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Pole position

New exercise craze finds ways around sordid roots

I am crawling around on studio hardwood, back arched, derriere swaying, a manufactured come-hither look in my eye. Stopping in front of the mirror, I drop to one hip and pose like a 1950s pin-up babe before flipping into a side split, running my hand up and down my thigh, which is clad unbefitting the sensual caress in utilitarian martial arts-style workout pants.

Attire notwithstanding, I proceed with a languid roll back to my hands and knees again. A quick pop up with a toss of my head and I’m back on my feet. Enough of this floor work. It’s time to hit the pole.

I strut toward the brass installation, one eye on the lithe, raven-haired beauty in short leggings, who beckons me to follow her lead. Gripping the pole precisely she sails around it, rock hard abdominals tensing. She flows out of the hypnotic spin, stepping back with a flirty twirl and a coquettish toss of her head full of bouncy dark curls.

It’s my turn. I approach. I falter, rearranging my grip several times so not to succumb to the dreaded "pole burn" before awkwardly pitching myself around the brass staff, the strain of holding myself up unfashionably apparent in my expression and in the tendons that pop out of my neck. I touch down heavily and attempt a paltry dismount.

"You’ve almost got it," says pole dance instructor Shannon Forbes, smiling, leaving me to try, try again as she saunters off to help my adjacent classmates with their various pole-related hang-ups, hang upside-downs and helicopter spin attempts. And I do try again, until my hands tingle and my forearms pulse with overuse and hamper my best intentions. In the days that follow I will barely be able to pick up the cat with my aching muscles.

But then again, no one said pole dancing was going to be easy.

• • •

That difficulty, the acknowledgement of the superior strength and agility required to pull off even the simplest pole moves, and the tight, admirable bodies of the women that do it best, has ushered pole dancing from the dark stage of the strip club into the broad daylight of mainstream women’s fitness. Once the domain of the scantily clad bump-and-grind corps, pole dancing-based workout classes, garnished with striptease stretches and sensual movement dance, are now slotted into the schedule at the local rec centre between racquetball and pre-natal yoga.

As of this past summer two different pole dancing fitness programs have set up shop in Whistler. The aforementioned Shannon Forbes runs her Poleworks classes out of Meadow Park Sports Centre and a franchise of the popular Aradia Fitness system, created by Vancouver duo Christine Boyer and Tracy Gray, is offering pole-dance/sensual movement workout sessions out of Soul Funktion Dance Studio in Function Junction, as well as in Squamish.

Hollywood has led the recent strip-for-fitness charge. Actress Sheila Kelley’s "S Factor" stripping and pole dancing workout series of tapes and studio classes, based on training Kelley did for her role as an exotic dancer in the 2000 film Dancing At The Blue Iguana, have made the actress to contemporary strip aerobics what Jane Fonda was to conventional aerobics in the 1980s.

Others besides Kelley have also jumped into the strip aerobics and pole dancing workout pool including model/actress/rock ’n’ roll wife Carmen Electra, who purveys her own series of "aerobic striptease" instructional tapes.

The trend gained steam through exposure on the TV talk show circuit, due to disciples like meteoric TV celebrity actress Teri Hatcher, who has been particularly vocal about her newfound hobby. S Factor, in turn, has been rewarded with an enthusiastic response, notably from the matriarch of the mainstream herself, Oprah Winfrey.

While Forbes operates as an independent, the Aradia story includes the origin of pole dance/strip for fitness in the Lower Mainland. After learning about the workout craze via a segment of Dateline NBC that aired in 2003, founders Boyer and Gray – a pilates instructor and bank manager respectively – went looking for classes approximating the S Factor studio program. When the search proved fruitless they filled the void by creating the Aradia system, developing the series of moves by watching movies, DVDs and real live strip shows. Now run as a franchise operation, Aradia markets its method as well as a line of adjustable poles created out of industry-standard brass (utilized for its ability to absorb moisture and oils from the skin). An Aradia workout wear line is also on its way.

No question about it, Aradia is on top of their game, and is doing so without the benefit of actual firsthand exotic dance experience on the part of the founders. While Boyer and Gray are known to frequent Vancouver strip clubs, taking students on "field trips" to the Cecil, the duo have essentially built an expanding empire of pole dance classes without spending time in the trenches themselves.

The Aradia system in turn has created instructors who teach stripping without ever having been professional exotic dancers. Such is the case with instructor Adrienne Lindsay, franchisee for Whistler and Squamish, although it’s hard to believe watching the slim, 32-year-old blonde’s mastery of the most intricate and difficult pole-related gymnastics.

Lindsay, who has a background in fitness, said the fitness-oriented approach of the Aradia method is the key to the appeal, making it more "accessible." The classes draw women of all body types and professions, from the minimum age of 18 through to middle age, who come to experience Aradia’s slow stretches and poses , dance steps and pole instruction.

In addition to the level-based progression, which encourages high-heeled footwear and peel-able layers in the more advanced stages, Aradia also offers extras like lap-dance workshops.

Preaching the oft-cited doctrine of empowerment, Lindsay says she personally became more confident as she progressed through the Aradia program. "You move more comfortably," she says, adding, "it makes you good in bed."

While Lindsay has never stripped professionally, the admitted exhibitionist claims to have demonstrated her moves at plenty of parties. With a not-so-secret crush on redneck rap-rocker Kid Rock she describes her stripper persona as "the Detroit Diamond" – a white trash cowgal with a wild streak.

"If a doctor said this is bad for your health, I’d still do it because it’s so much fun," she says flashing a Cheshire grin.

Herein lies the interesting duality of the pole dance movement. It is, indeed, all about fun. Classes, for the most part, attempt to distill all that is fun out of the complex and exploitative relationship represented by baring it all for tips from men, blocking the male gaze with a gossamer curtain of girl power.

A former working exotic dancer, Forbes teaches her Poleworks classes from experience, which she will straight up admit was not always favourable. She says she is quick to dispel notions in her students that suggest they would actually like to ply their skills in the real world.

"Stripping sucks," she states, "it’s a type of molestation. The only thing that’s cool about it is the dance.

"I don’t want women to do it for men, I want them to do it for themselves," she emphasizes, adding that her sessions evolve into the development of individual routines, including music choices, outfits and moves, that are celebrated in the class atmosphere.

While the men may not be physically brandishing their fivers for a little attention, they’re certainly there in spirit. Boyfriends for many participants are motivation for learning new moves, justification for rolling around like a sexpot in front of fellow women attired in modest workout wear, hair held back with headbands. Moves are referred to by suggestive monikers such as the "peek-a-boo." And then there’s the lap-dance workshop, which is not quite the strength-builder that its pole cousin can hide behind. This exercise is driven by sex and you must be over 18 to ride.

A cornerstone of pole dance/strip aerobics has been its self-proclaimed distinction from the actual working girls of the strip club scene, even as it appropriates that scene and commodifies its moves, drawing close with one hand, while the other pushes away. Bachelor parties hire strippers; bachelorette parties hire pole dance instructors.

"It’s a representation but it’s a representation from a distance," says Dr. Giselle Baxter, a UBC lecturer in the department of English who studies gender construction issues in regards to literature.

Dr. Baxter describes the current pole dance craze as another example of "the domestication of sex," in an increasingly sexualized culture, a natural progression that can be traced back to the eroticizing of the exercise culture in the 1980s when starlets purveyed workout tapes featuring themselves clad in miniscule low-cut, skin-tight Lycra leotards. While the sentiment lay dormant through the stern, politically correct ’90s, it appears to have reared its sexually charged head once again.

The new pole dance and strip aerobics classes Dr. Baxter deems the daughters of Olivia Newton John’s Let Get Physical.

"There’s a fantasy element associated with (pole dance fitness classes), which probably doesn’t have too much to do with people who actually strip for a living, who actually work as exotic dancers," Dr. Baxter adds. "There’s the separation of the real activity from the appropriated activity."

That separation, she says, is the key to how an activity with undeniably sordid roots can come to be championed on Oprah and adopted by soccer moms.

"I think there is always going to be an area of stripping… that is going to remain in the realm of the taboo," she remarks. "I think people honestly don’t want to think of anybody actually doing this because they need the money. I think what’s being glamourized here is the notion of doing it because you’re a rebel and you’ll do what you want, not because you’re here on phony papers and under constant threat of being deported and this is the only job you can get, or that you’ve run away from home."

While some, like Forbes, have adopted those taboo barriers in order to foster an atmosphere of empowerment independent of the male gaze, the flipside is that those same barriers can end up alienating the community from which the techniques hail.

Vancouver-based exotic dancer Trillium (last name withheld) says she has no problem with women learning how to pole dance and master other tricks of her trade. "I’m a feminist," she states, "I believe in empowering yourself."

However, she hopes that the real working dancers don’t get tossed to the wayside in the interest of protecting the pole dance-for-fitness set from the reality of the stripping world.

"It’s a skill that I’ve worked so hard for and it has cost me so much. It’s hard earned and it should be recognized," Trillium says, relaxing post performance in the industry’s standard skin-tight knit mini-dress. An example, she says, is being shut out of a pole-dancing contest at a nightclub because she was a "professional," and therefore being denied the rare chance to have her formidable skills rewarded in the straight world.

Aside from that, Trillium says she doesn’t see any real threat to her industry from the proliferation of pole dance aerobics. Unlike Forbes, she encourages pole dance aficionados to dip their toes in the pool of live performance.

"I think the classes are popular because a lot of women fantasize about going on stage," she muses. "The thrill of being an exotic dancer is the audience. For all those women who want to try it, I say go for it, ’cause it’s way different doing it in front of people.

"Don’t have any regrets in life," she adds.

Unlike Forbes she has no desire to teach pole dancing when she gives up the stripping game. "When I’m out, I’m out," she says, gliding away to prepare for round two on the catwalk.

• • •

With beginner struggles and novice mistakes still fresh in my mind I am doubly in awe of Trillium’s mastery of movement around the pole, spiraling her body, while gripped precariously by bare legs, smiling seductively from initiation through the intricate dismount.

She’s good – better than I’ll ever be even if I keep going to class for the next 10 years.

Hopefully, she’s having as much fun as those who are attempting her fluid moves in the sanctity of a fitness studio. Working out in the company of women dreaming of impressing their boyfriends, practicing their stripper walk and debating when to start coming to class in high-heeled boots, and whether or not to take the lap dance workshop. Wondering whether today’s the day to try the upside-down spin. Nursing badge-of-honour bruises and pole burn marks. Working hard to get their money’s worth from the class drop-in fee without the issues inherent in having to work hard for the money.

Because pole dancing is definitely not easy.



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