Can you burlesque when you hate your body?
Spoiler: I don’t actually hate my body. But a title of ‘can I burlesque when my feelings about how I look are complex and change minute by minute’, just didn’t seem so catchy!
Like in my New Year post, this is something that has preyed on my mind for a while. And it’s likely it will take a few blog posts for me to be able to express myself properly, and to break down the complex relationship between my body, my brain and my burlesque practice.
So why is this an issue?
Because burlesque is primarily a conversation between you and your audience. It’s interactive. It feeds off your audience.
And it’s one of those rare forms of performance where you can take control over so many elements.
I started burlesque because I was a dancer. And burlesque offered me the freedom that I craved. I could design my own movements, pick my music, concepts, costumes.
It was freeing to be able to move my body in my own way and that suited me. This was really exciting.
I discovered a performing style with other people. Where- by and large - different body forms were accepted and a version of what could be sensual, sexy was presented. *
I started performing burlesque back in the simpler, social media -less days of 2007-8. And came into it I as someone that wasn’t conventionally attractive. Overweight. Red hair. Freckles. Ghostly white.
I emphasise ‘conventionally’. I was not unattractive.
I definitely saw a way of redefining yourself into something that is unique, beautiful and amazing. It was a really interesting and exciting journey in being both accepting, honest and appreciative of what makes you ‘you’.
But I also entered the industry as someone that identified myself as a presentation of less conventional beauty and body size. One that was attractive, sure. But not mainstreamed.
I also started performing with a clearly defined troupe for many years: different ages, shapes sizes . And I know that presenting this difference was part of the appeal.
I felt hugely comfortable. Hugely proud personally and professionally - both of myself and my business partners. And really felt appreciated as a teacher and performer.
Then a lot of things changed.
In the past two years, I had a number of physical and mental health challenges. I made changes in my diet, over an extended period of time.
(I’m choosing not to go into these too much because I think there is nothing more dull than hearing about someone else’s diet. Nor do I want to promote any individual decisions I made as they suited my needs and lifestyle)
Doing this was something that saw a big change in my health. Mainly because I actually made this more of a priority. Because it wasn’t just addressing a medical or physical issue. There were also some underlying factors that I needed to tackle head on, that I had avoided for so long:
Toxic work environment and a work life balance that was non existent
A fraught family situation
Death of my last grandparent and continual grief over a grandparent I was incredibly close to
Initially I experienced huge positive benefits - in energy levels, physical fitness, and making some more conscious choices around food and alcohol. Again, choices that suited me.
So over a space in time my diet became something, in a range of things out of my control, that I could look after. And that could help bring some positive changes.
Positive changes that I’m really proud about. And I don’t necessarily mean from a weight loss perspective. But to restore some balance. The thing I’m most proud of is making space for things that bring me true joy - like daily yoga, walking my dog, meditation. Rather than prioritising every single other need over my own. Which I know had been a real trigger for my mental wellbeing.
But it’s had equally a hugely challenging impact. Which I think often people don’t realise when your weight changes dramatically. There’s an assumption that suddenly your problems are all fixed. That your life is amazing.
This could not be further from the truth. It’s brought new complexities like:
Looking in the mirror and challenging myself to see a physical difference - letting my brain catch up to my body
Public commentary (outside my closer friends - obviously who I share more with). But those people who you see once in awhile that says ‘you look great’. While often with good intent, you always notice the “now” is the unsaid part of the sentence.
Not knowing what clothes suit me anymore or what costumes suit me -something that I would normally have a lot of pride in
Changing clothing sizes rapidly (this sounds like a humble brag, but it genuinely is really upsetting to find something you bought 6 weeks earlier hangs off you)
The biggest killer? Feeling judged about my teaching and production; a sense of blame that I’m not inclusive or welcoming to others because my waistline changed. Or an assumption that I have judgement for others sizes, shapes or diets.
These things just never entered into my space or consciousness before.**
And this is incredibly challenging internally and leaves me with days where my confidence is completely shattered. At the crux of that is the question, of really am I worth more than my weight?
As someone who started burlesque at a heavier weight, I’ll be honest there is always a worry that I only had some success because of being bigger. That this is what I had to offer. Call it your brand or point of difference.
Do I actually have talent? Do my students hate me? Resent me? Think that I’m judging them? And most importantly, can I continue to teach when my own relationship with my body is more complex now?
Even at my heaviest, I didn’t have such a challenging relationship with my physical appearance.
I write this, because I cannot be the only performer that has felt really shaped by their physical identity, and who hasn’t had to challenge and question this internal monologue.
Putting this openly is important. Although it’s harder, honesty is critical to me. It's part of what I like to bring on stage, to my classes or coaching. Actually to life. I’m not a blow smoke up your ass kind of gal.
Being honest is really the first step in having that conversation with myself and other people - that I am more than my body or my physical appearance. And to let go of some of the resentment and judgement that I felt (rightly or wrongly) from other people. Ironically, I let that really impact me. Wondering whether I had anything to offer. But ultimately, the logical part of my brain knows that I just cannot control how anyone else perceives me - personally, as a instructor or as a performer.
There is some great sparkles, glamour and glitz of course that I love about burlesque - but I’m really done pretending that there aren’t imperfections, challenges that I struggle with, just like everyone else. And I think to gloss over that and to try to be a lesser version of myself isn’t helpful.
As I wrote earlier in the year, my challenge to myself was to experience more of these uncomfortable and difficult feelings. Because it’s actually important to feel them. It’s a cliche - but true - that avoiding just doesn’t bring me anything. If I don’t have a difficult conversation once in a while, I avoid stuff that also is amazing. All of those new experiences- making new friends, creating new performances, finding new ways of working.
* I have a LOT of thoughts about how burlesque can sometimes not be as diverse. accepting and body positive as we would like to suggest it is. And always welcome a conversation about how we can be more pro active at being more inclusive.
**Just a nod to me realising this was a really privileged position to be in