PHOTOS BY SARAH BOEKE/DAILY

Wednesday, April 13, 2022 // The Statement — 2

Content warning: Restrictive eating habits 
“Now let’s get acquainted with that pole.”
After completing several warm-up exercises 

— wide-leg squats, downward dog, plank shoulder-
taps, anything to bring our heart rates up — we had 
arrived at the long-awaited activity, the reason we 
were all in that room on a dark Wednesday evening.

We were there to dance.
At the direction of our instructor, Sophia, each of 

the dozen people in the room approached the silver 
bar before them. From my position at the back right 
corner of the room, I had a clear view of the rest of the 
class, how each person neared their pole with differ-
ent levels of comfort and familiarity depending on 
their level of experience. 

Everyone had on the layers of clothing they were 

comfortable with: biker shorts, tank tops and sports 
bras were the most common pieces, mirroring my 
own spandex shorts and tie-up Michigan tank. The 
long mirror at the front of the room reflected every-
thing I was seeing before me, giving us the chance to 
analyze our moves and our bodies should we dare to 
look.

The room was dark, especially in my corner of 

the studio — the black skies just beyond the wall of 
windows directly to my right provided little light. 
But there was a bright glow from the light fixture 
shining from the sloped ceiling at the center of the 
room, shining directly over the tallest pole extending 
up into the peak of the roof above us. It was enough 
to illuminate the space, the resulting shadows simply 
added to the alluring, thrilling atmosphere.

I wiped my pole down with a small black towel, 

preparing myself for the real work we were about 
to begin. Following Sophia’s example, I stepped to 
the left of the pole, stretched on the tips of my toes, 

and reached my right arm high above me. I grasped 
the metal bar and nervously, excitedly awaited our 
instructor’s guidance.

And then we began.

***

I have had a complex relationship with my body 

throughout my life. As a former competitive volley-
ball player, I constantly pushed it to its limits in terms 
of what athletic feats it could accomplish, how per-
fectly it could execute whatever movement I needed 
it to do. 

Before settling on volleyball, I had tried my hand 

at nearly every sport popular in America: soccer, 
baseball, softball, lacrosse and skating. This excite-
ment about physical activity hasn’t wavered since 
entering college. I constantly seek out new athletic 
opportunities as I’m confident in my body’s ability to 
adapt and excel — and I’m proud of my dedication to 
honing its abilities.

As a result of my intimate relationship with my 

body, I’ve experienced equal amounts of frustration 
and insecurity. It’s a common assumption — and 
simply an accurate statistic — that volleyball play-
ers are generally supposed to be tall, lean and toned. 
Many of my teammates throughout my life have 
possessed these features, traits that contrast with 
my average height, my curvy and more muscular 
build. So standing next to my teammates, I always 
felt I was lacking.

The dichotomy of appreciation and distaste for 

my body for years prevented me from creating a 
peaceful relationship with it. My insecurities fol-
lowed me to the University of Michigan, and while 
I outwardly owned my curves, my mind was always 
at war with itself, never able to decide if I was being 
truthful about my outward confidence or not. 

To our readers:
In last week’s the Statement edition, the design featured under the “Our Uncanny Reality” piece involved a piece of text that made the ableist insinuation that pros-
thetic hands carry an unsettling connotation. We apologize for our negligence in overlooking the printing of this piece of text. The Daily wholeheartedly condemns able-
ism in all of its forms. The design has been updated accordingly on the digital version of the “Our Uncanny Reality” piece found on our website. 

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BY SARAH STOLAR, STATEMENT CORRESPONDENT

Then the pandemic reared its ugly head into our 

lives. Where I had previously been used to intensive, 
daily three-hour practices, I had to decide on my 
own how I would remain active while attending 
Zoom University. I exercised every day with HIIT 
or strength workouts. I felt guilty for eating anything 
unhealthy, as though eating one cookie would com-
pletely change my physique.

But this year, my second year at the University, my 

mindset has shifted. I’ve been able to explore more 
of college life as the pandemic slowly eases, alleviat-
ing some of the mental health challenges of COVID-
19. I’ve engaged more with the ways I can display 
my body to the level that I’m comfortable with. I’ve 
experimented with more revealing clothing on 
nights out and bared more skin during my workouts. 
I’ve been able to go out and attend social functions 
that have allowed me to get to know myself and my 
image.

I’ve never known the confidence I have in my 

body now, and it took years to arrive at this point. 
I still experience insecurity, as everyone does, but 
these dark thoughts are much rarer than they were 
when I was younger, comparing my physique with 
that of my volleyball teammates.

In college, I seek to celebrate this pride in both 

my body’s abilities and its appearance. I still consider 
myself fairly modest, but in a way that reflects my 
own desires and choices instead of those forced upon 
my mind by the perceptions of society. I still seek 

new ways to remain active and challenge myself 
with physical activity. When I learned of the pole 
classes offered near campus, I saw an opportunity 
to continue this journey into confidence, into sen-
suality, going against the limits set by my adolescent 
insecurities.

***

At the end of March, I was finally able to attempt 

this activity I had seen as a pinnacle of all of the men-
tal and physical work I had put into my body: pole 
dancing. I signed up for a Level 1 class at Polarity, 
well-known for its prominent position above South 
University Avenue. Its wide wall of windows allow 
rowdy South U pedestrians to glimpse into the pole-
studded studio, making it an unmistakable store-
front as you walk by. 

Standing close to the windows, I had a constant 

view out onto the bustling scene of South University 
Avenue as I made my movements. After a few exer-
cises, I glanced outside to the street below. Sitting at 
Lan City Noodles, a group of three people were look-
ing up, pointing at those of us twisting around our 
poles. Though the darkness made it feel like we were 
in our own cocoon, we were on full display. Spandex, 
sports bras, gyrations and all. 

From the moment the class began, I was focused 

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