don't judge a dancer by her pole

While spending time with a friend in the San Francisco apartment she shares with her husband, I noticed a pole in the middle of her home office. She has been taking pole-dancing classes. Apart from innocuous demonstrations for friends, she saves her performances for her husband. I asked for a demo; she obliged.

With soft music playing in the background, she twirled and whirled and swung and hung, all the while verbally describing things that one could do to make the dance more... provocative. I was amused at points, nervous at times (that she might slip and injure herself). But I was altogether impressed by the grace, strength and agility it requires to capture the aesthetics of a dance that's generally (mis)perceived to be purely prurient. I also quickly understood why her husband did not object to erecting a pole in the middle of their spare bedroom.

My friend - international lawyer, interior decorator, writer extraordinaire - tells me that learning to pole-dance helped her gain strength and confidence in her body. She doesn't quite fit the picture of a pole dancer that comes to mind, but somehow the whole thing seemed perfectly normal that afternoon as fog from the Bay slowly drifted over the hills. And I suppose this is one of the things I love about San Francisco: it doesn't put much stock in meeting expectations or standards for "normal." As much as I love a good boundary here and there, sometimes it's nice to have a bit more space to think, move and live outside the box.