An Ode to Our Black Pole Mama's
This piece is an ode to our Black Pole Mamas and Aunties. You know who you are. You are the studio owners that affirm our bodies. You are Black Girls Pole Ambassadors. You are the ones representing our Black Girl Magic on Instagram to thousands of followers. You are the ones showcasing us in your shows. You are the ones that have created space for Black pole dancers who are exhausted of hoping to be included in spaces that fail to understand that “inclusivity” requires an intentionality to resist anti-Blackness.
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Pole Mamas, here’s four reasons why
We love and support you:
You see us.
I took for granted and assumed that what I learned culturally growing up was common practice nearly everywhere—that one acknowledges another person’s presence by greeting them upon entering the space. It is a sign of respect. It is proof that you are seen. This sounds like a basic idea, but I have trained in some studios where it is not in the culture to greet another person. I have witnessed some instructors fail to provide feedback and guidance to Black pole dancers in class while spotting and giving attention to other dancers. And in the most egregious cases, some Black pole dancers have reported feeling like an annoyance for asking a question in class. I am fortunate to have access to three Black-owned studios here in Chicago. In my experience of each studio, there was an aspect of the class dedicated to making sure everyone in the space at least knew one another’s name if not more. These Black Pole Mamas make us feel seen. When one chooses to ignore Black people, it is an example of anti-Blackness regardless of the intention. It is necessary that instructors be mindful of what it means to not see your Black pole sisters regardless of intention. If you claim inclusivity, this is basic. Aside from learning how to #pdayesha and seduce a whole audience, it maybe beneficial to have a conversation with our Black studio owners of how they affirm Black bodies. For our Black Pole Mamas, it is not just for business that you see us. We know our value goes beyond the dollar to you and we love you for that.
You know Black people are not automatically suspect, problematic or disposable.
We all have encountered many of the problematic stereotypes of Black people in our world. Our bodies are degraded and exoticized, while appropriators mimic our styles and benefit from our magic. Our Black Pole Mamas know our worth and give us the benefit of the doubt because on a deep level they know we are not automatically suspect, but for others, they might have to work really hard to resist the assumption. This very point is the one that inspired me to write this ode to appreciate what our Black Pole Mamas mean to us. I call it my “purple scarf” epiphany. In a white owned studio where I had been a member for over a year, I forgot my purple scarf after a class one day. When I went back to the studio to look in lost and found, it was nowhere to be found. An instructor there was rudely dismissive when I visited the studio to inquire about my purple scarf. Although, I had supported this instructor’s class for months, she treated me as if I should not have been in the studio that day. In an annoyed fit, she described my behavior to the owner who was away from the studio at the time, in such a way that the owner stormed into the studio and dumped the contents of the lost and found she had tucked in a space at my feet and tersely said, “Your belongings are not my responsibility” as I picked my scarf off of the floor. I was stunned and asked the owner not to treat me so disrespectfully, which she thought was acceptable because, “I was not to tell her what to do in her studio.” Without question, the owner had accepted the teacher’s characterization of my behavior—demanding and unreasonable. Because I would have been an investigative journalist if not a pole dancer, I purposely left the same purple scarf at a Black owned studio to see how they might handle the same situation. The difference was stark. This studio owner responded to my first email the same night. I did not have to send two emails, wait a week, encounter any dismissive teachers, or have to endure the disrespect of a studio owner that made so many negative assumptions of me without even asking a question. The Black owner told me she understood what the scarf might mean during a Chicago winter and put it aside for me. She saw me and valued me as a human. I am a new pole dancer. I am not like our Pole Mamas who come to teach workshops at studios. I am not able to yet make a studios brand look good with my skills. I only pay money faithfully, but so do many others. I learned that sometimes there is an expensive hidden cost of training in a studio that is not intentional in addressing anti-Blackness. I am so lucky to have found other studio options in my city that are interested in being a space where Black people are affirmed. For that I am deeply indebted to you all, my Black Pole Mamas and Aunties.
Our magic increases your magic. We mutually love and support one another.
You hire Black pole dancers to work in your studios. You feature Black pole dancers and their businesses on your websites. You make Black pole dancers with Afros your logo for a your pole dance clothing line. You offer to share a pole with a sister when you see no one else will. You listen to us vent when we have a “purple scarf” incident. You ask us for what we need. You listen to us when we speak. You help us thrive. We work together to affirm ourselves. We see ourselves in you. We choose to train under you. We drive the extra distance and pay the extra money to support you because we know it costs you more to have a business. It costs us more emotionally to be in a space where anti-Blackness is ignored but “inclusivity” is marketed. Our mutual support of one another makes us all stronger.
You know that confronting anti-Black racism and “inclusivity” is much more than a brand.
Pole dancing has saved some of our lives. You understand that anti-Blackness has cost so many their lives and that resisting it is much more urgent than a brand. I have learned that pole community is so much more than finding who can teach us tricks and low flow at the best price, but who will actually love, trust, value and uplift us. I had often wondered if the white studio owner from the “purple scarf incident” noticed like I did that new Black students would come for a short period and decide on a different studio? Did she notice that a seemingly disproportionate number of people overall that left her studio were Black people? Why are there no Black instructors? Why do many Black people experience the studio as cliquish and other dancers at the studio have a completely different experience as them? We have options in Chicago and for those of us in cities that are not as lucky to have affirming spaces for Black pole dancers, we have online spaces and retreats thanks to BGP. We have home poles and Instagram videos or online classes. I’m done with begging for inclusivity and spending money on people who show they don’t care about Black people unless they can profit from them. I can’t check my Blackness at the door before pole class. And I vow to support our Black Pole Mamas because they welcome us because we are Black pole dancers—not in spite of it.
From a Black pole baby, this ode to you is a reminder that we are all we need, and all to often, we are all that we have.