objectified and the stigma of being viewed as a slut not only interfere with women’s perception of others who are able to transcend these labels, but restrict them from enjoying the full spectrum of their sensuality and connecting with their erotic power.  And an understanding and connection to our erotic power, as we know, is an essential part of a healthy female psyche.

Take It Off!

I’m always slightly amused by pole dancing studios that insist on stating that there is NO STRIPPING involved in their classes.  As if somehow this assertion will insure that no one will confuse what they do with what strippers do.  As if what distinguishes stripping and pole dance classes is the removal of clothing. 

            I actually strip in my dance classes.  I strip down to a thong and a bra.  Not in every class, and when I do strip, not every layer always comes off.   But I take my clothes off.  You see, I think the act of stripping off layers is important for a couple of reasons.  First, it’s an art form.  Getting out of your clothes gracefully while dancing a mastering the art of the tease takes tremendous talent and practice.

            According to Lucinda Jarrett, stripping is actually a uniquely American art form and it was here that the art of striptease was first recognized as a craft.  Back in the forties, strippers dubbed themselves “ecdysiasts” and schools for teaching the art of walking, posing and peeling sprung up everywhere.  Once these parts were mastered, and the women gained sufficient confidence, they would bring their own personalities into the act, including costumes.  How much one could reveal or suggest through the tease without baring it all was the name of the game .  In our current culture, where baring it all has become the norm, there is something to be said for the sensual art of revealing one's self slowly and deliberately.

            Secondly, there is an emotional component to stripping that is extraordinarily enticing to me.  There is something so freeing about shedding your clothing, layer by layer.  I love pulling at the hem of my shirt while I swing around the pole or feeling my ankles get tangled up in a miniskirt that has found it's way down my legs.  I take real pleasure in revealing myself to my classmates, layer by layer.  That pleasure comes from the understanding that my vulnerability and my power are inextricably mixed up in this process.  In revealing myself, I make myself vulnerable.  But the act of revealing myself holds my audience captive and mesmerized, which feels powerful. 

             In the play "The Why Factor" (sponsored by S factor studios - click here to read my review) a group of women who decide to take a pole dancing class are challenged by their teacher to "peel off the layers".  The metaphor for taking off one's clothes, in this case, is to take off the layers of bandages that we put over our emotional wounds.  During her monologue,  Pele, who is the teacher, begins to take her own layers off:

            Now we’re getting somewhere.  Peel it off Verne.  Peel off the layers.  Maybe

            then you will be able to figure out why you said yes.  Maybe then you will be

            able to feel something.  (PELE has begun to circle the room, continuing to peel                          layers off her clothing. The goddess is beginning to get angry)  Would that be so bad?  

Would opening your legs lead to opening your heart?  What if it did and

            what spilled out what dirty, rank sewer water?   Could you let that wash over

            you if it meant ridding yourselves of it once and for all?  Or do you want it to

            stay inside and fester?  To pus over and harden, so you can carry it around for                   everybody to share?  Is that what all of you want?  (she strips off more clothing) 

            Is that what you’re afraid of?  Your truth?

This monologue reflects some of what I find so powerful about the process of peeling away clothing from our bodies: it’s about revealing our sexuality deliberately and slowly, about exposing our most vulnerable selves.  There can be something very emotionally potent about the act of stripping.  As Catherine Roach says so eloquently in her book “Stripping, Sex and Popular Culture”, stripping can become a metaphor for taking off inhibitions, such as shame, guilt, fear and ignorance.  It can become a way of stripping off narrow definitions of beauty and sexiness, and of the oppression of those who enjoy sexual pleasure outside of the norm.

            There is a common misperception that stripping is about exposure and overexposure.  I disagree.  When I remove my clothes, I am choosing to reveal parts or even all of my body to another.  I am stripping away my inhibitions and shame over my body.  I’m defying the demand that society makes of me to keep it under wraps, to cover it up, to restrict my appetite.  I am reveling in the pleasure of offering something delicious to another.  I am enjoying the tease.  So the next time you are swinging around that pole or rolling around on the floor, put on an extra layer or two first, and slowly, sensually, deliberately take it off!

Did You Hear?

The Pole Story has a beautiful new website!  Click here to visit!

Also, if you missed my post on Mr. Josiah "Bad Azz" Grant, male pole dancer, click here.

Care for a Dance Lesson?

Let’s take a moment to talk about dance, specifically erotic dance.  It’s a term that people shy away from in the pole community, for a number of reasons: it links us to strip clubs, it implies that what we are doing is designed to arouse others and nothing more and it’s too sexual.  But pole dancing, like most dancing, is inherently erotic.

Judith Lynne Hanna is a cultural anthropologist who focuses the majority of her work on dance.  She claims that dance can provide a medium for humans to “identify themselves and to maintain or erase their boundaries.”  It’s an interesting definition because it suggests that dance provides an avenue for people to both explore and express who they are and what they desire through movement.  When people refer to pole dancing as being empowering for women, I believe that this is partly what they are referring to: the ability to explore, define and redefine their sexuality through movement.  Sexuality after all is primarily experienced through the body and dance can be an excellent vehicle for exploring sensation in the body. 

“Aphrodisiac dancing” is a broad category under which sex and dance are directly associated.  According to Hanna, aphrodisiac dancing sorts out who is playing what role in the game of sexual partnering.    The dancing might be illicit or it might not.  It might happen within the confines of a relationship or marriage, or outside those confines. The purpose of the dancing is almost always for entertainment and camaraderie and sexual arousal is either implicit or explicit.  Notice that Hanna does not directly associate aphrodisiac dance with disreputable behavior, but states that this form of dance can occur in a wide variety of settings, including disreputable ones.

            According to Hanna, erotic dance is traditionally female dominated.  In some cultures, women may only dance for other women, especially if they are married. Among the wealthy in cultures around the world, female sexual charm has been respected and even cultivated.  In Europe, a class of women known as courtesans were allowed in the royal court and able to garner some social mobility by displaying their feminine charms and sexual prowess through dance, among other things.  China has a long history of accepting concubines and dancing girls as in integral part of the ruling-class and working-class culture.  During the T’ang dynasty, the dancing courtesan had become a social institution and a point of pride for the cities.  In Japan, the geisha was taught the arts of dancing, singing and playing instruments. 

Other countries that have a rich history of erotic dance including the Middle East and India.  According to Lucinda Jarrett, the belly dance is the oldest erotic dance in the world.  It was originally a fertility rite practiced by the Ancient Egyptians in the temples.  The dance was an homage to the Egyptian god, Atum-Re.  The Ancient Egyptians believed that he brought the world into existence through masturbation.   Hinduism holds that a man’s soul is in a constant state of suffering which can only be released through prayer and meditation (Yoga) or through sensual enjoyment where the pleasure of sex frees man from desire (Bhoga).  The spiritual guides in the Bhoga practice are beautiful women who teach their followers to cast off the ego and to achieve joy in the total union of the God and Goddess (masculine and feminine) aspects of the Hindu faith.  These forms of erotic dance are the precursor to the Western version of the striptease and social dances like the lambada, salsa and the lindy hop.

Social dancing (also known as “the informal arts”) can be distinguished from the “formal arts” because it is not necessarily designed for performance and is based on participation instead of spectacle.  Jarrett categorizes erotic dance as somewhere in between the formal and informal arts.  She attributes this to the fact that erotic dance relies on creating what she refers to as ‘an intimate distance” between the artist and the spectator.  The fantasy being created is a shared fantasy and therefore the boundaries between audience and performer are blurred.  This is perhaps what makes this type of dancing so erotically potent.  It isn’t simply the movements, or the open sexuality that accompany the movements, but the direct way in which the dancers share their eroticism with their audiences.  While social dance can also be overtly sexual, it lacks the performer-audience dynamic that is an integral part of the sexual charge being created in erotic dancing. 

Erotic dance in the West began with a British touring company known as the British Blondes.  They performed in tights in the 1860’s and the display of leg created a sensationalistic stir that gave birth to a number of spin-off dancing troupes.  These ladies traveled throughout the United States as well as England.  They also gave birth to particular type of farcical comedy known in England as Burlesque comedy.  In England, burlesque still suggests a form of bawdy satire.  In the United States, in the second half of the 19^th century, burlesque became associated with illicit entertainment and it became difficult for these women to perform and maintain their reputation.  At the same time, in Paris, working class balls gave birth to a new dance known as the “quadrille”, or the pre-cursor to the can-can. The quadrille was all improvisation, all kicking limbs and frenetic movements.   The thrill was the view of the women’s undergarments as they kicked and sometimes pulled up their skirts.  But by far the biggest impact on Western striptease was the import of the Middle Eastern belly dance.  First introduced in the United States at the Chicago World Fair in 1893, belly dance drew 25-30 million visitors and a tremendous amount of scandal.  Despite the outraged reactions, people continued to return, drawn by the sensuous movements and uncorseted bodies of the dancers.  By the 20^th century, burlesque in the United States had become synonymous with striptease and the art of sexual display, and the audiences were almost entirely male

            Perhaps what is so astonishingly consistent throughout the century and a half that erotic dance has existed in the United States is not how much more the women who perform today have to reveal to their audiences, but how these women are marginalized consistently for the exact same reason, decade after decade.  To make the argument that it is how much of the body that is revealed by these dancers or the way in which they reveal it that is offensive is to make the exact same argument that was being made one hundred and fifty years ago when women dancing in tights was considered scandalous.  Moreover, it is glaringly apparent that all forms of dance, even the ballet, have sexual components to them.  So what is it about erotic dance that we find so deeply offensive and disturbing?   Is it possible that what we find offensive and disturbing is the overt display of female sexuality?   And is it possible that this fear stems from our disconnection with our own erotic potential?  Erotic dance is the perfect mirror for our sex phobia.  And is it possible that erotic dance, long viewed by our culture as a job for women who are oppressed, uneducated and have very low self-esteem could actually serve another purpose, namely a vehicle for women to reconnect with their sexual and erotic selves?  Certainly women in this industry have been exploited and continue to be.  But could this be because rather than celebrating these displays of female sexuality, and appreciating them for their beauty, we choose to shame and denigrate them and the women who offer them to us?

As pole dancers, we have the opportunity to fight and even change this perception of erotic dance and the women who choose to learn it and share it with others.  We also have the power, through our movement, to constantly define and redefine the boundaries of our sexuality.  Hop to it, ladies.

Speech at DC Pole Convention 2010

Miss out on my speech at the DC Pole Convention last weekend?  Well, not to worry.  It's on YouTube!

The presentation is broken into four parts.  Click on the links below to view each section.

Part 1: Introduction



Part 2: The Inner Temptress 


Part 3: Tools and Solutions 


Part 4: Questions and Answers 


And feel free to share it with others!

DC Pole Convention

Well, the Pole Convention was a blast!  Highlights included the BadKitty Fashion Show, an amazing showcase of your favorite pole stars including Felix Cane, Karol Helms, Alethea Austin, Estee Zakar, Mina Mortezaie, Amber Ray, Zoraya Judd, and Sally-Ann Giles.  There was a “Spins and Tricks Battle” won by MISTER Josiah “Badazz” Grant, and there were a number of workshops offered throughout the weekend.  All (well, almost all!) of our favorite vendors were there including Bad Kitty Exotic Wear, who launched their amazing new PoleFit line, PoleSkivvies,  X-Pole and The Pole Fitness Association.  And last but not least, there were a number of speakers who presented on topics ranging from pole going to the Olympics to the importance of eating right. The Convention was well attended and of course, incredibly fun!

            Aside from being fun, the pole convention had the benefit of uniting a group of people whose primary form of connection, until this weekend,  has been the internet and competitions.  It was both exciting and inspiring to see how far some women had traveled (Australia! Luxembourg!) just to be a part of this event.  And it spoke to the passion and the dedication that I think is an inherent part of this movement.  

            What I also found fascinating was how different each dancer’s performance was in the Showcase of the Stars.  Styles ranged from an elegant almost ballet-like performance to a sassy burlesque striptease, to several downright sexy, erotic dances.  I was very excited that Alethea Austin chose to do quite a bit of floor work in her routine – something that I think is missing in many of the studios. I was also rather pleased that the sensually based movements got just as much applause as the exquisite pole tricks.  Whenever a dancer would do something a little naughty, there would be quite a bit of shrieking and cheering from the audience.  It appears that women are just as excited about being sexy as they are about throwing tricks on the pole.

As many of you know, I spoke at the convention about bringing pole into the public eye, and how to deal with issue of sexuality in our dance.  I cannot tell you how happy I was with everyone who came and listened.  I was particularly touched by the stories some of you chose to share.  While I know that I did not address everyone’s concerns,  I WILL be writing about them in the future.  Your questions and comments renewed and affirmed my commitment to sharing the benefits of pole dancing with anyone and everyone who will listen!  I was thrilled to be able to present and per your requests, I will be posting my speech on YouTube by the end of the week.  Please feel free to forward it anyone who you think would be interested!  See you at next year’s convention!

...And I'm Anchored Through My Vagina

I was recently hanging out with my friend Meghan B, a fellow pole dancer and a woman who is NOT afraid to be in her body.  We were talking about pole dancing, and women who pole dance and sharing some frustration about things that we sometimes felt were missing from our dancing, and sometimes from other women’s dancing as well.  Meghan was struggling to express exactly what she meant and so finally she just said, “It’s just like there is not enough of THIS!”, making a large downward V-motion  along her vagina with her hands, repeatedly.  I’m going to insert a picture here, so you can REALLY see what I mean.

“This?” I said, repeating the motion with my own hands, and trying to find words for it.  

“Yeah, this!”  She said, repeating the motion.

“You mean…Anchoring Through Your Vagina?” I asked.

“YES!” she said.  We exploded into laughter, but I knew exactly what she meant.  She was talking about this feeling that sometimes, despite all the hip circling and head tossing, there could be a real lack of sexual force and presence in the way we move.  That our seat, our pelvic floor, was somehow not connected to the earth, that somehow we weren’t really living in that sexual space between our legs, just making shallow attempts at it.  It’s an awful feeling.  Empty and powerless.

A few days later I was out with some of my other lovely friends (who have all either pole danced or are currently pole dancing, or are teaching pole dancing) for a mani/pedi/martini evening.  As we were letting our nails dry, catching up on each other's lives and flipping through the gossip magazines, Heather announced that Katie Holmes was set to play Jackie O. in some made-for-TV movie.  “Whaaaaat?”   Everyone was a bit surprised.  I pointed out that it was as weird as Jennifer Love-Hewitt  being cast to play Audrey Hepburn.  It just didn’t feel right, there wasn’t enough oomph, enough presence, enough weight or depth to these women, you know they just weren’t…and  all of a sudden I found myself making the downward V-motion along my vagina.  Rather emphatically.  My friends looked at me quizzically.  “Uh, no, we don’t know.  What’s…?” And they repeated the motion. 

“Anchored Through Your Vagina.” I explained.  They laughed their heads off.  And of course, they completely got it.

“I love how you said that, like it’s just an everyday thing…and it kind of should be!” said my friend Meghan S. (I have two Meghans in my life, and they are both splendid people).

“Yeah, sort of like ‘What did you do today?’ ‘Oh, I went to get a hamburger, oh and by the way,  I’m 

Anchored Through My Vagina” said my friend Julie.

EXACTLY like that!  For the rest of the evening, we inserted the phrase “Anchored Through My Vagina” whenever possible, along with the hand gestures.  Between that, and smacking our own asses at dinner to describe the way someone danced, we had quite the evening. 

At one point during dinner, my friend Meghan S. pointed out that it might actually be really important to have that sensation of anchoring, of external force coming from the vagina, because it so often spends its time taking things in.  She’s right.  We don’t spend a lot of time pushing out from our vaginas, unless we are giving birth.  Most of us are hardly aware of our pelvic floors in our day-to-day living.  And yet, there is a deep well of knowledge that lives in that part of our bodies.  It can inform us about our sexuality, our desires, our fears and our scars.  When we take the time to explore that part of ourselves in our dance, we begin to make friends with it.   And I think what also begins to happen is that we start to feel a certain weight and presence in our sexuality and in our movements.  The movement no longer come from our arms and legs, it comes from our pelvis, from our seat of power.  And this discovery gets translated into how we move in our everyday lives. 

So the next time you dance, see if you can find that connection to your pelvic floor.  And if you feel disconnected from your movement,  see if you can find a way through it by exploring the space in between your hip bones.  And the next time you are feeling distanced from your  sexuality, ungrounded or even disempowered, ladies,  simply point your hands into that  magical V-Shape (emphatically) and repeat these words: “…And I am Anchored Through My Vagina"!