Pole Dancing in South Bend, Indiana

Recreational pole dancing is not new. Even Oprah tried it back in 2009. There are around 15 studios in Indiana, mostly in Indianapolis and its suburbs. South Bend, a town not known for being at the forefront of trends, got our first pole studio in 2021 when Mathilda Nassar opened Soma.

I take advantage of as many dance-related opportunities as I can find, so I was intrigued when I saw the ads about Soma opening soon. Although I knew nothing beyond the obvious about pole, I wanted to try it. I knew that strip clubs had poles, but I was only faintly aware of it as a practice for fun or fitness. I wasn’t looking for another fitness studio, but I was attracted by the novelty and the dancing.

Novel to me, that is. The use of a vertical pole for exercise and acrobatics goes way back. Mallakhamb, or Indian pole, has existed for centuries as a mode of agility training for male wrestlers. It is still practiced and has grown to include artistic elements. There is also a history of performing acrobatics using two poles in China, dating to around the 12th century. The use of a pole for erotic performances is more familiar to most Westerners. Around the late 18th century, circus sideshow performers in the US with Middle Eastern or Eastern European backgrounds may have used the circus tent pole for climbing and tricks, while wearing “exotic” costumes that were considered sexually provocative. This carried into the early 20th century and was part of the development of burlesque. Modern burlesque involves humor, often satire, and the teasingly slow removal of clothing (not to complete nudity, though). Eventually, pole dancing moved into clubs and bars as entertainment, and incorporated full nudity. The style continued to evolve and dancers developed more athletic moves. Some clubs offered training for dancers, and eventually in the late 90s and 2000s, it began to be promoted as a workout for civilians. As with everything else, the Internet played (and continues to play) a big role in popularizing recreational pole and creating an industry around it.

For the strippers working in clubs, who originated and developed the form towards what it is today, pole dancing is labor and a way to make a living. For the majority of pole enthusiasts in modern studios, it is a leisure or artistic activity that they pay to participate in. Inevitably, there is tension between these two groups, especially when non-strippers disparage sex work or make efforts to distance themselves from it. For example, tagging photos and videos “#notastripper” (a podcast has launched in response: Yes a Stripper.) Is it appropriation for a non-sex worker to learn or perform on a pole? In my opinion, no. Personally, as I have gotten more familiar with pole, I have also learned more about sex work and now have a huge amount of respect for strippers. We owe the art to them. 

While some studios emphasize the sexy side of pole, with lots of flashing lights and glitter on the floor, Soma has a more minimalist vibe. This is probably a wise choice for South Bend. It is a relatively progressive city compared to most of Indiana, but there is not much flamboyance here (there is some!). Soma’s style also perfectly fits owner and founder Mathilda’s personality. I’m not sure I would have gone if the environment was too flashy—not that I was opposed to feeling sexy. That was certainly part of my interest. But I don’t see myself as a person who would wear skimpy clothes, tall heels, and present myself in such a bold way.

However, neither does Soma shun the sensual and focus only on athletic tricks. The majority of classes are tricks-based, focusing on either static or spin pole. There is also a flexibility and conditioning class, not for the goal of fitness in itself but as preparation for improved tricks. They also offer dance classes: low flow, with shorter and simpler choreography and time for freestyle; and “heelography,” a longer and usually more complicated dance that includes moves of moderate difficulty (but not inversions or climbing). Most people wear 7 inch or higher heels. The music can be pop, rap, rock… pole encompasses a big tonal range. There is consistently an element of sexiness with leg waves, body rolls, booty pops, and gyrations on the floor. These of course harken back to the art’s origins.

At first I wore baggy shorts and a tank top to classes. Pole dancers don’t expose skin merely for aesthetic purposes. You actually need skin contact in order to stick to the pole. Cloth will slide off. Bare knees, thighs, upper arms, and often belly and torso are required. It took me a little while to get comfortable wearing a bra and super-short shorts in class, but I was surprised by how good it felt once I did. It helped a lot that everyone else, with their completely normal, gorgeous bodies, dressed this way too. There is no body shaming talk. There are also no mirrors in Soma, a conscious and considered choice. I have worked through my share of body image issues, especially as a dancer who spent a lot of time looking at myself in the mirror growing up. Intellectually, I have long understood that bodies are valuable and worthy, no matter what they look like. Maybe getting older has something to do with it too, but pole has finally allowed me to truly believe this in my heart. It has affected how I view my own body, more than anything else, and then that extends to my appreciation of other bodies.

After my first round of classes, I was ready to give up on learning any pole tricks. The first class was an introduction to the basic concepts of pushing and pulling with your arms, in order to hold yourself up while spinning or creating a shape on the pole. If I had any expectations that I would be above-average at pole because of my dance and fitness background, those were quickly dashed. I felt awkward and inept. After the intro class, I tried a beginner tricks class and a dance class. Neither was a success. Tricks seemed completely out of reach. The dance class was more promising because I love learning choreography, but the movements were not natural for me. It was more complicated than I expected to take the pole into account while dancing. One way to think of dance is as a controlled shifting of weight, usually with only the floor to support you. The pole provides a new element to balance on, to oppose, and to embrace.

I decided to work on tricks again a few months later because my friend Krista also started at Soma. Her enthusiasm inspired me, and I knew that I needed to understand more of the mechanics of interacting with the pole if I wanted to be able to do cool floaty and spinny moves in the dances. It took several months before I felt I could even do the most basic tricks. Besides bruises, it turns out that I have very sweaty palms that easily overpower Dry Hands, the chalk solution that pole dancers worship. Finally I ordered several other types of grip aids until I found one with an effective antiperspirant. It wasn’t perfect but helped enough that when layered with Dry Hands, I was able to hold on to the pole and start to make some progress. That’s when I really started to get obsessed. 

The dance classes are still my favorites. Honestly, a big part of my joy comes from watching and sharing the videos I record. Again, this took some getting used to. I have never been a big user of social media. I never felt like I was doing much worth sharing, and I didn’t feel photogenic. But it’s a big part of the culture at Soma, and of the online pole community more broadly. My first pole goal was to get a video cool enough to post. And I achieved it! I’m sure this plays into my addiction to pole. A lot of the Soma crew regularly share videos of their progress and their dance creations, and I love watching them from the beginners to the most advanced. It contributes to the sense of community and a shared journey. There is also something I’ve come to appreciate about the remoteness of a video. The first time I watch mine, immediately after class, I find myself focusing on my flaws. But the next day, and the further I get away from the direct experience, the more I impress myself with my accomplishments. I can still see the flaws and things I want to improve. When I get out of my own head, I’m able to appreciate what is there already and enjoy it for its own sake.

Soma is very inclusive. I’m honored to practice alongside people of all ages (over 18 according to studio policy). It is mostly female-identified, but there have been a couple of men in classes as well. Most people appear to me to be white (South Bend’s population is 66% white), but there are also Black, Asian, and Latinx students. Several current or former strippers have also been in class. I’m aware of all the privilege I bring into the studio. I am white, cisgender, heterosexual, neurotypical, educated, non-disabled, and employed in an office job. I had access to dance classes growing up, and therefore have some amount of foundational skills that apply to pole. I am able to pay for classes, which cost a substantial amount (and are worth every dollar). I strive to keep this privilege in mind, and I feel very grateful. I believe pole, like all forms of movement, has something to offer different types of people, and I wish that was more widely understood. 

Soma instructors celebrate students at all levels and applaud their progress. The studio regularly hosts photo shoots for students, with “models” signing a release giving them permission to use the photos for promotional purposes. I love how these photos demonstrate the range of abilities, body types, and styles and how beautiful they all are.

Professionally, I’m a public librarian. I love this job because I like to support and encourage people to explore their own curiosities and passions. I feel most comfortable in a background role. On the other hand, there is still some kind of dance and theater kid inside of me. I have always loved to perform. Maybe it’s part of being a little bit of a show-off and a know-it-all. I like to share what I know! This is how I connect with people. The public library gives me a chance to use these tendencies for good by being a know-it-all about things that are hopefully useful for others. Like most librarians, I get enormous satisfaction in being able to answer patrons’ questions. But the opportunity to perform has been largely missing from my life since college, when I had a couple of small parts in plays. 

Soma put on their first student showcase in September 2021, and a second in May 2022. I’m not sure I fully understand the euphoria I felt after these performances. It wasn’t because they were particularly awe-inspiring or flawless, to my mind. It’s something to do with all the preparation, the accumulation of nerves, and finally the execution when I must fully exist in that moment with other people witnessing as I create. Afterwards, I have relief that it is over! Even better was a performance for Fringe Fest put on by the South Bend Civic Theater. There were only about 15 people in the audience, but it was on a real stage. Coming up next, we are performing at a gay bar in collaboration with the local burlesque troupe, the DisDress Dolls! So far, the audience has been extremely supportive of all the performers. Admittedly, they are mostly other students, friends, and family, but that feels even better when they holler and scream for every trick and spin. 

I believe there are many benefits to pole dancing in a mid-size Midwestern city like South Bend. There is a population to support a studio, with multiple colleges and universities. Soma students tend to be in their twenties, although a range of ages are well-represented. The lack of competition, to me, allows it to be itself rather than resorting to gimmicks to attract customers. Another benefit is the closeness of a community of like-minded people. Despite my wish that everyone try pole, the reality is that it’s not appealing to everyone. In South Bend, there is only a small subset of the population that will even consider trying such a thing—whether that’s due purely to age, fitness level, or personal taste—-and an even smaller group that will stick with it. So this is a great way to find unique people with myriad talents.

I have repeatedly found welcoming communities in South Bend. First of all, when I was a student at Notre Dame and found a bookish, passionate group of kids based around the Program of Liberal Studies program. I’d had a rough time before that, judging most of the other Notre Dame students to be bland and stuck up. Since then, I’ve mostly found community through fitness classes, from Zumba to yoga to cardio dance. Moving together with people connects us in a primal way. It’s a shared experience, yet each person has a unique expression to share. 

Working at the library gives me the chance to come into contact with the community as a whole. The library is open to everyone and it is immensely valuable to hear the questions and interests of such a wide range of people, and try to meet their needs. But it’s also important to balance that with a closer connection to a smaller group. I have found belonging in a large sense and a more personal sense.

Pole offers a perfect opportunity to let go of expectations. You (like me) may take a lot longer to pick things up than you expected or hoped. You might also surprise yourself with what you’re capable of (also me).