When you think of pole dancing, what comes to mind?
For me, the imagery had always been cinematic. I think of effortless seduction, gravity-defying strength and sensual women with a level of physical confidence that exudes magic. Pole dancers, in my imagination, did not sweat. They glided. They did not wobble. They simply wrapped one impossibly toned limb around a pole and descended from the ceiling looking like they had been personally blessed by Beyoncé.
And, if you know me, you know that—in my best Chaka Khan voice—I like to think of myself as every woman. So when a close friend announced that she had booked a private pole-dancing class for her birthday, I did what any woman with absolutely no pole-dancing experience and an entirely unreasonable amount of confidence would do. I said yes. Immediately.
The pole, I assumed, was about to meet its match.
The Preparation
I began preparing approximately 48 hours before class. I went online expecting to find a few helpful tips: what to wear, whether to bring water, perhaps a YouTube video explaining how not to fall on your head. I dove into the depths of the internet, searching for practical wisdom, expecting to find a few aesthetic tips. Instead, I found myself reading what felt like a survival manual for an elite athletic event. Here are the rules that stood the test of the pole for me, as a beginner along with a few things I had to learn the hard way:
- The first rule that personally offended me was the great lotion ban. I am a moisturising woman. I believe in hydration. I believe that the human body deserves to be soft, glowing and generously coated in whatever luxurious body butter is currently sitting on my dresser. Pole dancing does not care about my skincare routine.In fact, it actively despises it.
I learned that you should avoid oils, lotions and body butter before class because, on a chrome or brass pole, moisturised skin is basically an invitation to slide straight onto the floor. Your skin needs to grip the pole, and apparently my arami oil was going to be my downfall.
- Then came the wardrobe dilemma.Normally, when attending an unfamiliar fitness class, my instinct is to find a cute matching athleisure set that provides maximum support and minimum exposure. Pole dancing has the audacity to demand the opposite. Skin, I learned, is part of the equipment. Bare thighs. Bare arms. Bare legs. Your skin creates the friction you need to grip the pole and support your body weight.
Finding an outfit that struck the delicate balance between “functional athletic wear” and “I look like I’m starring in a music video” was an exercise in cognitive dissonance. I settled on a red fringe playsuit, praying for the best.
- The final step in my preparation was mental. And this one was necessary. The deeper I fell into the internet rabbit hole, the more intimidated I became. I watched women casually spin upside down, climb poles with astonishing ease and perform movements that seemed to require a combination of upper-body strength, ballet training, gymnastics and a complete disregard for gravity.
I had to remind myself that I was attending a beginner class. My goal was not to execute an inverted split on day one, but simply to walk around the pole without tripping over my own feet. I had to pack up my perfectionism and leave it at home.
Welcome to the Pole
Around 7:30 PM our group arrived at the Femme Flow Studio. The aesthetic was immediately welcoming: a cozy space bathed in a soft, reddish-pink glow that made everyone’s skin look airbrushed. There was something sultry about it—the kind of atmosphere that makes you feel cooler and more mysterious simply by standing still. The air smelled faintly of lavender.
There we met Kems, our instructor, whose effortless grace and welcoming warmth immediately put us at ease. Before we began, she asked us to take off our heels, a small but necessary adjustment that made the class feel a little more real. As we gathered around our respective poles, the cold metal felt intimidatingly solid. This was a beginner class, meaning our primary goal was simply to introduce our bodies to the physics of the pole.
It didn’t take long to realize that my expectations of effortless glamour were about to be thoroughly, delightfully humbled. Here are the things that surprised me the most once Ayra Starr’s ‘Gimme Dat’ started playing:
The First Surprise: This Is Actually a Serious Workout
I consider myself relatively fit, but pole dancing activated muscles I didn’t even know existed. Trying to execute a slow, sensual strut with one hand on the pole while engaging your core, keeping your shoulders down, and attempting a coordinated hip roll is a masterclass in physical multitasking. Your forearms burn from gripping, your obliques ache from stabilizing, and your calves are constantly flexed.
There is an enormous difference between watching someone perform a graceful spin and trying to reproduce it yourself. On screen, it looks effortless. In real life, your forearms are burning because you are gripping the pole for dear life. Your core is working overtime to stabilise your body. Your shoulders are engaged. Your legs are constantly doing something. Your calves are flexed. Your brain is trying to remember the sequence while another part of your brain is screaming, Please don’t fall. Even the seemingly simple movements require coordination.
Kems would demonstrate something, and I would watch thinking, Yes. Absolutely. I understand. Then it would be my turn. My body would respond with, We have never discussed this.
One of my favourite moments was attempting to combine movement, music and sensuality while simultaneously remembering what my arms and legs were supposed to be doing. There is something uniquely humbling about trying to look seductive while your internal monologue is screaming, LEFT LEG. LEFT LEG. WHY IS YOUR LEFT LEG THERE?
But here’s the magic: at no point did it feel like a chore. Unlike the monotonous thump of a treadmill or a repetitive gym session, this was dynamic and engaging. I left the studio with the exact same flushed, endorphin-heavy glow I get after an intense HIIT session, but without any of the mental fatigue.
Disclaimer: My body, however, had its own review to give. My inner thighs were sore for days afterwards, thanks to all the gripping and clinging required to spin around the pole.
The Second Surprise: The Mirror Is Your Friend, Not Your Judge
Usually, during standard workout classes, you look in the mirror to correct your form or, sometimes, to criticize your posture or body. In Kems’s pole dancing class, the mirror served a completely different purpose. We were encouraged to look at ourselves not to spot flaws, but to connect with our movement.
After practicing the basic moves, Kems asked us to put them together for a short, continuous routine. Feeling a wave of self-consciousness as I stood before my reflection, I asked her if she had one golden rule for performing the sequence.
She looked at me, smiled, and said, “Look at yourself in the mirror and dance like you are trying to seduce yourself.”
That shift in perspective changed everything. Up until that moment, I realized I had been dancing for an imaginary audience, trying to make sure I looked “right” or “sexy” by someone else’s standards. Kems’s advice redirected my focus inward. I stopped worrying about whether my spin was technically perfect or if my leg was at the perfect angle. I leaned into how the movement felt. I tapped into a sense of personal power that had nothing to do with external validation and everything to do with inhabiting my own body.
The Third Surprise: The Shared Energy of the Room
Perhaps the most beautiful surprise of the night was the lack of competition. In a room full of women trying something new, awkward, and highly revealing, there was no judgment. The energy was electric. When someone successfully completed a spin, the room erupted in cheers. When someone slipped or lost their footing, we laughed it off together.
There was something beautiful about watching women become less self-conscious as the class progressed. At the beginning, everyone was careful. By the end, people were laughing loudly, throwing their hair around and attempting moves with the confidence of women who had collectively decided that embarrassment was no longer an option. For a few hours, nobody was worried about whether she was being perceived correctly. We were just moving.
What Pole Dancing Reminded Me About Being A Woman
I went into the class thinking pole dancing was primarily about sexiness. I left thinking it was much more about strength. Not just physical strength, although there is plenty of that. There is strength in holding your body up. There is strength in trusting your grip. There is strength in falling, laughing and trying again.
But there is also something powerful about being deliberately sensual without needing anyone else to validate it. Women are constantly negotiating how we occupy space. Too loud. Too quiet. Too sexy. Not sexy enough. Too confident. Too intimidating. Too covered. Too exposed. Even our bodies sometimes feel like public property, open to commentary, comparison and judgement.
Pole dancing offered me a different relationship with my body. For once, my body wasn’t something I was trying to improve for somebody else. It was an instrument. It could lift me. It could spin. It could balance. It could learn. It could be strong and sensual at the same time. And perhaps most importantly, it could be imperfect. I could wobble and still look good. I could miss a step and keep dancing. I could laugh at myself without feeling embarrassed. That, more than any particular move, felt like the real lesson.
My Verdict
So, would I recommend pole dancing? Absolutely. Pole dancing forces you to confront your inner goddess. I walked into that studio expecting a cheeky birthday activity. I thought I was going to learn a few sexy moves, take some pictures, laugh with my friends and go home. Instead, I discovered a workout disguised as a dance class, a lesson in body confidence disguised as entertainment and, unexpectedly, a little reminder about what it means to feel at home in your skin.
