(This blog was originally posted at the Dolphin Dance website. Check it out for cool blogs from my fellow teachers, too!: http://dolphindanceexotic.com/aboutus/blog/
I'm working 65 hour weeks right now, so the blog has definitely fallen behind. I figured if I'm writing elsewhere, I might as well fold it in here so the pieces can do double duty. Enjoy!)
Last night I stood in the empty Dolphin Dance studio staring at a wall. My students had just left, it was already dark outside. I was half in yoga gear, half in my street clothes. The power of seeing the blank wall caught me off guard. It was the first night I’d taught a class since the owner, and my friend, Emily had moved across the country to South Carolina. There used to be a large portrait of her on the wall directly facing the front door. It had been created by Winifred of “Photos in New York” and it has greeted me every time I’ve entered the studio since I nervously tiptoed in as a student more than a year ago. It seems strange and lonely to see a blank wall.
When I started training at Dolphin Dance I was new, physically and emotionally. I write novels as a profession and had been commissioned to write a novella about circus performers, many of whom were acrobats and aerialists and pole dancing was the closest I could get to trying aerial arts for myself. It was only going to be a one time thing. At least that’s what I told myself aloud. The truth was I was intrigued. I wanted to feel sexy, but like many young women I had been raised to think sexy was almost a dirty word. It was something to avoid or at least keep very private. It took me a month to gather the courage to join a class.
I had spent my entire life in a bubble. I had horrible self esteem. I had struggled to lose more than 100 lbs and, though I was finally near my goal weight, I had very little muscle tone and even less confidence. I remember I hardly smiled in my first class. I couldn’t look myself in the eye in the mirrors while dancing. When Emily asked us to close our eyes and just move to the music, I stayed completely still, my arms crossed tight over my chest, stiff with fear and my guilt from own audacity at thinking I could ever be “sexy.” It was one of the most vulnerable and emotionally terrifying days of my life. But at the end of class I could feel the seeds of something amazing stirring in my heart. To this day I don’t know what made me come back for a second class. Maybe it was as simple as I’d prepaid and was so desperate for money I didn’t want to waste a cent. Maybe I just knew I’d come to love it. But for whatever reason, I kept returning.
I burst into tears three times in the first six classes. Things I didn’t know I’d face emotionally at all, let alone in a dance class, would rise suddenly to the surface and Emily was always there to keep me from feeling stupid. To validate that doing anything that requires us to evoke emotion, tap into our hearts and seemingly lay them on the dance floor, can leave us vulnerable. And asking a woman, especially one who was raised very conservatively, to tap into her inner sexy beast? A few breakdowns are expected.
I learned to channel my insecurity into work. I fought to master new moves until I ingrained black bruises the size of dollar bills across my feet and legs. My self esteem rose, followed by my muscle mass. The first day I forced myself to slow down and execute a body roll (something I’d always wanted to do but felt too stiff and uncoordinated to pull off) a spark went off in my mind. I fell in love with exotic dance. I realized I could mimic the angles and curves I admired in other female dancers and, eventually, tweek them and make them my own. I watched myself in the mirror first for form and then because I genuinely liked what I saw. And the first time I got up the nerve to play on a pole in public? It was magic. I was dead sexy and I knew it. Eventually, it even became okay with me that other people knew it.
Dolphin Dance changed my life. No… Dolphin Dance saved my life. The focus we put on self esteem, confidence, sexiness and the pure love we have and express for all women, no matter their age or shape, is powerful. All women deserve to feel sexy. Right now. Not when they lose that last ten pounds or dye their hair or when they were 20 years younger. Now.
For the first time in my life I love what I see when I look in the mirror. I feel strong. I feel capable on my own and with others. I feel sexy. I feel like the me I always saw in my mind but couldn’t physically express.
I became a teacher at the beginning of the year because I wanted to share my experiences with other women. Shy wall flowers walk into my class and leave standing a little taller, shining a bit brighter, falling in love with themselves. Every day I feel like I leave the world a bit better than I found it, but the truth is I don’t do anything but give women a safe place to express themselves. They make the magic. I’m honored to be in their presence. I never expected I’d feel this way teaching pole dance.
Looking back, I attribute so much of what Dolphin Dance helped me achieve to Emily. I suppose it’s natural to put your teacher on a pedestal, but my teacher is literally the Aphrodite in my personal pantheon. I’ll never forget the first time I saw her dance in public. With her ponytail, freckles, glasses and inconspicuous tee shirt and jeans she was hardly the first person you’d expect to toss her hair and slide down the pole rolling her hips and twisting her body in a way that makes her look like she’s floating. For the first time I really started to realize the almost innocent joy that can come from letting your inner sexy goddess come out to play. After all, women are made of paradoxes, contrasts and mystery. They’re beautiful and powerful by nature. How much a woman chooses to share of her inner self is entirely up to her, but to hide out of shame is a crime. In a single dance, Emily removed the stigma from “sexy” for me forever.
When Emily told me her husband was being relocated across the country because of the military I didn’t hesitate to volunteer with my fellow teacher Marie to manage the studio. I couldn’t stand the thought of a world without Dolphin Dance.
It’s no surprise, then, that Emily moving could leave me staring at a blank wall trying not to cry. But the strength and skills Emily left me and the “Dolphin Power” I found dancing with my girls has made me confident I can help carry on Emily’s legacy here in Washington. I’m excited, honored and a bit terrified.
I put a large bulletin board on the wall where Emily’s picture used to hang. I want to use it to display pictures of my students doing moves they’re especially proud of because those moves are more than sexy displays of buffness; they represent new beginnings, overcome challenges, the power of womanhood. Dolphin Power. They’re a record of my girls blossoming and I couldn’t be a prouder mama. I pinned a mini print of Emily’s portrait in the middle of the bulletin board for good measure. Mama Dolphin watching over us all.
Charleston is lucky to have Emily. I’m sad to see her go. But more than anything, I can’t wait to see what the future will bring.
Launa
