“It started when I saw the [dancing] routines of a friend of my sister. Seeing her perform made me want to dance, because it was really beautiful and elegant — the art of pole dancing just really stuck with me. From there I started classes. Now I teach pole dancing part-time, too.
I see pole dancing as more performance art than just a dance. What I like about it is that it’s an empowering dance form. You can express your sexuality, your sensuality, your acrobatic flair in whichever way you choose. It’s really great in building strength and building confidence.
I find it does that not only for me, but for the women and men that I teach, too. They develop a sort of persona around their dancing, which allows them to be really bold and explore that alter ego. Teaching in Belville [in the Western Cape], I find that a lot of my students are quite repressed in that sense, so I think it’s progressive for them.
You learn to do a move you never thought you could do — and it’s not just about strength and how it looks; your interpretation of each move is also really rewarding.
I do hear people saying that pole dancing is too raunchy or sleazy. I have very little time for them. I try to explain that it’s not just about stripping. But there’s a whole part of the pole dance community that wants to separate it from its stripping roots, and I don’t agree with that either because it suggests a kind of prejudice.
Every month I plan to perform at Stripperoke, a Cape Town event where people sing karaoke while we dance. It’s nice because you only have to take off what you feel comfortable with. I won’t go down to a G-string. I have my pole shorts and a stage bra. I would probably do it professionally [but] there’s always the lingering fear that your uncle will walk into the strip club.” — Mia Ardene (27) as told to Rebecca Davis