Pole Dancing, Anyone?

“Now let’s each think of a stripper name.”

Orientation for Stripping 101? Not exactly. I was among ten girls invited to my friend’s birthday celebration: a private pole dancing session at Pole Pressure in DC (www.polepressure.com).

The instructor, Amanda, towered above all of us in her clear stilettos with black and white ankle straps. I wanted to keep my bones intact so, like most of the other girls, I went barefoot.

Pole dancing is no longer a taboo exclusive to exotic dancers. The instructors at the DC studio are well-rounded individuals from engineers to graduate students. Just as well, women of all ages and backgrounds are seeking this fun alternative, whether to branch out from a traditional workout or to fulfill artistic expression. Choosing from a selection of pole dancing, chair play, and Coyote Ugly, women get an intense workout consisting of dance sequences, squats, and ab exercises.

“Lay me Laila”.

“Ecstasy”.

Racy names echoed across the dim-lit room. I wrote Jazmin on my name tag (to me, the alternate spelling gave it a certain edge).

I wasn’t sure what to expect from this class. When my friend heard about my taking a pole dancing class, he sent me a YouTube video of dancers defying gravity in formations I didn’t think were possible. Considering my last attempt to do pull-ups stopped at number one, I was pretty sure that my lack of upper body strength would limit me.

But before I knew it, I was prepping my pole with Windex and doing some kind of sexy strut around the pole to the beat of Eminem’s ‘Lose Yourself’. Then, each time after Amanda demonstrated some spin, we tried to mimic it. We leaned back from the pole and twisted around it, then caught ourselves with our right leg. We teased the pole, leaning towards it and tossing our hair back. We gripped tightly to it, inching upwards to the ceiling. Elementary exercises eventually progressed to an upside-down glide down the pole. Our hard work paid off—for some, too much so. Large bruises across the arms and legs were unsettling to look at but reminded us of how much fun we had.

After an hour of pole play, we shed our name tags and workout clothes and transformed into our nightlife wardrobe. We went to Josephine’s downtown. Incidentally, there was a pole in the middle of the dance floor. Before the class, I wouldn’t have thought to touch it. But with our boost in confidence, all of us each took our turn, practicing the newly learned moves.

I have still retained several of the dance moves, but one class is certainly not enough. I have already signed up to take more classes at the studio. My identity as Jazmin really wasn’t just a temporary, separate entity—it was a part of me.