Flying Starts

So you remember that innocuous burp that I did not aim at my wife’s head? It turns out it was a harbinger of things to come. By the end of the day I was feeling incredibly sick. The doctor said I had a viral infection, the first in over a year, and I’ve spent the past few days sleeping, watching bad movies and playing video games. I’ve been conscious of how privileged I am to be able to convalesce in such comfort – not everyone can afford to take time off work, or buy medication, or have ridiculous amounts of junkfood.

But after resting intensively for a few days, I was surprised to find that I was feeling well enough to attend my pole dancing class today. After that yoga class that was injurious in more ways than one, I did recover enough to attend my first class, and today was my combined second/third (a double session to make up for a recent public holiday).

My overall impression after the first class was that it was uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure whether it was a difference in teachers or because it was the start of a proper term, but our warmups were pretty different to the ones we did in the trial class. Beauty, our teacher, took us through some pretty sensual moves including body rolls, crouching down and spreading our knees in circles, reaching between our legs to grab the pole and leaning forwards, lying on our backs and doing huge sweeping scissors kicks with our legs spread… They were all super functional warmups with a dancey, sexy vibe, and I just… wasn’t ready for it. I loved the actual pole moves – the jumping and spinning and holding and swinging, all of that was super fun. But I didn’t realise sexuality played such a big part of the pole experience.

This was made more clear to me when we started practicing a routine at the end of the class. I found it really awkward and unfamiliar to flick my hair, and roll my hips, and stick my butt out before doing a bend and snap. This was made worse by once again being surrounded by professional dance teachers in very revealing dance gear who were just looking to expand their repertoire, and I felt like the least fit/coordinated/sexy person in the group.

Before class today I quietly decided that I’d quit after these 8 weeks were up. So when the music started, I figured that since I was leaving I may as well go all in. As we bounced from foot to foot, I started throwing my hips around and shaking my body, and I couldn’t help but grin as I saw how much fun my reflection was having. I tried to see how smooth I could get my body rolls, how sexily I could spread my knees, and suddenly I was really enjoying myself. And the pole moves themselves were so much fun – spins and sits and curls and handstands. We even did a running jump into a carousel. By the time we got to the routine after two hours, I was exhausted but was surprised to see myself keeping up with my teacher as we blitzed through backward spins and butterfly kicks and stripper pushups. The moves came easier to me, and I felt more coordinated and confident.

During class I realised that pole seems to attract a certain type of person: a young (20-something), fit woman who is extremely confident and wants to learn how to be even sexier. I am all for women being powerful and sexy – at one point Beauty rolled down the waistband of her shorts so she had more skin to grip the pole with, and she was completely unfazed that her g-string was clearly visible. I fucking love that confidence, and I’m pretty sure I could find it within me if I searched hard enough. Today I discovered that by pretending I could be sexy I actually became sexy and I didn’t really need to fake it. But I’m not sure if I want to go down that path, you know? I’m realising that there is such a thing as “too sexy” (for me), and I’m in an ongoing conversation about where that line is.

But hey, since I’ve paid for it I’m seeing this term through.
Even though it’s eventually the norm to have lots of “pole wear”, which I guess is the really revealing clothing that shows a lot of skin so you can do the advanced moves that require extra grippage.
Even though in the Beginners 2 course students are encouraged to wear heels.
Even though the eighth class is open to friends/family/partners to watch, and a bunch of strangers will witness me attempting to be sexy.

Gosh that’s a scary thought. But I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. I have no idea what sort of person I’ll be in five weeks – for instance today I rolled up my singlet so I could grip the pole with my tummy, and it only occurred to me after I got home that my scar was on display. Huh, would you look at that, a self-fulfilling prophecy. Maybe after another few lessons of pole I’ll be all in again. But even if I’m not, this has been really fun and enlightening. I think I’m still searching for “my thing” since I’ve moved away from karate and tea ceremony, and I’m not really sure if pole is it, but… I’m really proud of myself for trying it. Watch this space I guess.

Polar Opposites

As I was getting ready to teach my private student a few days ago, I realised that I hated the uniform – it was so baggy and ugly and boyish. Technically everyone’s supposed to wear it, but I’ve noticed over the years that we don’t enforce that particular rule with any of our female students. I was always so envious whenever I trained with them, of the sporty singlets and flowing pants they wore, of the fancy sports bras and stylish tops. And when I’d had enough of “unisex” (read: boy) shirts a few weeks ago, I casually but cautiously came to taiji class wearing a cute singlet instead. I got a bunch of compliments, and everyone seemed to accept that now I was one of the exceptions too.

After letting my thoughts mature for a while, I sent a message to Sensei K and Sensei S. I told them that although I was allowed to resume training, I found that martial arts didn’t really call to me, especially not karate at the moment, and that I was going to extend my break from those classes (though I would continue with taiji and my private student).
It felt really shitty to abandon my teacher during a membership crisis (it’s possible the dojo will close down if things keep going the way they are), but I just… I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I was repulsed by the masculinity, and I wasn’t willing to put myself back in that environment.
To my surprise, it wasn’t a big deal – both of my teachers thanked me for letting them know, and told me I’d always be welcome. Huh. Guess I blew that one out of proportion again.

Over these past three months I’ve been enjoying having my evenings back, and going to the gym to keep some semblance of fitness up. I wasn’t exactly looking for a new hobby to fill the time, but I did stumble upon something that caught my interest. Someone in a facebook group shared the art of yingzong_xin drawing Disney characters poledancing, and it took my breath away. I remember commenting on how I seriously wanted to try it. And then facebook, being the creepy pervert stalker that it is, immediately started hitting me up with poledancing ads.

Unfortunately it bloody worked. The more ads I saw, the more interested I became. It was spellbinding watching incredibly beautiful people move with such strength and skill and grace, and I yearned to experience that movement myself. But it also brought up lots of uncomfortable feelings, about sexiness, and femininity, and belonging, and I wasn’t sure I could handle that. But it did seem like a good counterpoint to that masculinity I had so recently decided to move away from…

I mentioned it to Duck, my pretty-much-sister-in-law, and we shared videos and talked about attending a class. Now I had a friend for support I didn’t want to keep her waiting, so I thought I’d just have a quick look on google to see what studios were in my neck of the woods… I found plenty, and what’s more is that I learned that pole studios seemed to operate on 8-week terms, and the next term was starting in a couple of days. My casual google turned into a three-hour research session running late into the night as I looked at dozens of websites, taking notes about their schedules, how organised their syllabus seemed to be, and most importantly whether I got any vibes that they might be trans-exclusionary. Once I’d compiled as much info as I could (a desperate attempt to control the uncontrollable and increase my sense of safety), I messaged my favourite studio about an upcoming trial class they were holding. I felt nervous and awkward, but I also asked them about their FAQ – whether they meant it when they said all people were welcome, and what their policy was on trans folx. They assured me that they were a safe and inclusive space, and with those magic words I booked us in.

When Duck and I arrived there were two other women there. I was immediately intimidated by them because they were wearing professional-level outfits – incredibly short shorts and crop tops that were both stylish and practical. It turns out they were both talented dance teachers and wanted to add pole to their repertoire. I can’t speak for Duck, but standing next to them I suddenly felt utterly inadequate and wanted to leave.

But then the class started, and my nerves began to dissipate as I worked into familiar stretches. Our teacher, Steel, was a delightful young femme who was bright and funny, as well as ridiculously fit and talented. My main hope for the class would be to do some kind of spin, ideally with the feet off the floor, and I was thrilled when that turned out to be the first move. We learned the fireman’s spin (with a leg extension), the backwards spin (with a leg extension), the carousel (with a graceful dismount!), a sit (with a one-armed hang), and a headstand (my favourite)!

Backwards spin with leg extension

The moves were all considered beginner-level, but I found myself challenged by them. I frequently found myself slipping because I didn’t have the grip strength to stay up, and some of the holds hurt because they required the friction of my skin to keep me there. When we complained about the pain, Steel laughed sympathetically and showed us her callouses, saying that all the nerve endings in her thighs were dead now so she didn’t even notice. It was both impressive and intimidating.

I was also a little worried about moves that might crush my genitals against the pole, and the sit required exactly that. But to my surprise, it wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as my burning thighs and aching arms, so… maybe it won’t be extra hard for me as a trans girl. That was good to know early.

To be honest, after a lifetime of moving and playing (often acrobatically) I was hoping I’d have an innate talent for pole. I’ve leapt from balconies and flipped upside down on rings, and it was disappointing and humbling to find myself struggling compared to the other students. But then again, I’m not really in the business of comparison. I know that when I glanced at my reflection, I saw beauty and grace shining through. It was a little unrefined, that’s true, but I know that if I keep practicing I’ll get there. If I keep working at it, I know I’ll become stronger, and more flexible, and maybe take on a hint of that effortlessness that Steel exuded.

It’s early days yet, but… I think I’ve found something captivating that I want to pursue. At least for now.