Quickly, and almost imperceptibly to most of the town of Charlottesville, it came and went.  There were a few flyers here and there and it was announced on the Paramount marquee, but on each it said USPDF.  And what common pedestrian is expected to know what USPDF stands for?  Would you have guessed US Pole Dancing Federation?

I don’t even remember how I heard about it. But I wasn’t planning on being in Charlottesville on October 4th. The plan was to be on a boat relaxing. This wasn’t something the AFP could pass up though, especially since it was in our hometown theater. Ross was leaving for Israel the next day, so, alas, I would have to go this one alone. As you can imagine there was some resistance to a young male photographer asking for behind the scenes access to a pole dancing competition. I called ahead and explained the concept of the AFP to the governing body and event host the USPDF, and thankfully was able to convince them of my purely photographic intentions. I was working on a hunch that this could be a great event for the AFP and I think I was right. With my audio recorder, I interviewed the competitors and tried to capture some of the sounds backstage to pair with the images.

US Pole Dancing East Coast Regionals from American Festivals Project on Vimeo.

I don’t think the blog post here needs to be extensive on the analysis. The women speaking in the video do a pretty excellent job of sharing the way they see it. But it’s a fine line between women who perform on the pole as strippers and the women who perform as artists and competitors. To the casual observer, the difference is negligible. It’s erotic, it’s high heels and tiny outfits, it’s women climbing on a pole. But when you actually watch one of these events, you can begin to tell that these women are pursuing something far beyond the agenda of the late night club girls. Yes, it’s sexy but all the underpinnings of Sport are there…extensive training, athleticism, team bonding, competition… As I see it though, there are 2 major flaws in pole dancing that will challenge it’s ability to be accepted as a legit sport. The first is that it’s in the dark.   Keep the house lights on and nobody’s going to get the same sexy vibe as when it’s dark. It’ll look more like a gymnastics routine. The second flaw is the argument that pole dancing should be accepted and embraced for its ability to empower women to feel confident and sexy.  Which then begs the question, should women’s feeling of self-confidence and self-empowerment be rooted in the pursuit of feeling sexy? Does wanting to feel sexy, or wanting to be sexy, subordinate women and reinforce an overarching patriarchal culture where the male gaze calls the shots? If the art of the striptease was born out of women seducing men, does pole dancing, even in its most athletic form, sever those ancient ties? Judging from the event I saw in October and my interviews with the competitors, I would say not quite. Seduction was a pervasive element in the choreography of each performance. And that’s probably exactly the point.  Pole Dancing isn’t pure sport.  It isn’t field hockey, or swimming, or gymnastics.  And women do want to feel sexy and attractive, just as men want to feel the same way.  That’s not because of Cosmo or Maxim magazine, it’s because we’re hard-wired to think about sex; we’re pre-built with an overwhelming evolutionary agenda to seek out those who can help us make more copies of ourselves. So take it for what you will.  But no matter your position, you can’t argue the skill and strength involved.  It’s simply astounding.

There are probably plenty of folks out there who would debate whether South Dakota is part of the “West.”  The Rockies don’t run through it.  It’s name doesn’t conjure up an image of cowboys. It’s basically on the same longitudinal coordinates as Nebraska.  And Nebraska is not the “West.”  Right?  But South Dakota — it feels Western.  You can sense that something is on the other side. The state is like a dinner bell, telling you to wash up for a supper of hearty mountains and quenching rivers.  And when the corn fields end at the precipice leading into the badlands it becomes all too clear that the stitching on the national hem has busted loose.  “Be prepared for the unfamiliar,” it should say, because that’s what you get a few hundred miles past the Missouri River when unrivaled kitsch meets sacred native lands.

Ross demonstrates the inverted back-flip at the Boys and Girls Club for the photo workshop students.

The world’s tallest prairie dog statue.  A giant angry smoke breathing T-Rex.  Cups of coffee for a nickel.  Wild buffalo herds.  Moon-like topography.  Expansive grasslands.  Chinese tourists.  Fleets of RVs.  Indian reservations.  All of it becomes a big jumble of gaping contrasts around the Black Hills of South Dakota. And in no place was this more evident than in Pine Ridge, in the southwest corner of South Dakota, on one of the poorest Indian reservations in the country.

Pine Ridge is a community that knows poverty unlike almost any other zip code in America, not to mention diabetes, teenage pregnanacy, gang violence, and alcoholism.  In the wealthiest nation in the history of the world, Pine Ridge stands out as a great exception.  Running water and electricity are absent from a huge number of homes.  Families are broken as frequently as windows.  And in twenty years, one woman told us nothing had changed except for the new Subway. So it was with a certain degree of trepidation that we arrived on the “res.”  Being two young white males from Virginia with big cameras around our neck, we knew we would stick out. And we did.  But it led to one of the greatest experiences of the trip.

Ben Smith at the end of our epic weekend.

As it turned out, where we entered as isolated strangers, we left invigorated by new friendships, the warmth of the people at Pine Ridge, and the intimate tour of the traditions of the Oglalla tribe.  In a single day, we participated in a sweat lodge ritual, viewed a sundance ceremony, witnessed the wildest display of horse races, and photographed the evening session of the Pow Wow.  We owe tremendous gratitude to Ben and Diane Smith who offered their front yard to two young homeless strangers and then showed us a day we will never forget.  Thanks also to James Rhodes whose idea it was for us come to Pine Ridge to join him in photographing the Pow Wow.

As you’ll see in this post, we diverged a little from our customary documentary style approach to dabble in portraiture.  It would have been too painful to leave Pine Ridge without portraits of these men and women in beautiful “regalia.”  So on a hot too-sunny-to-get-good-pictures afternoon, we pulled in participants after they finished a competition and asked them to stand for us.  We’re thrilled with the results from our makeshift studio.  And it also gave us a chance to meet and talk with lots of different people who had traveled from different states to compete.  In fact, the entire element of competition was something we hadn’t forseen.  But we weren’t surprised; prize money is a common theme among the events we attend.  Just like at the rodeo or the Lumberjack games, Pow Wows offer prize money for different categories, and so most participants are moving week to week to a new location on the circuit.  And the tug of tradition and family heritage is an equally important aspect along with the money.  But just like so many other festivals we’ve covered, it’s unclear if prize money will be enough to keep these traditions alive.  On the Pine Ridge reservation, fewer and fewer of the younger generation are speaking Lakota.  Basketball is far more popular year round than native dancing.  And traditional garb is worn far more infrequently than contemporary urban labels.  In an era of surging wealth for Indian communities who are distancing from their past and profiting from casinos and natural resource extraction, it’s unclear how Pine Ridge will evolve and transform, if ever.  For the time being, it is a community close to its history, and struggling, just as the rest of the US does, with how to hold onto the past as it moves into a new and unpredictable future.

Pine Ridge Pow Wow from American Festivals Project on Vimeo.