Category Archives: Uncategorized

FLOORSOME – Why Floorwork is Awesome

  By bexackland@ntlworld.com • November 20, 2020

We love pole. Fact. We are pole dancers so it kinda goes with the territory. But there is so much more to “Pole Dancing” than just – well – dancing with a pole. The pole is just the 45mm bit in the middle. But look at all that space around it! All that room to move, and flow, to express a million different emotions in a million different ways. Pole tricks are awesome, but do you know what else is awesome? Floorwork. Floorwork is awesome. It’s…. (drumroll please…) FLOORSOME. Here’s why:

You can do it in clothes

For people who are used to working out in booty shorts and crop tops, it can be a real treat not to have to undress to work out. Not because we don’t love being semi naked (haha. We so totally do) but because sometimes it’s bloody freezing, or we just aren’t feeling it. It makes a nice change to be able to wear clothes.

And not only clothes, but super cool clothes. You can pretend you are in Fame, or that bit in Black Swan where they are all cool and edgy in leg warmers and big slouchy tops and infinity scarves.

And then, when you get a bit hot from all the floorf**kery, you can abandon the homeless look and wear seriously hot sexy gear made from little more than straps of elastic and knee pads and electrical tape, rocking what my friend Sarah likes to call the Combat Slut look.

Ms Blackmilk rocks the Combat Slut (TM) look

You don’t have to worry about grip 

The atmosphere at competitions such as Dance Filthy is fantastically relaxed – and I’m sure part of this is the absence of fear about pole grip. You aren’t constantly worrying about sweaty hands, slippy leg grips or covering your body in your own unique cocktail which mixes the exact correct proportions of chalk, dry hands, mighty grip and dew point for your skin. Floorwork requires no handgrip, and you can sweat away like the sparkly unicorn you are.

You can also cover yourself in body glitter or paint on stage (or at home, you be you) and not worry about compromising your pole grip.

And of course, you can use moisturiser, which all polers know is basically like Christmas.

You get to do hairography 

As a pole dancer I have come to terms with the fact that I am never going to look well groomed. No matter how much time I spend making my hair all smooth and glossy I’m pretty soon going to be ruining it by hanging upside down and sweating. But floorwork demands messy hair! Hair flicks, flips, swishes, swinging ponytails galore (I used to have a short bob, and my hair flicks made me look like Sonic the Hedgehog).

Also there’s less danger involved in hairography on the floor than there is on the pole. Your hair won’t get in the way of your grip, and you won’t look like the girl in The Ring when you are upside down – though you may when you are cat crawling your way towards your victim, but this you can style out in a sultry manner. Let’s face it, all the best things in life mess up your hair. You know exactly what I’m talking about.

All the best things mess up your hair

It’s an all-round workout

Incorporating cardio, flexibility, stamina, plus of course a mental workout (which direction do I need to face to land in a machine gun split?) and a creative, expressive workout (how do I convey the story of my epic search for a parking space today to the music of Massive Attack?), floorwork covers all aspects of fitness.

Get your heart rate up, get sweaty, get super fit, get strong, and work on your all round flexibility and muscular endurance, all without actually having to stand up. This is my kind of exercise.

There’s less chance of dying 

Let’s not pretend romancing the floor is without risks – bashed up knees, friction burns, that bit on the top of your shoulders getting all bruised and knarly, kicked in the face with your own heels, catching your body piercings in your hair flips, potential whiplash… and you might still be overcome with fear when learning fish flops, heel kips or any number of crazy insane heel bangin’ hip poppin’ combos. Still, despite all these lovely attributes, there’s still less risk of dying (just).

It’s less likely you will employ the old “just stand there so I don’t die” line when learning floor work. You won’t plummet to the floor from an aerial Marion Amber when you’re a floor dweller, or risk relocating your collar bone with a fonji. It’s only bruising your spine, bashing into the pole head first,  and burning the tops of your feet ( and everywhere else) you have to worry about now. Great!

Me when someone demos a new pole move

Flow, flow flow…

Freestyling on the pole often demands certain movement – you need to get here, to do this move, and you need this hand here and this contact point here. Floor freestyling allows movement to flow, and let’s face it one thing we all want is more flow. Let the music take you where you want to be.

You can pretend you are in a rock video 

You can romance the floor to any music – from blues to trance to hardcore dubstep. But everyone (by which I mean, me) knows rock music is the best – the devil has all the best tunes after all. And rock music and floorwork go hand in hand. Put on the greatest tunes the devil has to offer, get down on the floor, and get turned up to 11 (this advice is also good when having a shower).

Get to embrace your inner (or outer) stripper 

Enough with the “actually, pole came from mallakham/chinese/Indian culture, and actually it was originally done by men”

No, it didn’t. It came from strip clubs and strippers and that’s a fact. You don’t have try to make it socially acceptable by attributing it to men or whatever Asian/eastern/ancient culture you can think of this week.  Respect where pole came from, embrace it and don’t try to hide it. I’m not going to labour this point as there are people out there who have already said it all, a lot better than I can, but just once more for the people at the back: Pole has it roots in the strip clubs, and rather than move the goalposts of pole (goalpoles?) to make society accept it, hold the goalpoles firm and make society change its attitudes instead. Get down on the floor and embrace your hair flickin’, heel bangin’, hip thrustin’, body wavin’ vagina monsterin’ bad self that you are, shamelessly, with love, and with pride.

BEXIITA

Is it wrong that I don’t want to fonji?

  By bexackland@ntlworld.com • November 20, 2020

For a while now, I have been feeling under pressure to practice and nail the fonji. 

The wonderful thing about social media is that it allows us to share new moves and progress at the touch of a button. We see a new move in the evening, immediately plan to try it out the next morning, perfect it in the afternoon and post our own photo that night. 

This leads to a steady ripple as the move sweeps across the pole world, spreading wider and wider as everyone aims to nail the Move Of The Moment.

Move Of The Moment:Shimmy’s seahorse

For me in the past year or so, the Move Of The Moment was first Janeiro, then it was side superman, moving on to titanic, then Shimmy’s seahorse, before Anastasia and her superman/titanic variations, and finally stopping off most recently at the sailboat. 

But nestling in amongst all these amazing and creative and challenging moves has been the fonji. Not strictly a “new” move, but one that seems increasingly prevalent. One that seems to be popping up at every masterclass and private lesson with the pole elite. One that is proudly perfected and videoed and uploaded with increasing regularity. 

And while all the above Moves Of The Moment have set my pole blood on fire and made my heart sing and my hamstrings twinge and made me want to rush out immediately and try it RIGHT NOW, something about fonji just makes me think: no thanks. I don’t want to learn to fonji. Is that wrong?

This is nothing 

compared to what goes on in my studio 

when someone nails a move

Don’t get me wrong. I am in no way pissing on the bonfire of those who have worked incredibly hard to achieve it. I train with friends who I admire hugely for their dedication to Mr Fonji and his shoulder crushing demands. I know that euphoric feeling of finally nailing a nemesis move, especially one that is clearly so super advanced, and the pride that can accompany the knowledge that you have had to dig so deep into the well of your abilities to get there. And I’m not trying to say I’m not impressed by it: I’m hugely impressed. And I’m chuffed to bits for my pole sisters and brothers when they crack it. I get inordinate amounts of excitement from seeing what this wonderful community can do. But something about this move is not for me.

Now I know what you’re saying. You’re saying I don’t want to fonji because I can’t. Because its too difficult for me. Because its too challenging and I don’t want to put in the time and effort, or deal with the pain, both physical and mental. Because I’m jealous.

Pole Vs Leg

I can assure you this is not the case. Those I have trained with can regale you with tales of moves it has taken me a year or even more to achieve, and the stupid injuries I have sustained along the way, the three months I had to teach on crutches and wearing a cast, not to mention the ridiculous noises and imaginative swear word combos I have created. I’m not scared of a bit of pain, and anyway since when did polers start assessing pole move desireability on just how much self torture one person can take? I know we can be a masochistic lot but does Pain Inflicted Upon Oneself + Distress Caused = Ultimate Success? 

When did pole turn into a competition where you are supposed to take on moves you don’t like and won’t enjoy learning because you have a voice in your head saying “you should be able to do everything! Everyone else is learning it! If you can’t do it you are a failure! If you were any kind of decent person you would learn it and push yourself, I don’t care if you have other moves to perfect and a million other things to be working on, do THIS, or somebody somewhere will say “well, she can’t even fonji”, and in those lame supposedly inspirational quote things, aren’t they always telling you that the thing you really, really need to do is actually the thing you don’t want to do?”

Frankly, that voice needs to get lost.

Fonji is not my style. I don’t mean that in a glib way, the way people say “public transport is not my style, darling”. I mean its not my dance style, my pole style. We all have our own thing, that’s what makes our sport so fascinating and beautiful and varied and inspirational. I see a move and think: yes, that’s for me. I’ll work my arse off and I’ll get it. I haven’t been beaten yet – and out of the moves I still can’t do, I’m still not beaten. I’ll keep going, and I know I’ll get it. There are many moves I can work on and push myself to do, and that I will achieve and make my own. Why should I feel pressure to do something else?

Who knows, maybe one day I’ll decide to give it a go, and I’ll love it, I’ll find a way to make it work with my style and and I’ll be writing an inspirational blog about how wrong I was, possibly entitled Just Call Me Little Miss Fonjipants.

I fell in love with pole for many reasons. One of those reasons was that it enabled me to push myself and challenge myself – to push MYSELF, not to push others and not to be pushed by others. This is my sport. This is my pole. This is my journey.

Pole isn’t Pokemon. You haven’t gotta catch ’em all. 

BEXIITA

Pole-ifornia Dreaming

  By bexackland@ntlworld.com • November 20, 2020

I had a dream this week I could curl my leg over the back of my head and touch my toe to my nose. Both legs, in fact. I have this dream a lot.

I sometimes have recurring dreams about French A level exams, Tower Bridge and my teeth falling out, but by far the most common is the toes-to-nose one. In these dreams, such contortion is easy. I’m just hanging out, noodling around and whoop! Leg over head. Feet on back of skull. Toes on eyebrows. Toes on nose. Sometimes, toes on chin. (It’s much less gross in my dreams than it looks written down)

In reality, I am nowhere near being able to do this. My flexibility is pretty good all round, but my spine is as stiff as a board. I would so dearly love to be able to do rainbow marchenko, or needle scale, or eagle, or a chest stand, or a cocoon, or even just to bend my back leg in splits and get it somewhere near my head. If you can do any of these moves, I am supremely envious of you.

One of these is me. 

One of these is my student Laura

When I wake from these dreams it’s so crushing. I mean I know there are worse things going on in the world, and it’s churlish to wake up in the morning to what is essentially a life full of things we all take for granted, but which many people on this planet go without on a daily basis, moaning about a stiff spine, but for that split second it’s so disheartening.

It’s happened so often that in the latest dream, I was actually saying to myself: “Now, this isn’t another dream is it? You’re not about to get all excited about this and wake up to find it never happened?” And I was answering myself: “No! No this time it’s real! I’m definitely awake and this is definitely happening! AND check out my oversplit! IN YOUR FACE pole dreams and non-bendy back!”

As you can imagine, waking up from that one was great fun.

Recently I enjoyed a fantastic night out in a strip club with my adorable and charming friend who works there. We hung out, chatted about all things pole, had some drinks, exchanged anecdotes (hers were mostly about the clientele, mine were mostly about shoulder mounting bruises that look like love bites) and watched the pole dancers. I admired her customised Pleasers and she laughed at the holes in my socks when I stole her shoes from her for as long as I could get away with it.

Student pole dreams…

That night I had a dream we were dancing together on the pole. We were pulling off doubles moves the likes had never been seen before. I was at the top of the pole, and for some reason I never had to come down. I was staying up there like a flag rippling in the wind. My friend was underneath, being amazing and glorious and we were creating awesome art. Obviously the force of gravity had been kicked out and sent home in disgrace for ruining pole dance tricks everywhere, and of course the entire atmosphere had been transformed into a massive wind machine, with just enough force to ripple through our costumes (which were naturally fabulous and flattering but in no way got in the way of our tricks) and blow wind through our hair, but did not in any way make the pole cold and slippy. We could also go into slow motion mode.

Ron’s got his own pole thing going on

At one point, we looped silken lassos around the pole, enabling us to perform tricks fifteen feet out from the pole in mid air. We swooped and looped and tumbled through the air like fairies. It was like that bit at the end of the Harry Potter ride at Universal Studios where you glide in on your broomstick and everyone’s cheering.

We were an unstoppable force of pole dynamism, working in perfect unison, burning a new horizon through the landscapes of choreography and expression and art and beauty. At the end of it all, she gave me her shoes.

When I woke up to discover a wet weekend in Weymouth Harbour, I was most disappointed.

I don’t think I’ve met a poler yet who doesn’t have pole dreams. Just our overloaded subconscious trying to get rid of some junk? Taunting us with what we cannot do? Or are they trying to help us in some way? Are they trying to tell us not to give up? 

I remember having such dreams when I was learning superman. It took me a long, long time to superman, partly because as we all know it hurts, and largely because I had no idea how to do it and was trying to work it out myself with a bit of help from good ol’ YouTube. In my dreams, it was the easiest thing in the world, and I remember being heartbroken when I woke, and wishing so much that that’s how it felt in real life. Of course, a while down the line, and that really is how it felt, and I had nailed superman in 12 different ways. So maybe I should pay attention to my toes-to-nose dreams. Maybe it’s telling me to keep working on it. Maybe it’s possible for me and one day it will be a reality. Who knows? In pole, anything is possible.

BEXIITA

The Power of Pole Jams

  By bexackland@ntlworld.com • November 20, 2020

This week, I have trained with six different local instructors. Three of these are from my immediate local area, and three are from schools within forty or so miles.

There is a school of thoughts that says “Why train with instructors who are essentially your potential competition? Why give away your trade secrets or signature moves? Why try to learn from them, if you already good enough?”

I disagree completely with this train of thought, and here’s why: I think all of the above is utter nonsense.

The idea that other instructors are a threat to you is ridiculous. Unless you are a pole dancer of a very poor standard, or one that operates under a shady practice, you have nothing to fear from other instructors. Sure, you will all have your own strengths and weaknesses, and your own signature moves and style, but here’s the thing: the most important factor to students is very rarely how damn good their instructor is comparted to the one at the school in the next town. There are so many variables that matter – apart from the boring stuff like school location, convenience and affordability, one of the most important issues for a student is how comfortable they feel at that school – do they feel safe and comfortable and supported by their instructor? Do they enjoy being around the other students in their class? Does the instructor’s teaching style work for them? Can that instructor show them what it is that they want to learn?

Has any student ever upped and left a pole school they loved and were happy at because a teacher elsewhere could do a particular move their own instructor could not? If they did, I’d wager they weren’t happy at that school anyway and it was always going to be time to move on.

I know some instructors feel that training or jamming with other instructors is financially damaging – that if someone wants to learn something from them, they should pay for it. I can see the logic of this argument, and indeed there are many debates raging about pole dancers who are possibly damaging the financial status of the industry by giving away tips and tricks for free via online tutorials, or charging a rate way below the standard, thereby squeezing prices down so low that it’s making it impossible to break even. I fully understand those who don’t want to train with others, especially if they feel they are at a level where they will be sharing their own skills, but not learning anything. Nor do I jam to learn stuff for free – if I want to learn something specific, or just demand the attention of a teacher for an hour, all to myself, I will absolutely pay for that.

However in my own pole jam sessions,  I have shared and learned so much more than just moves and techniques. Pole jams are not lessons. It’s a good opportunity to talk about the industry, about changes and shifts that are occurring. I have discovered new products at pole jams, from grips to pole cleaners, and shared tips about moisturisers and shaving foam. We go to masterclasses together and car pool. We support each other’s events, showcases and charity nights. We help each other train for competitions, then go and cheer our heads off.  I have gained as much as I have ever “given away”. It’s not about anyone being “better”, or giving anything away. Like I said, we all have strengths and weaknesses, so an instructor with a style for strength can help one with a flair for flexibility and vice versa. Learning something from another instructor doesn’t mean they are better than you. Sharing something with them doesn’t mean you are better than them. And, no matter how good you are, there is always something you can learn. As one instructor at a pole jam of five of us said: “If we could just combine all the best bits of all of us, we’d make an awesome pole dancer!”

“Ugh…

she can’t even, like, 

point her toes properly…”

There’s no getting around this: Pole can be a bitchy industry. No matter how much everyone says they don’t get involved in the bitchy side, no matter how much positivity exists in your school, no matter how nice a person you are, it’s impossible to ignore the fact that bitching and sniping and judging does go on, whether you personally partake in it or not. It’s the worst part of ourselves and our industry.

But if you regularly train with someone, surely that could only be a positive thing? If I was ever with other instructors, and negative comments were said about someone I trained with, I know I would defend them. Whether this is true the other way around is not my place to say, but I’d like to think so. I’ve met some great people through training together, and of course, we all have pole love in common, so what’s not to love?

Wouldn’t getting to know each other and working together, whilst respecting each others skills, strengths, schools and achievements, only lead to support, not only for each other but for the industry as a whole? We all want to be a positive, supportive, friendly community.

Getting to know someone as a person, or even a friend, rather than just someone on social media… well… wouldn’t that make the industry stronger?

BEXIITA

How my pole career began by serving margaritas, dancing on tables and teaching English

  By bexackland@ntlworld.com • November 20, 2020

I haven’t always been a pole dance instructor. Sometimes I lament the fact that I didn’t find this amazing sport until I was approaching my mid thirties – think of all that time I wasted, all the combos and strengthening I could have been working on for the past fifteen years! I envy the girls who start in their teens, at the peak of physical fitness and flexibility, who don’t get out of bed each morning groaning like a pensioner, whose hands aren’t already becoming twisted and gnarled, or whose joints seize up every time the weather dips below 20 degrees. 

Pole dance didn’t exist back then – or at least, not in the way it does now, with a pole dancing school in every town. At least I can comfort myself with the fact that I wasn’t missing decades of poling going on just on my own doorstep. 

Recently I was discussing with a friend the career I had before motherhood and pole dancing came into my life. Surprisingly for my friend, this career had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with fitness instructing. And yet, interestingly, I came to the massive realisation that actually, all the jobs that came before this one have, in their own way, contributed hugely to the skills I use every day in teaching pole dancing.

Would you like an 

extended butterfly with that? 

One of my very first jobs was waitressing. While I’m lucky enough – ie. old enough – to have gone to university in the UK in the days before tuition fees, that doesn’t mean we were rolling in cash. I followed the tried-and-tested route of impoverished students everywhere into waitressing to fund our electricity coin-slot meters and textbooks/rock and roll lifestyles (as rock and roll as you can be in Canterbury anyway).

One of the key skills to waitressing was being able to know exactly what was going on with every table in your section – who is waiting for dessert, who will need their drinks refreshed in a couple of minutes, who is between starters and mains, which person didn’t want cheese and who is skipping the entree. It’s like holding 17 ever-changing thoughts in your head simultaneously. 

Think about how it is in pole class: 12 students, all with strengths and weaknesses, all with different attitudes and fears and needs. It’s my job to know exactly how each one is getting on, who will need spotting and who can do this alone, who will need a little extra on top of what we are doing because I know they have already nailed this move. And that tide will constantly change and fluctuate throughout the session, as someone gains confidence and will need to be given the freedom to try it alone, or someone has a bad day and struggles with something they have previously found easy and need a little more encouragement, or maybe a refresh on some key points.

The ability to know exactly what is going on with everyone, and to be aware of it whilst you are dealing with one individual is vital first and foremost for student safety, but also for student satisfaction. Just as diners don’t want to leave a restaurant thinking “well, my waitress was too busy focussing on the big noisy birthday party in the corner and forgot my margarita”, so the pole student does not want to leave class thinking ” well, my instructor just left me in the corner flailing about without a clue” or “I’ve done that move so much I could teach it myself, couldn’t she have given me a variation or something just to break the monotony?”

As a waitress, you also get to say the same things over and over again all day long: Are you ready to order? Can I get you another drink? Is everything OK with your meal? This is true of pole instructing, only this time it’s Point your toes! Engage your abs! Hips over shoulders! Control the core! You get to shout a lot more in pole instructing than you do in waitressing 

Club dancing in the 90s…

…in some very 90s boots

I also worked as a dancer to supplement my university lifestyle. I danced in cages, on stages with featured bands and acts, on a podium next to some of the biggest names in the 90s club scene and was a feature dancer for all the superstar DJs. Not once in all that time did I even touch a pole. It would have helped if I did. I would have fallen over a lot less.

After university, I started training to be an English teacher to 11-18 year olds. I didn’t complete the training, as I quickly learned that teaching (at least, this type of teaching) wasn’t for me, but you can see where the similarities lie with my current job.

One of the things I did like about that teacher training though was the study of the psychology of teaching. I liked learning about all the different ways people learn, and the best ways to approach these different learning styles. This is never more true when teaching a pole class. Some students are visual learners. Some learn by doing. Some prefer to be talked through moves. Some will listen carefully, then immediately forget everything you said. It’s my job to know exactly how to teach each of them, how each will respond differently to each approach and to know which technique to use to get the best response. 

Some students will do nothing until you approach them, and then they will do their absolute best because you are stood right next to them, but the minute you walk away they go back to wiping the pole and nervously watching everyone else. Some are the complete opposite, and fall to pieces when you are with them, putting themselves down and doubting themselves, but the minute you are helping someone else they quietly and determinedly get on with it. These are the people I watch in the mirror, so I know they are safe and what pointers they need, but they don’t know I’m watching them. 

Some students don’t like praise – it makes them feel awkward and embarrassed. Some need constant praise and reassurance. Some need to be the star of the show, and some would never walk through the doors again if even the slightest bit of attention was drawn to them. Aren’t people amazing? It’s my job to spot these details quickly, tailor my teaching to each of them and ensure that all these different types of student can work together as a harmonious group. 

After I left teaching I entered a long career in journalism, and later PR. Admittedly, this has helped me when putting together my business, and enabled me to write all my own company literature and indeed articles such as this. But more than that, it taught me so much about people. Everyone has a story to tell, and more often that not it’s a surprising and unexpected story. I am lucky to hear such stories every day from my students, and getting to know such wonderful people, and I believe this is what has created such a friendly, welcoming pole school – a collection of warm, supportive, loyal, interconnected women for whom pole is so much more than a once weekly fitness class. It’s inspiring to see these woman blossom and grow in confidence as well as in strength, flexibility and coordination, largely thanks to the support of those around them in class.

Then came the career path of motherhood. What did I learn here? So, so much, more than it is possible to write here, or even in a book. Embarrassingly, I hear that maternal voice pop out in class sometimes: “Oh well done!”, I’ll say, clapping my hands, perhaps even jumping up and down a bit. On occasion, I have even heard myself say: “Good girl!” Luckily my students are usually upside down at this point and can’t slap me for being so patronising.

I have been teaching for four years now. I do think that in that time my teaching style has improved, evolved, developed. I think the experience of those years has made me a better teacher than I was when I started out, but when I look back over the past two decades, I can see this journey began long long ago, well before the day I first walked into a pole studio and fell in love. 

Education, training, qualifications: they’re all incredibly important. But experience is infinitely valuable. Everything you are doing is getting you where you are going, taking you where you need to be.

Without knowing it, I have been training to be the best pole dance instructor I can be for twenty years.

BEXIITA

Gratitude Is The Best Attitude

  By bexackland@ntlworld.com • November 20, 2020

So the theme for November is gratitude: a time to look at where you are in the pole world, and see the bigger picture, to recognise the many influences and people that contributed to your successes. 

It is said that the way to bring positive things into your life is not to look to the future, but to look at the present and express gratitude for what you currently have, in order to welcome more of the same. I have undergone some professional changes recently which have brought gratitude into sharp focus, a time to appreciate everything I have, and how it came to be. My journey to where I am now has not always been smooth, but that’s what makes it something to be grateful for.

I am lucky to have crossed paths with some amazing people between the day I first walked into a pole studio and the day when I finally had my own. I am grateful to the person who invited me to my first pole class, who without knowing it changed my life forever. I am grateful to my first ever instructor, who introduced me to this amazing sport and taught me the foundations of pole dancing that I have built upon, and I am thankful for the people who stood by me when certain “friends” told me they thought that pole dancing as a fitness pursuit was “tacky, degrading and disgusting” and that I was a disgrace to women. Yeah, that happened.

I am grateful that my parents spent time and money indulging my childhood passion for gymnastics, which undoubtedly helped me with muscle memory, flexibility and presentation, and unknowingly contributed to this career some 20 years later. I’m grateful for my body, which isn’t perfect or model-worthy, but has done what it is supposed to do, provided me with two perfect children and got me to nearly 40 years old in good health and able to do this sport on a daily basis, even though I moan when it hurts, or won’t do what I tell it on the pole.

I am grateful for the opportunities I was offered and the people who offered them to me, and that I was lucky enough to be able to take up these offers, and for the support of family and friends as I did so. I’m grateful for all the lessons I have learned, the mistakes I have made and the injuries I have sustained, because they all changed my course which inevitably led me to where I am now, which must only be a positive thing.

Sometimes I struggle with my place in the pole dancing world, and question myself all the time. Am I good enough? Strong enough? flexible enough? Too old? Sometimes nothing feels enough. But most of all I want to thank everyone who has made me feel better and kept me going when I felt like this, defeated, frustrated and alone; all the amazing people I’m lucky enough to train with and even to count as friends; all my blog readers and Twitter and Facebook friends who have cheered me up without knowing it when I needed it, with a comment, a message or an encouraging word, or even just a “like”; the wonderful friendly people I have met at courses, workshops and masterclasses who have proved that the pole community isn’t all bitchy and judgemental, but a supportive, nurturing and warm place; the professionals who have been so generous with their time and advice, and especially to my amazing students who have ASTOUNDED me with their loyalty and kindness and maturity and support. It truly is an honour and a privilege to work with you all, and I am grateful to you for allowing me to do something that I love for a living. To all of these people: Thank you.

We live in a world that glorifies excessive wealth, beauty and power, and calls it “success”. We are bombarded with a constant stream of images that tells us we need to be better in every way. You know what… sometimes things are great just the way they are. Why not just enjoy that for a moment? Celebrate. Appreciate. Be grateful. 

BEXIITA

The Spiky (Dragon) Tail Of Social Media

  By bexackland@ntlworld.com • November 20, 2020

I love social media. I like Facebook, mostly because my profile has basically become an online forum for pole dancers who share advice and photos.  I like Instagram, where I share exactly the same photos as I do on Facebook but with arty filters. I like twitter, where I largely retweet stuff by people who are infinitely funnier than me, and where I am guaranteed to be the first to know about dead celebrities. But I also hate social media. Facebook and I have fallen out several times, and once we didn’t even speak for eight months. Now we agree to give each other the space we need and bear in mind that getting too close is not good for either of us. 

Here’s the wonderful thing about social media – it’s an amazing and endless resource for pole dancers. All these people at the touch of a button or the click of a mouse who understand your relationship with the pole. While your friends and family may get it, or try to get it, or tolerate it, or roll their eyes and sigh about it, there are thousands of polers out there who know exactly what you are on about. Can’t nail your Marion Amber? Join the online club. Proud that you finally managed to invert? There’s a whole group of polers waiting to congratulate you. Want tips on moves, products, clothes, or anything pole related? You have an endless bounty of advice right there behind that little f or that teeny blue bird. 

But while social media drops you right into the heart of a community and shores you up with its likemindedness and support, it can also, sometimes, make you feel like the loneliest person in the world. While 90% of the time I am inspired by what I see, and driven to push my own boundaries and edges, sometimes the pressure to keep up can drive you to distraction, in an already competitive industry. For every week when I feel inspired and motivated and amazed by the pole world’s achievements and latest developments, I’ll have the odd day where I can’t help but think: Oh get lost. Go away, and take your quirky inverted anastasia variation thing with you. And don’t come back until I’ve perfected my cup grip straight edge too. And two fingers to your chest stand and bendy back.

I discussed this recently with a friend and fellow instructor.

“Look who’s talking” she said. “You post your fair share of new moves we can’t do either” 

And she’s right. Without realising it I have become a Self Indulgent Over Sharer of Pole Achievements – or SIOSPA as I shall call us, for the sake of my word count.

Thing is, I can honestly say I never, ever post photos with a bad intent – that is, I am not a SIOSPA to show off, or brag, or make anyone feel bad about themselves. I feel happy and excited by new moves, and I want to share them for several reasons. I want my friends and family and non-polers to see that pole dancing is tough and athletic and challenging. I want students to know that there are many places that pole can take them, and to know that I work hard myself and expect great things from myself and not just from them. More importantly I am looking for feedback from the pole world, and a whole collection of people who can do the move way better than I can. The advice and tips from the pole community are invaluable. I remember once posting a photo of what I thought was a jackknife. Wooo hooo jackknife! No it wasn’t a jackknife at all. In fact it took me another two years to manage a jackknife.

So I have to assume that other SIOSPAs are the same – nobody can really be posting pictures to make us feel bad about ourselves? But am I inadvertently making others feel that way? Should I stop sharing, and keep my SIOSPA habit in check?

My dragon tail contribution

This past fortnight on social media has been remarkable for the latest Move Of The Moment – the dragon tail. This was first posted by Charlee Shae Wagner, and within hours it was being replicated globally. We have seen Moves Of The Moment many times before – the sailboat, Janeiro, Anastasia – but never this fast or this prolifically. This is where social media really comes into its own – I have seen the community take this move and share it out, looking for tips, sharing hints, posting videos, and all the while acknowledging where it came from and how we came to be able to do it. Being able to teach a move that two weeks ago none of us had ever even tried is remarkable. Far from making me occasionally feel bad about myself, SIOSPAs are in fact helping me on every step of my pole journey. Without them, I’d have never been doing the things I am doing now. 

If you don’t want to see someone’s statuses or pictures, hide them from your newsfeed. If you really don’t want them at your social media party, unfriend them. But I’ll be leaving my fellow SIOSPAs right where they are – because it’s not their fault I sometimes get down on my lack of strength or inflexible spine. They are there to show me what I can do, and I am grateful for their amazing talents. I have learned more from my social media friends than I ever thought possible. You have no idea how many photos I have on my phone of you lovely people. So keep sharing Self Indulgent Over Sharers of Pole Achievements. I can only hope to inspire a single poler as much as you have inspired me. And if I’m guilty of over sharing too much – well I’m sorry about that too. But don’t feel you have to look. 

BEXIITA

In Pursuit Of Handsprings, And Other Advanced Moves

  By bexackland@ntlworld.com • November 20, 2020

Every one in the pole world who knows me well knows how much I struggled with handsprings. I just could not do them.

 I believed it was due to a lack of strength (as strength is not my… Err… Strength) and that my upper body just wasn’t cut out for it. But in truth I think it was largely down to fear – that upside down flipping over thing – and of course, lack of technique.

At every masterclass I went to – and I go to a lot – when we got to the handspring bit, half of me was thinking – oh no. Here’s the bit I can’t do. The other half was thinking – maybe today is the day. Maybe this is the time when someone will spot where I’m going wrong and steer me onto the right track and I’ll nail it. And every time, when I asked “can you have a look at my technique and see if I’m doing something wrong?” They’d say “no, you’re absolutely fine. Just keep practicing” Grrrr. How frustrating.

But they were right. It was just practice. I was hoping for some magic wand moment, where they’d say ah! You’re doing it completely wrong! And the problem would be solved. But pole isn’t always like that. I’m not naturally strong. I have to work at it. And sometimes, hard work beats natural talent, when natural talent doesn’t work.

First handspring. Not shown: victory dance afterwards

It took me 17 months to handspring, from the first time I tried it to managing it, just once. Just four weeks short of a year and a half. However, I have spoken to pole icons, world champions, who admitted that despite their amazing strength and talents and all round awesomeness, it also took them a year and a half to handspring too. If it’s good enough for a world champion, then it’s good enough for me.

What seems to have happened in recent years is that advanced moves – like handsprings – have been “demoted” down the difficulty scale. Girls want to handspring in six weeks. Instructors want to jam those girls up in legs-off positions and photograph them to make themselves look good. It seems to have turned into a race for the super advanced moves, rather than building up to them.

If I had one piece of advice for students of pole, it would be this: SLOW DOWN.

Slow down your moves – less kicking and jumping and more lifting. It will make you stronger and fitter, and improve your technique- which means that when you come to attempt the more advanced moves, you will be ready, and prepared, and able.

Slow down your performing – don’t rush, we want to see what you are doing and appreciate it and feel it. Hold your moves, even if you are not on stage. It will look better, more polished, more beautiful. And if you can hold a gemini or a scorpio with no effort or struggle, then moving from there up to the next move will not be such a stretch. It will feel challenging, sure, but it will feel possible, and most importantly, safe. 

Slow down your pole training – spend time nailing each move, perfecting it and holding it, not rushing on to the next one. I know it’s tempting to want to invert on week one and handspring on week two but THERE IS NO RUSH – You are in competition with no one. You have the rest of your life to spend on this journey. Savour it, enjoy it, and you will be a far better poler for it.

The world of pole has come so far. The moves are crazy now, as these athletes take it to the next level, with gravity defying feats, mind blowing strength and flexibility that would put an elastic band to shame. Those moves are amazing and inspiring. But those moves are not the norm – a handspring is still, in fact, an advanced move. Just because more people can do it now who have been training and learning for a long time, it doesn’t make it any less of an achievement.

For me, I realised that being self-taught and trying to handspring without a spotter probably wasn’t the best way to learn, and I invested in some lessons with a fellow instructor I trusted. Boom – I got that handspring in about 15 minutes with her. A combination of technique, support, time, continuous training and getting over the fear. I was so happy, but not as happy as when I taught a student to handspring for the first time myself. It’s a big landmark, as it is nailing any nemesis move, as is inverting for the first time, as is just getting your feet off the ground, as is just walking into class for the first time. 

It’s all a personal journey. It’s about hard work, support and fun, There are no shortcuts. There is no competition

BEXIITA

Pole doesn’t grow on trees

  By bexackland@ntlworld.com • November 20, 2020

There’s no getting around it: Pole dance lessons are more expensive than most other fitness classes.

Among the Holy Trinity of first questions asked by those interested in starting pole dance classes (“When and where are your classes? What do I wear? How much is it?), the How Much? question is usually the point at which interest fades.

You charge how much for an hour??? 

When I first started pole classes nearly 5 years ago, the lessons were £10 – a very reasonable rate for pole locally, but still twice the price of your average zumba or aerobics class, and this still stands today – wherever you are in the world, and whatever factors affect your local prices, I’m still willing to bet that most pole lessons are considerably higher than your average fitness class.

But pole is not your average fitness class. Here’s what you may think you are paying for:

An hour long fitness class, along the same lines as a zumba class, legs bums & tums or a powerhoop class. There will be a warm up, some bits that make you sweat and ache a bit, then a cool down. You’re charging a lot of money for that!

I see what you’re saying. But in fact, here’s just some of what I’m charging you for:

Firstly, hardware: Studios cost money. Sometimes they are rented spaces, which doesn’t come cheap, especially if the class is small, or there are no-shows. This is why your pole school will thank you for it if you let them know you won’t be making it to class. Sometimes the pole school owns the space, but much like owning your own home, that will still involve a mortgage payment, which will not be small. Even for those lucky few who outright own a space, there will still be business rates, bills, public liability insurance, music licensing and many other costs. So far, no different to other fitness classes, but let’s add on to that the cost of equipment. Crash mats, stretch mats, yoga blocks, stretch bands and mirrors are just the start of it. Your main equipment cost as a school owner will be your poles. Safe, recognised poles are not cheap, and nor should they be. And neither do they last forever – regular maintenance and upkeep will keep your poles safe, but eventually they will need to be replaced. This is one area you do not want your school to scrimp on, and is one of the reasons your classes may cost more than other fitness classes.

On top of that, you are not just paying for one hour’s tuition; in this day and age when time is precious, your lesson will reflect the amount of time your instructor has put into your class – hours of research (OK, watching pole dancing videos on YouTube isn’t exactly a chore, but still…), administrative work that can go on for days, putting together carefully tailored lesson plans that ensure each student’s particular strengths are played to and challenged, plus time spent possibly putting up and taking down poles, all of which eats into your instructor’s working day. We haven’t even touched on marketing, branding, promoting, advertising, website development or hosting events.

But it’s more than just the hardware and time you are paying for in your class cover price. For starters, your instructor should have invested heavily in their own training. This may (or may not) include extensive qualifications and training courses (both in pole and possibly in business skills), but even if it doesn’t, it will hopefully include the not insubstantial costs of their own pole journey – their own lessons, masterclasses, workshops, and primarily their experience – their time honing their craft, sometimes for many years, and their own personal development to keep your classes current and up to date.

Add on to this personal insurance, registration with various recognised bodies and a million other small costs, and suddenly the cost of your lesson becomes hopefully more understandable.

Teaching pole is not a license to print money. Time and again I see people who think this is an easy way to make a living, that you can charge twice the price of any other dance class and rake it in. Wrong, wrong, wrong. As a school it is important not to fall back on the “that’s the going rate” excuse. We need to make sure we are providing value for money.

Many things come into play when setting your prices to your students. I will keep my prices as reasonable as I can. Of course some schools can keep their rates low due to overheads and a thousand other variables. Some costs are fixed, and vary from studio to studio based on circumstances. A larger, better equipped and beautiful studio may charge more than a smaller one. A school whose instructors have an excellent reputation may charge more than another – and bear in mind that that reputation will have been earned with hard work, experience, and many of the factors discussed above. Local economics of course comes into play – prices vary widely throughout the country, in the way that house prices do. But bear in mind that, as with all things, you get what you pay for.

To be an effective teacher, you should never stop being a student. A good pole dance instructor invests time, effort and, yes, money to improving and being the best they can be. It’s what justifies the money we charge to students. Pole does not come for free. Investing in your future is wise.

Yes, pole is more expensive than most fitness classes but when you take these costs into consideration, it begins to represent exhcellent value for money.

The Inner Voice Of A Pole Dance Would-Be Competitor

  By bexackland@ntlworld.com • November 20, 2020

Every time I think about competing, even the thought of it brings me out in a cold sweat and makes me want to run away and live in a cave, so I don’t think the competition circuit is for me.

I would quite like to have a go at putting together a routine though. Not to compete or anything. Just for myself. 

It’d be rubbish though. I can’t dance without resorting to MC Hammer and Vanilla Ice moves.

Maybe I could do an MC Hammer and Vanilla Ice themed routine!

No. No.

What is a theme anyway? What does that mean? An epic tale of my struggle to find a parking space today told thought the medium of interpretative pole dance?

Anyway, I’m not going to compete so it’s irrelevant. Let’s just get on with these lesson plans and maybe think about hosting a choreography session or putting together a routine to teach it. Or maybe perform at a showcase? If it’s any good, of course. Which it won’t be.

There’s going to be a regional competition! Maybe some of my students would like to enter? It’s be great for them, to push themselves and show their families and friends how hard they have worked and what they have achieved.

I wouldn’t do it though. I’d be busy helping them prepare and teaching them and stuff.

Oh though. I won’t be very good at helping them will I. I know nothing about competing or performing – having, y’know, never done either.

Hmmmm

Students’ universal response to suggestion that they compete in new regional competition is akin to response I would expect if ‘d suggested we all smother ourselves in garlic butter and lay in the sun under a giant magnifying glass.

Students suggest I enter the competition instead. This is because they think I’m quite good, largely because I’m the only pole dancer they ever see who can do something more than a basic invert, and as we all know, in pole you think everyone is brilliant who can do anything that you can’t. 

OK, maybe I’ll have a think about it.

Thinking about it is already making me panic.

Maybe that’s why I should do it! Do something every day that scares you! Overcome your fears! You have nothing to fear but fear itself! It will be a triumph of Facebook memes over human worries. Maybe you’ll discover a whole new side of yourself that you did not know existed! Maybe you’ll be awesome and amazing and the crowd will be reduced to tears, possibly throwing themselves to the ground with emotion, flogging themselves, weeping and wailing!

They probably won’t though will they, to be honest.

A more likely scenario is that the response will be “that was a bit pants, we thought she’d be better than that”

Actually, a more likely response would be “We have no idea what she’d be like as we have no idea who she is”, in which case I can be as rubbish as I like.

Right. OK. I think I’m going to have a go. I’ll apply, and put together a routine, and if I feel like it, and don’t feel like I’m going to die, I’ll go through with it.

Where do I start? A song would be good. This one is nice and slow. That’ll make it easier, right? Won’t have to dance so much and exhaust myself. Can also lay on the floor in an emotive manner a fair bit.

Oh wait. Turns out dancing slowly means holding moves longer and being more controlled.

I’m going to have a costume made too. It’ll be sparkly. Possibly in red. Or green! I can have a bejewelled bikini made, and then wear it on holiday! This is BRILLIANT! I’m going to enter loads of competitions until I have an entire wardrobe of bespoke bikinis and hotpants.

Oh good lord there’s going to be an audience of hundreds and I’m going to have to LOOK AT THEM and acknowledge them and stuff, and smile and make eye contact. 

Breathe, breathe.

How about taking on a persona, and playing a role? That way, you can cover all the anxiety in a cloak of character and it’ll neatly take care of that tricky theme dilemma too. 

OK so let’s pick a character. By which I mean, let’s go through all your favourite films and see if any have good music. 

Well whaddayaknow, here’s the perfect theme. Surely this has been done before? Best have a quick check on YouTube.

Hehehe these YouTube videos of animals with human voices dubbed over the top are HILARIOUS.

Right, better get down to some serious choreography. I have an hour after class, should be long enough to get a fair bit of it done…

I am soaked with sweat, breathing like a pensioner at the top of a mountain and think I may vomit. But that’s OK, because I have managed, over this hour of intense workout, to choreograph a whole 20 seconds of my routine. Yes folks, 20 seconds. A whole 7% of the finished piece.

I really am hopeless at choreography. But that’s OK, because I have the perfect pole combination in my head. I have a series of moves in my head all of which will obviously look amazing and be at the perfect optimum angle for the audience and judges. I’ll have a go at them another day, when I can actually breathe again. 

So yeah, may have been a little over enthusiastic with this combo. As Jameson might’ve said to Peter Parker at the Daily Bugle, let’s edit this considerably. 

Things are not going as I planned. The competition is in two weeks, I only have 50% of the routine done and what I have got worked out is very scrappy and messy. I do however have lots of support and advice from wonderful kind people from the pole community who undoubtedly are making this whole process easier, and who must be getting sick to death with my periodic rants and self-absorbed Facebook updates.

Best friend has just told me that I am not to enter any more competitions or she will kill me herself.

Long drive back from a friend’s house. Ahead is a rainbow. It’s right in front of me, right where I’m driving to. It’s a sign! A sign that everything is going to be great and positive!

Don’t be stupid woman. It’s a bit of natural phenomenon. It’s rain, mixed with sunbeams. The sky doesn’t give a toss about your competition. It doesn’t even care about big stuff like famine and world hunger. If it did, it’d go and rain in Africa instead of drizzling on the M25. Nature is a complete cow.

But still, apparently, we are surrounded by signs in the natural world all around us, and we should pay attention to them. And it’s better than moaning all the time.

It’s two days to the competition. Better actually finish the routine. God I’d kill for a vodka and orange. I’ll be pleased when all this is over. I can’t even remember why I’m doing it now.

The big day has arrived. What am I doing? These people are all amazing and talented and a lot better than I am. And they’re all eating nuts and bananas. What am I missing? Am I meant to know about this? Oh god I can’t even get the food right.

OK it’s my turn to perform. Nothing to do now but try to enjoy it and do the best I can and hope I don’t screw it up too badly. I can hear the crowd. They seem to be having a good time. I suppose I’d better just try to entertain them and… and what? Smile? Hope they don’t notice the terror? Or that I’m way out of my league? Oh well too late to do anything about it now. Here goes…

OK. OK. I’m still alive. I didn’t die. It didn’t go perfectly but it was OK, I think. God I’m glad it’s over. I am going to have such a massive vodka later. It was actually quite fun, more fun than I thought it would be. Can’t wait to see everyone. I hope they enjoyed it.

Well holy smoke balls and sweet mother of all things that are good and pure. Unbelievable. I have placed second in the professional category – a category full of incredibly talented girls, all of whom deserve to win and who have been a pleasure to hang out with backstage. I really cannot believe this. Surely this is a dream? This cannot be real. 

I genuinely was not here to win or place. In the midst of everything, the fear, the self doubt, the hard work, the pressure, the pain and the bruises and the time away from my family and friends, I pretty much forgot why I was here. Now I remember – it was to push myself, to see what I was capable of, to do something I thought I never could. To prove the voices of dissent wrong. To encourage my students to do the same. This has been an amazing journey, and not an easy one, but one I am so glad I took.

Now, where’s that vodka and orange?

And my student Ash won the beginner category!