Pole Dancing with Gender Dysphoria
If you follow me on Instagram, it’s no secret that I am an avid pole dancer. However, it was only recently that I shared my experience of being genderqueer or nonbinary with my followers. For many, including myself, my identity as genderqueer snuck up on me, and it was the point of realization that flipped everything that I thought I had previously understood about myself on its head with one of those being my love and enthusiasm for pole.
Discovering that I no longer felt comfortable identifying as a woman, girl, or otherwise female being, as this society defines these, I began the process of uncovering the ways in which I felt most myself, which involved a slow but gradual transition from traditionally feminine/female ways of presenting and expressing myself to ones that I perceived to be more gender-neutral. This shift manifested itself in the forms of wearing my hair in a side part to reveal my side shave as opposed to a simple middle part, preferring looser fitting clothing over more form-fitting ones, purchasing a chest binder, and adding they/them pronouns to the she/her ones that I had been using before, to the eventual full adoption of the former set.
One of the largest reasons behind the gender-affirming changes that I began making for myself was — and currently remains — my experiences with gender dysphoria.
Gender dysphoria is currently recognized in the 5th edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-5) as the potential distress a person feels due to the mismatch or incongruence between their gender identity and their sex assigned at birth. As a result of this conflict, many transgender individuals experience a great deal of clinically significant discomfort, which can not only interfere with their day to day functioning, but also places them at a higher risk for developing gender identity-related depression, anxiety, and thoughts of suicide than their cisgender counterparts.
Now, while many may have heard of this term in regards to transgender binary men and women very little is known or understood about its relation to genderqueer and gender nonbinary individuals. As a matter of fact, whether nonbinary individuals are even considered to be transgender is still a point of contention within the transgender community with the base argument of gatekeepers being that nonbinary individuals “do not transition in the same manner that a transgender binary man or woman would.” Additionally, because of how different gender dysphoria presents itself within nonbinary individuals and those who are transgender binary, many people struggle to identify and recognize it as a potentially genderqueer experience.
But I, along with many others, can assure you that gender dysphoria can be very real for those who do not identify as cisgender but are not transgender binary.
In my personal experience, being assigned female at birth, my gender dysphoria presents itself whenever I am confronted with social situations, activities, clothing, and language that are gendered to communicate woman or girl. Having a part of myself desire to be viewed as neither female nor male juxtaposed with society’s overall inability to recognize identities outside of the gender-binary makes it extremely difficult to navigate the world without activating my gender dysphoria. Additionally, gender dysphoria has made the way that I perceive my body much more difficult than when I thought I was cisgender as there is now an extra layer of dissatisfaction that is rooted in a discomfort with both my primary and secondary sex characteristics, which, for the most part, are omnipresent and unavoidable.
Both of these, as you can probably imagine, can make something like pole a very risky sport to pursue for someone whose gender dysphoria pushes them away from socially and biologically feminine or female features.
For me, the most problematic aspect of pole is the fact that most studios, as well as the mainstream pole community, are very women-centric.
While I find no problem with teaching and encouraging women to be strong, sexy, and confident in themselves through exotic dance movement and the donning of lingerie and 7-inch platform heels, most times the messages that these studios preach fail to apply to me as I do not consider myself to be a woman, which most often results in feeling both alienated and misplaced in a space that is designed to be welcoming and empowering. Furthermore, the lack of gender diversity means that it is a constant struggle for me to feel truly comfortable in a class where no one else looks or moves the way that I do.
Additionally, days where I feel especially dysphoric have made it increasingly difficult for me to be comfortable in my own body without clothes on as I am bombarded with the image of my female-presenting body. I’ve had days where I’ve entered the studio, taken off my clothes, only to grab my hoodie and put it back on and others where I didn’t even do pole because I couldn’t stand looking at myself in the mirror. On those particularly rough days, I just had to sit on the floor in the waiting room and cry hoping that the music in the studio was loud enough to mask my sniffling.
Unlike most genderqueer pole dancers that I have met, who have picked up pole after coming to terms with their gender identity, I did the reverse and picked up pole way before I had any idea that I was genderqueer in the slightest. As a result, it has been more of a relearning process on how to regain my confidence and become comfortable doing pole again than a debate as to whether or not I should give it a try.
The biggest challenge for me has been using my pre-coming out history with pole––where I was comfortable and confident being in a space geared towards women wearing nothing but a bra and underwear––as a point of comparison for the present, post-coming out portion of my life. There are times where I tell myself that there is no reason I shouldn’t be able to do pole comfortably now because I was able to do it before with little to no issues. In other words, the good old “if I’ve done it before, I can do it again” mentality. While this can be a potentially motivating mindset to adopt, for me it’s only been one of toxicity and self-criticism.
Relearning how to pole dance as a genderqueer person and how to manage gender dysphoria when it comes up has been a long process of being patient with myself and my gender boundaries, unlearning deep-seated gender conventions, finding and connecting with other nonbinary and genderqueer pole dancers, and constantly reminding myself that participating in activities or wearing clothes that are typically connoted with women does not make me any less genderqueer.
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If you are one of my gender nonbinary followers who is finding themselves interested in trying pole, but afraid of the potential gender dysphoria that may arise here are my words of advice:
- All bodies are pole bodies.
— Male bodies can do pole.
— Female bodies can do pole.
— Intersex bodies can do pole
— Cisgender bodies can do pole.
— Transgender bodies can do pole.
— Nonbinary bodies can do pole.
If you can move, you can do pole. Your physical ability to do pole has absolutely nothing to do with the way that your body looks.
- Pole is becoming more gender-inclusive as many cismen and transwomen are making efforts toward increased gender inclusion. If you are worried about a particular studio being gendered, take a peek at their website or social media account. What terminology do they use? Do they seem aware and welcoming of all bodies and genders?
- If you are worried about the pole “uniform” for times of dysphoria, rest assured that you can do pole barefoot. You don’t have to wear platform shoes. Likewise, you can absolutely do pole in a long sleeve hoodie, and they manufacture legging type pants that have grip so you don’t have to be stuck on the floor if you opt to wear pants instead of shorts or underwear.
- If you are uncertain about moving in such a feminine way, there are different types of pole. Not all pole is exotic dance. There is sport pole that focuses more on strength that allows you to perform a variety of tricks, drops, and grips. There is also artistic pole which I would liken to contemporary dance that focuses more on flexibility and slow, graceful movements that only incorporate the pole as an extension of the body.
- Think about pole as more of a means for connecting you to your feminine energy rather than view it as something that is gendered or as “something that women do.” Some of the best pole sessions I’ve had happen when I’m feeling gender euphoric and fully embrace my feminine side. Pole is one of the best ways to connect and feel in tune with your body and your femininity.
And lastly,
- Be patient with yourself. Take the time to learn your gender boundaries. If you try pole and realize it isn’t for you that is completely ok. Not liking pole is not a reflection of your strength or ability to combat gender dysphoria. All it means is that pole isn’t for you.
- Don’t be afraid of your body. The way that you look, the way that you move, the clothes that you wear, and the activities that you enjoy don’t make you any less genderqueer. Being wholly yourself is the only thing that defines your queerness, and that’s what makes you so magnificently you.
