It’s not as though I had dreams as a child of wanting to grow up to be a pole dancer or burlesque performer. I had no clue that that type of world even existed. But once I found it, it filled me like nothing else ever had, and I don’t expect the feeling to disappear. I’ve never been able to visualize myself growing old, but now I hope that when I do, I’ll be living in a community senior facility performing synchronized swimming and acrobatics in a sequined unitard.
I spent a lot of time alone as a child. I just preferred it that way. It was my safe haven where I didn’t need to be any certain way in front of people. I could be left to my own vivid imagination and create whatever scenario I desired. is started at a young age and continued well into my teens. I always felt extremely self-conscious around others; shy and awkward yet desperate to have a connection and acceptance with peers. Consequently, I never felt the confidence to pursue any artistic endeavor too seriously. I dabbled in theatre and performance, but it wasn’t until my twenties when I slowly became obsessed with ballet dancing. I enrolled in classes at a local college and repeated the same program over the course of a few semesters just so I could keep working on technique, which was all so new and astounding to me. The defining moment that started my life-altering course was in February of 2012. I was experiencing a particularly low point of heaviness and depression – stressed and tired all the time from working, knowing that what I was doing wasn’t cutting it for me – feeling that there was something else out there but I couldn’t place it...so I kept with what I knew.
At the same time, my younger sister was pursuing a degree with a focus on dance. I felt envious because by that time I realized that that’s what I wanted to be doing but felt I had discovered it “too late.” I had chosen my path, gone to school, received a degree, worked my ass off, and that was that (it’s amazing what we can program our mind into believing, only to see it come to fruition).
My sister had started taking pole dance classes at one of the studios she was training at and I admit, I was slightly judgmental. Of course, the radical artist of the family dabbling in something controversial, but somehow making it seem acceptable and artistic (this was at the beginning of the “pole dance as a sport” phenomenon that was just starting to become mainstream). But one day, my mom sent me a YouTube link of a demo my sister was doing to promote pole at a local studio where she lived. In the video, she demonstrated a simple series of climbs and a descent. As I watched, something heavy triggered in me. I thought to myself, this looks amazing and seductive and strong and...I’m trying it.
For the first class I ever attended, I brought two of my friends, and promptly purchased a pair of black Pleaser stilettos upon arrival. The room itself was dimly lit, and as I stood up in my shiny new heels for the first time and walked to the pole, I thought, holy shit, my legs look incredible in these shoes. It was followed by an immediate mental response of, is it ok to think that about myself? The class itself was a challenge but I was absolutely enamored with it, and it became the start of a continuing journey of extreme elation, pain, self-discovery, injury, breakthroughs, and everything in between.
I immersed myself in training and continued to grow. I performed in two competitions and various shows, despite feeling “inexperienced.” I started training in other aerial apparatus including lyra (hoop), silks, rope, and hammock, and loved it all. It’s incredibly difficult, mentally/physically rigorous, and sometimes seemingly impossible, but the feeling of doing it is like nothing else I’ve ever experienced, and it’s the coolest thing I can imagine doing in my life. If I could talk to the shy, awkward dreamer of my younger self I’d say, don’t worry, you’ll eventually find your people and you’ll be right where you want to be.
One thing that’s taken me a while to grasp over the last four years is that it is extremely difficult to do when you’re ever actually ready for something. I’ve cringed looking back at old performance videos, but I did the same thing with my earliest design work from college. It all shows growth. I realized I felt so much more at stake in this world because of how much it means to me, how special and coveted a place it holds for my spirit, and for the longest time all the opportunities and joy that came my way I wrote off as “lucky,” or fluke incidents, until I realized that my energy, passion, and unbridled love for this world is what allowed me to continue to attract these moments and experiences.
My world has become extremely colorful (literally and figuratively) since I’ve entered the cirque and burlesque community, and my life strongly enriched from my experiences in it. Not only has dancing prompted me to transition careers into a movement-based industry as a pilates instructor, it’s pushed me to my physical limits and inspired so much creativity and passion while continuously pushing me out of my comfort zone. Despite societal assumptions to the contrary, this form of dancing has created an amazing platform of self-growth and discovery for myself and so many others I’ve had the pleasure of encountering. It has allowed me to unravel and embrace powerful and feminine aspects of myself that were kept hidden. There will always be stigma and judgment around anything that’s considered taboo, and in our culture this industry is still one of them, but I don’t mind one bit. In fact, I’ll save my thoughts on that for another day.
My sister is aware of how she unknowingly inspired me to take this leap just by being who she is, and how my life is completely different as a result. We dream of collaborating one day and performing together or running a studio. In the meantime, I’ll continue busting my ass as a freelance artist in LA, and being grateful of every opportunity I have to carry out my weird, dramatic, and funny moments onstage.
My life up to this turning point was like standing in a room with grey walls and beige-toned furniture. Everything was clean and orderly: perfectly presentable and even had windows to look out of. But then one day a small opening appeared in one of the walls and was glowing with a bright red light. As I got closer and bent down to look, I could see that it was filled with an array of colorful circus performers, huddled around a backdrop of vintage lights and various props. The group leader motioned me over and excitedly said, “come join us,” and it was like my spirit woke up and all the imagination and theatrics and play and darkness and joy of childhood suddenly had a place to manifest in the adult world.
And that’s exactly what the world of cirque and burlesque feels like to me – in an over-simplified way, it’s my adult playground, and I can never go back to that grey room.
This insightful slice of life was brought to us by Elese Orrell.
