My 5-Year-Old Daughter Said She Wanted To Take Pole Dancing Lessons. Here’s What I Told Her.

I held back giggles. What do you say to a little girl who lets you hold their soul like that? I know many people might be horrified if their daughter saw a pole dancer at such a young age. Old Puritan belief systems have deep roots in us. But as a parent, I’ve never wanted to hand my preconceptions about the world and the complex behaviors of humanity to my children. It’s because I’ve learned as soon as I say I’m absolutely right about something, I often find I’m absolutely wrong. 

I grabbed Amelia’s hand to go, but then I stopped myself because my daughter was still admiringly transfixed on the dancer. And suddenly, I wanted to admire her too. She was in her early 20s, confident, and her face held the wide smile of the little girl she once was.

Perfectly made. And strong as hell, climbing that pole.

“I’m with you,” I elbowed Amelia. “I wanna take those lessons, too.” 

This woman, strong and sexy, yes, but also seeming to feel joy in her body. She moved so naturally and to her own rhythm that I suspect she knew how beautiful she was — on the inside. 

I prayed my Amelia would feel that someday, too. I mean, maybe not pole dancing, but who knows?

She never asked about the dancer again. 

I did enroll her in more traditional dance classes later that year. She towered over the rest of the petite girls, though, and she didn’t follow the choreographed moves like the others. It was like she felt the music in her own way and leaned into her awkward confidence. I was proud. Eventually, she grew to 6 feet and took up basketball. 

Now, as we wait for the dryer to finish, I hold the photo up to Amelia.

“Do you remember this moment — seeing the dancer in Vegas and wanting to take her lessons?”

She tilts her head, then says, “Maybe?” before it seems to dawn on her. “Ohhh, yeah.”

“Do you remember what you said?” I ask sheepishly.

“Didn’t I ask to take those lessons?”

“Uh-huh.”

I grin at my daughter, who’s now almost as tall as the pole. “Would you still … want to?”

She pulls out her phone. Searches for lessons. A whole slew of bright red circles fill the map on her screen.

“Mom. We should do it.”

“OK, but what we should really do is push-ups,” I lower myself to the kitchen floor, “to build up arm strength ― I don’t think it’s going to be as easy as she made it look.”

The buzzer sounds on the dryer. 

Amelia retrieves her warm T-shirt.

“Thanks,” she says.