For the past several months, I have been in a funk. I cannot find the motivation to get back into my pole mind. The business of pole dancing is a love/hate relationship. You enjoy the pain and suffering, the bruises, and sore muscles. But then, crash, no more motivation or dedication.
In 2017, while stationed in Alaska and facing numerous challenges, I decided to explore aerial silks. I enrolled in my first class in March, which proved to be quite strenuous. Unaware of the studio's various levels, I diligently attended numerous classes and gradually improved. However, I encountered passive-aggressive behavior and microaggressions from an instructor, being the only Black person in the class. Amidst this, my first grandson was born, and I was barely holding on in my military career, struggling with toxic leadership, family responsibilities with a newborn, and managing my PTSD. While silks provided some solace, I sought an additional outlet. My search led me to a local pole studio, which became a lifesaver.
I attended three classes a week: on Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday, and quickly grew to love them. The instructors were incredibly supportive and kind, the classes were fantastic, and I always left feeling rejuvenated. In February 2018, Fairbanks was hit with an extraordinary amount of snow, leading to the collapse of the studio's roof. The studio was forced to relocate, but the new atmosphere didn't quite match the original. The space was more confined, adjoining the spin room, which required pole students to shift around to create additional space. Eventually, the owner chose to remove the pole section. Fortunately, another pole studio, Cirque Alaska, opened soon after. By that time, I was preparing to retire and move back to the contiguous United States.
I opened my studio knowing the challenges of commuting to Austin. However, I wasn't prepared for the additional struggles: the late nights, the solo problem-solving without support, balancing work, full-time studies, and family care. The pandemic severely impacted many small businesses, and I feared closure was imminent. Despite being ready for that possibility, I'm still standing.
I've witnessed both the admirable and the unfavorable in people, absorbed the negative feedback, and observed the remarkable growth of individuals in their pole journey. However, my own motivation eludes me. Following a 2022 competition, my dedication and drive waned. The internal battle to attend class or accomplish even the simplest tasks is troubling. Yet, the sight of everyone's smiles, the shared presence in the moment, and the collective enjoyment of that experience fills me with immense happiness. K&D is a place for all.
SIDENOTE: I want you all to understand. No matter your shape, size, age, or ethnicity, the pole is for everyone!
Love,
K&D
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