Dance, Dance Revolution

Revolutionary acts. They can be big or small, personal or public. And they can come out of the most unexpected places.

For me, a body revolution has come out of burlesque dancing. Yes, it is that kind of dancing. Bump and grind, booty shakin', striptease dancin'. When I enrolled in the class, I heard the cries from activist friends and family that what I was doing was anti-feminist. I've found it to be anything but.

Like many women in the United States, I've battled both an eating disorder and survived an abusive relationship. I began keeping a food journal at age 8, took my first diet pill at age 12 and was in a controlling, violent relationship for a year in my early twenties. By the time I hit 21, my relationship with my body was detached, complicated and disjointed. I did not associate my mind or my spirit - "me" - with my actual physical being. It felt as though my body existed only for others and had very little to do with me.

I was aware of the disconnect, partly from really being aware and partly from reading literature on eating disorders and abuse. Aside from a few failed attempts at yoga, however, I never conciously tried to fix it. In fact, I don't think I ever realized how deep it ran until I started my burlesque classes in August.

Burlesque is a lot of what you would imagine: a bump and grind here, a hip thrust there, lots and lots of tease. But it isn't just about the sexy stuff. It requires a fair amount of athleticism or, at least, some strength. Ulitmately, it is the combination of what our bodies can do, our creativity and the aesthetics of our physical selves, no matter what the physical self looks like.

This combination has been incredibly powerful. It is the first time that I've realized what combining my "me" and the parts I live in can do when they are joined. Seeing and feeling my body grow stronger has shown me that it can do so much more than just be a shell for others to look at and appreciate or criticize. This is due in no small part to the instructor of the class, who will encourage us to do just one more crunch or hold a balance for a few seconds longer not because we have to but because she wants to show us that we
can.

These classes are, quite literally, the only time in the last ten or so years that I have been physically active and have not been concerned with how I look to others. Weird, I know. It would not be an unfair assumption to think that the exact opposite would occur - the tease is ultimately meant for an audience. But that's the thing about burlesque. The tease element is really all about the dancer. I get to decide when and how and where anything is removed, all the while getting to embrace my creativity, femininity and strength. It isn't about just appearance or the audience at all.

So, while it may not be the most obvious form of feminism, burlesque has cauterized some old wounds and taught me to love and appreciate my body which, in my opinion, is a hell of a revolutionary act.