The original text is available in English under a CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 license ( https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ ) and can be accessed here:
( https://journals.ed.ac.uk/unfamiliar/article/view/1515 ).
Our research began at Madame Peaches: we enrolled in a six-week beginner’s pole-dancing course, held in a rented studio in St. Margarets House, Meadowbank, Edinburgh. Our presence and participation in the class helped us to better understand our own bodies and how pole dancing might affect our body image – this became the foundation of our study.
We examined how the course created a space where women could freely and without external judgment use and reshape their bodies while working alongside other women. At the same time, we discovered that patriarchal power structures – despite the fact that only women attended the classes – remained present and influenced the development of female body image.
Although it seemed that we were reclaiming our bodies, in reality we largely continued to conform to patriarchal ideals of the female body, producing a sense of pseudo-liberation. Our study uncovers the tension between these contradictory concepts, exploring the role of female autonomy in this discourse, and how individual choice enables women to reclaim their bodies from the phallocentric “ideal” and to gain sexual independence from the male gaze.
The Liberation of the Pole Dancing Body
Since we began our fieldwork, we encountered many common prejudices among our friends and colleagues regarding women who pole dance: many believe that every female pole dancer is a “slut,” “stripper,” or “whore.” However, when we spoke with other pole dancers, either in class or outside of it, the conversations were more strongly characterized by feelings of liberation, newly gained confidence, the opportunity for physical exercise, and the safety of a women-only space than by the “common reality” that pole dancing is taboo for women and exists primarily for the entertainment of heterosexual men.
One of our respondents, Sam, explained that she practices pole dancing primarily for fun, as a strength and endurance workout, and as a social activity with friends.
According to Das (2013), analyzing the various interpretations of pole dancing can help us better understand the assumptions and consequences associated with it: who pole dances, why they enjoy it, and how pole dancing can be interpreted in many different ways. While previous assumptions and associations connected to pole dancing partly arise from and reinforce exploitative ideals of the female body and sexuality, our own experiences did not contradict contemporary feminist thought, which “has always supported and encouraged women in developing a deeper connection with their own bodies” (Das 2013: 696).
During pole dancing classes, our body image gradually shifted, resulting in greater bodily autonomy and opportunities to use our bodies in new ways, thereby creating a stronger sense of self. Sartre argues that this bodily autonomy is a fundamental source of identity: “the body is what I myself am” (quoted in Synnott 1993: 32). Through the interaction of participants with the pole and their bodies, women gained greater confidence and a deeper understanding of the relationship between their bodies and their identities.
Pole dancing classes offered participants the opportunity to consciously recreate their bodies through deliberate, controlled movements. With bodily changes came changes in self-image and personality. Yet this transformation was not always immediate: we observed that the development of pole skills did not always directly translate into immediate confidence. Jess, our instructor, explained that visual feedback is often necessary for someone to strengthen their confidence: “[Amanda] doesn’t see herself, she doesn’t see what I see, or what everyone else sees… yet she was fantastic!”
So that participants could see their progress from the outside, Jess often took photos during the classes, which she later uploaded to the class’s community page. Participants could look back at these images and read their peers’ encouraging comments. From our observations, participants’ confidence was more strongly derived from this visual feedback and the supportive community’s positive responses than from executing a specific move successfully. Amanda’s example illustrated this clearly: she only realized her own progress after reviewing the photos and reading her peers’ appreciative remarks.
Rather than demanding a specific body type, our respondents reported that pole dancing provided a space where anyone – with any body shape – could increase their confidence, strength, flexibility, and make friendships. The space was intentionally made private with closed doors, curtains covering windows, and an invitation-only social media group. These physical and virtual boundaries created an environment that excluded the “male gaze” and patriarchal body ideals, allowing each participant – regardless of ability or level of progress – to use her body freely within the class to express thoughts, feelings, femininity, and sexuality.
The Male Gaze and Commodity Feminism
Even though we practiced pole dancing in a closed, decidedly female space, we remained aware that patriarchal systems in the UK and worldwide continued to shape us, since these were the contexts in which we grew up. Mahmood (2012: 157) points out that the male gaze constantly shapes and influences women’s desires: the idealized femininity constructed by patriarchal systems profoundly determines what we desire and how we perceive our own bodies. This ideal is two-dimensional and unattainable: the paradox is that women are expected to be simultaneously innocent and seductive, dependent yet not too clingy. Patriarchal systems distort women’s perception of their own bodies and identities:
“Patriarchal ideologies operate through the objectification of the female body and its adjustment to masculine representational systems, thus denying and distorting women’s own experiences of their bodies and subjectivities.” (Mahmood 2012: 158)
Mahmood further argues that women internalize these patriarchal ideologies, thereby living their everyday lives from the perspective of heterosexual men. We observed this in the pole dancing classes, even in the absence of men. When we performed a move incorrectly and Jess, our instructor, advised: “Throw in a hair flick to cover it up!”, the aim was not to improve the choreography technically. Rather, it encouraged us to conform to a feminine ideal deemed attractive to the male gaze. Thus, we experienced pole dancing simultaneously as exercise and self-development, while still being influenced by the patriarchal system.
One of our central class themes and sources of motivation was Hollywood actor Tom Hardy. On one occasion, when I failed to master a particularly difficult move, Jess suggested: “Imagine Tom Hardy watching you!” While Tom Hardy’s attractiveness to group members could not be denied, the internalized male gaze became obvious, since he was used as motivation: the move had to be perfected for a man. Although we joined pole dancing believing it to be primarily fitness and strength training, the desire to express our sexuality for patriarchal society’s recognition often emerged. We practiced and perfected routines for ourselves, yet the expectation to perform them “for men” was clearly present, reflected in comments from group members such as: “Do it like you’re dancing for a hot guy at the club!”
Sexuality is a social construct, and society’s phallocentric structures shape female sexuality to be appealing to heterosexual men. Amy-Chinn’s research into lingerie advertising reveals the same connection: she argues that female lingerie advertising “restricts and undermines rather than facilitates the renegotiation of discourse surrounding the representation of the female body” (2006: 155). Even in the absence of men, a heteronormative narrative remained, in which women were expected to behave in ways sexually attractive to men.
Although the pole studio was a space where women could freely express themselves and their sexuality, there remained a constant sense of “performing” for an imagined male audience. The enduring effect of the male gaze persists because the female ideal has been so commodified and fetishized that women believe that by purchasing the right products they too can become the “perfect woman.” Goldman’s theory of commodity feminism (1992) argues that women voluntarily construct themselves and their social value according to a prescribed female ideal. Thanks to feminist movements, women today can reclaim bodily autonomy, yet ultimately they still use this autonomy according to norms dictated by the male gaze, perpetuating the objectification of the female body. This creates the illusion that women own control over their bodies, when in reality reclaiming sexuality remains a form of pseudo-liberation.
Female Autonomy and the Reclamation of the Female Body
Throughout the pole dancing classes we continuously encountered the contradiction between liberation and pseudo-liberation, as female autonomy always appeared alongside the internalized male gaze. Nevertheless, it is important to acknowledge that despite this tension, individual choice played a central role in the pole dancing community.
Feminist discourse highlights that choice itself can be an act of empowerment, even when it aligns with patriarchal ideals. By consciously engaging in pole dancing, women exercised agency over their own bodies and sexuality. They could decide whether to perform a move for fitness, for sensuality, or for both. This flexibility created space for women to explore their identities without being wholly defined by the male gaze.
Several participants emphasized how pole dancing enabled them to reclaim control over their bodies. Emily, for example, said: “When I’m here, I feel like my body is mine again – not something for other people to judge.” The studio became a place where women could safely experiment with their appearance, movements, and sexuality.
Das (2013) argues that “the pole dancing body is a site of negotiation where women constantly navigate between objectification and empowerment.” This negotiation was visible in every class: while certain movements were undeniably shaped by external ideals, women simultaneously reinterpreted them as acts of self-expression.
Thus, autonomy was not absolute freedom but rather the ability to redefine the meanings attached to one’s own body. Even when participants unconsciously performed for an imagined male audience, they still experienced moments of genuine self-determination – moments when they danced for themselves, celebrated their strength, and reconnected with their bodies on their own terms.
Conclusion
Our experiences of pole dancing revealed a constant negotiation between empowerment and constraint. On the one hand, pole classes created a safe, supportive, women-only space that enabled participants to explore their strength, sensuality, and self-expression. On the other hand, the internalized male gaze and patriarchal ideals remained present, shaping how women perceived and presented their bodies.
We argue that this tension does not diminish the value of pole dancing as a feminist practice. Rather, it highlights the complexity of female autonomy in contemporary society. Women’s choices cannot be fully separated from the cultural and structural frameworks in which they are made. Yet within these frameworks, pole dancing offered moments of genuine liberation – moments when women danced for themselves, celebrated their achievements, and experienced their bodies as sources of agency rather than objects of control.
By participating in pole dancing, women engaged in an ongoing process of reclaiming and redefining their bodies. Even if this process was not free from contradictions, it challenged dominant narratives about female sexuality and created new possibilities for embodied empowerment.
