Spinning While Sapphic: The Pole Project

Content Warning: mentions of sexual violence, racism, fatphobia, (none described in detail), use of a homophobic slur

An integral part of this overarching project has been researching the evolution of exotic dance/stripping/pole, from a historical perspective to better contextualize my current experience with pole. Judith Lynne Hanna's Dance and Sexuality: Many Moves (2010) has been quite the extensive resource. Notably, Hanna's definitions and identifiers of are extremely fluid. Her collection of the industry illustrates the shape-changing nature of exotic dance collectively, as the form morphed to survive the rapidly-changing entertainment landscape. Hanna writes,

"Times change: Burlesque, the forerunner of contemporary exotic dance, was popular from he 1920's to 29150's, then came a slump with the advent of television and has-been strippers performed in strip joints known as varicose alley. Carnival stripping in the 1970's was abusive and degrading for dancers [...] However, the 1980's heralded a revival, rather a reformation, with the advent of the "upscale gentleman's club." (2010, 229-230).

Hanna then goes on to describe the Western styles of modern exotic dance; where "beauty and sexuality are important currency in exotic dancer's work." (2010, 230). A concurring theme throughout Hanna's work is the role of physicality Although the discourse surrounding exotic dance often revolves around "the question of empowerment versus exploitation" (Hanna 2010, 232), the insistence of presence, of being remains constant. One cannot dance (or) strip without making their body a point of focus, which is why so many conventions around the art form rely on exaggerating movement.

While this issue very clearly presents exotic work as anything but homogenous, there are once again so many threads where I find personal similarities or connections. For example, the use of the iconic "six-to eight-inch heels" (2010, 230) serve to elongate legs and enhance height (thus commanding attention through physicality.) My own heels are seven inches while others in my pole studio prefer to use ten-inch boots and stilettos. Buying my first pair was exciting, and slightly terrifying to learn how to walk in. There is a specific ankle and calf strength required to maintain balance on the toe box platform because most forms of exotic dance do not allow the literal heel of the shoe to touch the floor. Simply put, you must tiptoe on the platform when moving around the pole!

Additionally, Hanna's collection of discourse around the in-community nuances reminded me of my own understandings of exotic dance. In her research, Hanna remarks on the relationship between the labels of exotic dance and sex work; "most dancers do not like to be on the continuum from prostitute [...] "Dancer" and "entertainer" are common self-identifiers." (2010, 231). Importantly, Hanna is not denying the validity of sex work within the realm of exotic dance. She is instead documenting the language and culture in which these coexist. To an extent, I understand these connections. I do not identify as a stripper or a professional dancer, though I completely understand and recognize that dancers/strippers created the pole I practice today. There are legitimate questions of what is and isn't recognized as exotic dance because of the societal taboos around such work, of course. But for my personal understanding, I think of the exotic dance and pole I do as a sport. A sport with an underrepresented history, and that echoes queerness in its discursive nature.

Until 2006, the arrests made during Operation Soap made it the largest mass-arrest in Canadian history. 286 people where charged under “bawdy-house” law and 20 more through managerial status.

Source: Gerald Hamon. “Taking it to the Streets” The Body Politic: Rage! Volume 71. (1981, March.) https://arquives.ca/press-room/operation-soap

As part of my project, I've been reading up and revisiting a lot of really important queer sex culture and queer night life, as that is where focus with this archival aspects come into focus. Inevitably, this has taken me into bathhouse territory, (see my previous post for some of my first thoughts on that) namely Operation Soap in Toronto. While those specific raids concerned queer men and gay/mlm bathhouses, an extremely similar raid happened less than twenty years later. Given my focus on sapphic community, I immediately wanted to learn more about The Pussy Palace.

Enter the Toronto Women's Bathhouse, "affectionately known among queer women in Toronto as the Pussy Palace" (Gallant & Gillis 2001, 152). Pussies Bite Back: The Story of the Women's Bathhouse Raid details the experiences of queer Torontonians in 2000, amidst the post-raid chaos.

To begin their article, Gallant and Gillis remark on the role of the bathhouse, "Whether or not women attended the Pussy Palace, it existed as an option, as a possibility, as a problem for how women think of themselves as sexual beings." (2001, 153). Within the article, the authors note the inclusive nature of the space as trans men, women and "trans folk" (2001, 155) are welcome clientele. (I was ecstatic to learn this, and therefore even more disappointed in the current state of Goliaths.) Similarly to Goliaths, and bathhouses generally, the Pussy Palace is home to regular rooms, porn rooms, showers, a pool and sauna, etc. The detail that caught my particular eye was the inclusion of exotic dancers and spaces for exotic dancing.

Author Chanelle Gallant wrote about her own perspective in a way that deeply resonated with me; "I lap danced at first bathhouse [...] I walked away [...] newly aware of my femme power." (2001, 156). Exotic dance is not my strong suit, but I recognize the feeling Gallant described. Experimenting with your body, with what feels fun and good and powerful, is especially important as a queer person. The presence of sexuality and/or sensuality really doesn't matter. The point lies in the ability to do so; to exist openly and without shame or fear for ones' body or desire. It's very healing to dance with yourself and as yourself, in my own experience.

That autonomy, created through visibility is what made the Pussy Palace so important. Of course, this is also what made the raid heartbreaking; "The police raid on the Pussy Palace adds another layer to how we think about ourselves as sexual beings-- our public expressions of sexual desire have been witnessed, monitored and documented by the state." (Gallant & Gillis 2001, 154). The voyeuristic threat the authors point to here make me think of what I'm doing, in the immediate sense. Recording myself, my body and displaying my thoughts for the public to see and ingest? My experiences with the online pole community has been lovely across multiple platforms, but I know that is not true for everyone. In striving to create space for myself, and for those like me, I leave a (hypothetically) damning paper trail. And yet, I intend to continue. I love to dance, after all.

(the explicit is a pun! cuz sex! tee hee. ik its dumb.)

Goliath's is the only Bathhouse located in all of the city of Calgary! It's been there since 1987, and has been "serving the gay community for over 30 years." The bathhouse has been looped into conversations of The Toronto Bathhouse Raids/Operation Soap, and as a queer Albertan I think it's important to look for the kinda queer culture I'm researching in my own home city.

Despite being a mlm-focused space, I personally think Goliath's also connects to the theme of binary representation in queer bathhouses, bars, exotic dancing and sex work. For example, currently, Goliath's policy on allowing Transmen and women (note, no mention of nonbianry folks...) is " all members [...] must have M or X under gender on your identification and we ask that you be Masc presenting when you check in."

Obviously, this limits trans and genderqueer clientele significantly. Alberta has never been the most inviting to trans and queer people, at least not in my experience or the experience of people around me. However, the recent rise in transphobic legislation that aims to prevent people from gender-affirming care (medical, legal, social) makes policies like this even more exclusive. It speaks to a pervasive cisheteronormativity within gay nightlife that erases the most important aspects of queer desire, to me; that everyone can be a part of it.

The history of queer spaces, rights and liberation is rampant with trans-exclusionary discourse, unfortunately. Though I will be focusing on sapphic/ wlw experiences moving forward, I wanted to highlight the still present discrimination of trans and genderqueer people. Trans women and people are obviously a part of the sapphic and wlw communities; Goliath's in particular was just a directly relevant and personable example of dichotomous narratives in queer spaces.