How Pole Dance Is Helping Me Overcome Religious Sex Shame

It feels powerful to be overtly sexual after purity culture.

Growing up in a conservative Christian community, I felt immense pressure to mute my sexuality. My dad used modesty mantras like, “Shoulders to knees, nobody touches, nobody sees.” Women’s group leaders lectured the virtue of saving sex for marriage. Many young women received “purity rings” from their parents, a symbol of promised chastity.

Leading up to my first pole dance class, I spent the year pointedly unraveling patriarchal religious conditioning. I had learned to conform, put others first, and feel shame about my sexual body. Shame lives in our bodies, and you can’t just magically erase it.

But when I provocatively writhe on the floor, undulate my hips, and brazenly feel my curves to the beat of erotic music, the religious gaslighting starts falling away.

Before the patriarchy, people honored sexuality as a most sacred gift to women—temples filled with young women who celebrated their blossoming sexuality with coming-of-age rituals.

Through this act of sexual union, a woman became sanctified, empowered, and knowing of the mysteries of life. Through the sacred act of sexual love, woman came into the direct presence of the goddess. Woman passed down to woman a sense of the Primal Feminine and her belonging within it — Judith Duerk in “Circle of Stones.”

Now women are often forced to choose between natural desires and being perceived as “respectable,” “godly,” or “clean.” We won’t easily heal the shame women have experienced about our sexuality for centuries. But honoring our sexual nature now is a great start.

Religious sex shame hurts women.

Though I learned to feel shame about my sexuality, it didn’t stop me from partaking early on. Rather than experience the sacredness of this rite of passage, my boyfriend and I fumbled our hands quietly beneath blankets while eyeing the doorways to avoid getting caught.

When I began wearing makeup as a pre-teen, a flood of critiques and criticisms came my way: “She likes attention too much,” “You look like a whore,” “Godly women mute themselves.” Never realizing I would never win this game, I tried anyway to meet impossible expectations.

My body craved expression, yet my shoulders caved in unconscious self-protection. I’m still working to hold a more open posture.

Looking back, the connection between the clothes I wore and how men treated me makes me angry. Purity culture puts the responsibility on women to avoid “provoking” men’s bad behavior. This gaslighting led me to stay quiet about multiple sexual assaults; I felt embarrassed for wearing a short dress and drinking too much alcohol.

Six years later, I feel horrified by the abuse I accepted as punishment for my “dirty” sexuality.

When I watched the “Strip Down, Rise Up” pole dance documentary, I cried several times. Many of the women in the “S Factor” program had experienced sexual assault. The truth is, we could be dancing naked and still not be “asking for it.”

Being embodied and selfish is essential to our well-being. By connecting with our magical, sexual bodies, we hear our intuitive wisdom. We nurture and sustain ourselves.

Though collective healing from patriarchal traumas seems eons away, feeling powerful in my overt sexuality is a step in the right direction.

Erotic dance feels like self-love.

Four years ago, I moved away from my family and the religious community, and I discovered ethical polyamory. The more I viewed myself as an equal partner, the more I prioritized my needs and desires. I dared to be selfish.

As I heal through childhood traumas and codependency, I’m beginning to see myself as an inherently valuable being. Erotic solo dance feels like an outward expression of my inner journey. I’m working with my body rather than forcing myself to produce or meet external standards constantly.

When I finished watching and crying through “Strip Down, Rise Up,” I pulled out my phone to research local pole dance studios. Maybe I could actually do this. I’d considered pole dance numerous times but felt timid about the social stigma of being so blatantly erotic.

But I found a studio with a supportive environment and emphasis on self-expression. I love my increasing body awareness! I’m wrapping up my third workshop series now and just set up a home dance pole. My morning workouts just got very sexy.

Though I may still be in the honeymoon phase with pole dance, I know I want erotic dance always to be part of my life. I reclaim my authenticity by listening to my body, honoring my sexuality, and awakening my erotic self. I own my body.

Pole dance fuels creative energy.

Throughout my feminine psyche studies, including a depth workshop at Pacifica Graduate Institute, I’ve been exploring the healing power of my sexuality. Removing the shame and replacing it with reverence has been a massive paradigm shift.

“Every woman has an innate erotic essence that must be nourished, honored, and expressed so she may be truly free in her magical feminine body” — Sheila Kelley, founder of “S Factor.”

As I slowly unravel layers of patriarchal conditioning, reclaiming my sexuality as a strength feels fundamental. Our femininity is worth celebrating!

Also, sexuality isn’t just about having sex, although that’s an option. In “The Women Who Run with the Wolves,” Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes describes sexuality as our “life force,” fueling creative passions. We can always channel that energy into expansive or playful projects.

“For generations, they domesticate girl children away from her wildness so she will be submissive. Now, we feel shame” — Dr. Estes.

The more I experience my primal nature, the more I understand the link between creativity and sexuality. As I explore provocative movements, I’ve noticed new perspectives in my music-making and creative writing. I remember to listen for what feels good, to hear my inner voice. I connect with playful presence because magic happens when you start with pleasure.

By shedding external expectations, I feel more bold and grounded. I am noticeably blossoming and glowing. Over the past two decades, I’ve experienced so much heartbreak, shame, abuse, confusion, self-doubt, and self-judgment. Now, pole dance feels like a natural part of the solution, a step towards my more embodied, loving future.

I’m finally celebrating the gift I’ve always had, knowing how precious and beautiful my erotic nature actually is. I’m starting to embrace my captivating sensitivity, delicious curves, and immense capacity for pleasure.

Plus, it’s a thrilling workout!

For perspective, I’ve always considered myself a very active person. Since I was 12 years old, I went to the gym with my mom, did strength training, cardio, and stretching. I played sports and later found partner dance and acro yoga, which is very challenging.

But with pole dancing, I’m noticing a whole new level of physical strength and awareness.

Through rolling stretches, moving music, and playful toning, I feel myself deeply connecting to my body and emotions. I slow down to feel into a movement, then speed up to whip through the air. I roll my hips in a slow, controlled way before losing myself in my body’s rhythms.

Finding fun ways to be athletic has always been important to me, and my workouts just got super-charged. My regular exercises had been feeling a little boring, but I’ve been adding a new twist. I’ll explore new variations on a familiar movement; I add artistic grace to the flow.

What’s really cool, I’m starting to believe in my gracefulness, beauty, and sexuality. Because I’m not pretending anymore; I’m not hiding.

With growing body awareness, I’ve been eating more mindfully, being kinder to my body, and noticing my muscles more clearly. I love the ridiculous core strength, improved balance, and depth in simple sensations.

Though I felt incredibly sore after the first class, I’ve been adjusting quickly. Plus, it’s so fun that I often forget how challenging the moves can be.

Now that I’ve just made space for a home dance studio, I feel so excited to continue exploring and expanding my erotic dancer Self.

Five months after my first pole class, I love this erotic dance! I feel so many benefits already and an expanding reverence for my body’s natural grace.

Far from something to be ashamed of, feminine sexuality makes us strong, passionate, and creative. It’s an incredible gift, not a weakness.

The growing popularity of pole dance brings so much joy. The more we honor women’s natural and authentic strengths and values, the happier we’ll all be. Pleasure is our birthright.

Though ongoing gaslighting and criticisms of female sexuality anger me, I have an outlet now. I recommend pole dancing to anyone interested, especially women. I had hoped for a fun, sexually empowering workout, and I feel I’ve gotten so much more.

Though our patriarchal productivity culture over-values intellectual abilities, our bodies are far more sophisticated, deeply evolved, and intuitive. My magical body holds all the answers I will ever need.

Without people-pleasing, I'm finally channeling more energy into my pleasure, passion, and feminine gifts.

I’m worth celebrating. You’re worth celebrating. We’re worth celebrating.

Thank you for reading! If you aren’t already a Medium member, join with my referral link — Alice Crady. A portion of your fee goes to writers you read. Subscribe to my account if you’d enjoy regular inspiration and empowerment along your self-actualization journey.

More on feminism: