Choosing My Voices

Why are you doing this? It’s a big waste of time. You have too many other things to take care of. You should be grading papers. You should be writing important things, big things. You should be trying to make a buck to improve your family’s life.

You’re an embarrassment. Do you really want strangers seeing you dance badly? Do you want this on your permanent record? Do you want this to come back and haunt you some day?

Can’t you just hear the questions: Don’t you think that was poor judgment on your part, to post photos of yourself dancing on Youtube? Don’t you think you’re too old for that kind of nonsense?

Well, if I listened to these voices I would probably have quit already.

I’ve got news for you Depression. There’s a new boss in town and she’s calling the shots.

I know the voices I choose to listen to today. The voices that tell me to have fun and celebrate life, to do what makes my heart sing, to express myself, to find joy in the moment and in movement.

I will dance. I will celebrate my life and my body. I will be the person I choose to be.

A Mom's Search for Meaning

I just finished listening to “A Man’s Search for Meaning” by Victor E. Frankl as an audio book. I had read it when I was getting my MFA.

My psychiatrist had recommended I read it again. He’s been pushing me to find deeper meaning for my life, to transcend my self and self-actualize.

I think a big part of me fights the idea that my deeper meaning and transcendence should come from some inherent joy I should receive from being a mother, a wife, because I always feel like those things aren’t “important” enough in some way.

I understand it though. If I base my happiness and meaning on outer rewards like writing a successful and popular book, then I’m just being goal-oriented.

)

If I can find deeper meaning and fulfillment from my lot in life right now, then I have a greater chance of feeling full rather than depressed. But I also know that I don’t feel personally satisfied or complete with being “just” a mom. Perhaps I have some deeply ingrained ideas that being a mother isn’t really important or honored in the world. Perhaps I don’t see being a mom as important.

I am very happy to be a mother. I want to embrace this role as much as possible, but I also have to be true to those deeper rumblings, which tell me I need to dance or sing or perform or write or whatever.

I need these activities, these pursuits, for me.

I will make room for me in my life. I will say that what I desire is important.

Side note. Isn’t it interesting that after watching my video from today that I feel the need to defend my belly? I had to keep telling myself to look away from the belly while watching. I know, now that I’ve drawn attention to it, you won’t be able to look away either.

But why do I feel the need to defend it? All my thoughts flying through my brain: I wish that I had not worn a short top that exposed my belly. I should have realized my belly would look wobbly and been more thoughtful to my viewers and covered it up. But I’ve had three babies and I haven’t been working out. Will people be disappointed in me for not having abs of steel? Will be people be disappointed in me for caring I don’t have abs of steel?

Why must I judge myself even when I’m having fun?

It’s interesting. And I’m proud of myself for seeing my issue that way. As something interesting to note and wonder about.

Gotta Give What I've Got

Today was the first day that my mind upped its game and started whispering destructive thoughts in my head.

I was quick to shut down the unhelpful and unhealthy words though. I sent them packing. And while I could still feel their rumblings of negativity in my blood, I was able to focus my more conscious thoughts on my day ahead.

I’m not sure if it’s cause and effect or just a building up of stress, but I’ve been noticing over the last few days a sense of overwhelm. I have so many projects and responsibilities resting upon my shoulders right now that I do not have enough time to give all the things time that deserve and demand my attention.

I know I only have so much to give, but I keep wanting to do more and accomplish more, especially when I have made promises to people.

)

My friend Marion Loguidice’s song Gotta Give What You Got popped into my head today as a good anthem for myself. I need to give what I have while I can, but I also need to give to myself. As a mom, this often gets pushed to the back of the stove.

I’ll only have a little bit to give if I don’t take care of myself.

I've Got To Get Up and Try

I dialed it down a notch today; I’m feeling like my body isn’t quite ready for Lady Gaga. I returned to my yoga roots and let myself flow through my morning madness. I trusted in the radio to provide me with a good song and Pink’s “Try” was perfect.

I focused on the words: You've gotta get up and try, and try, and try.

Pull myself up by the bootstraps. Live one day at a time. And all that crap.

)

Sentimental, corny, and true.

Some days it’s about getting up, dealing with the four kittens that were born in my dining room that night, getting the kids fed, dressed and to school, writing, preparing lesson plans, grading and going to work.

And making sure I give myself at least those five minutes to dance or sing or stretch or whatever makes me feel good and alive.

But is it enough to sustain me throughout an entire day? How long can I make the good feelings last?

Rage, Body Image Issues and Bad Romance

Rage is a new feeling for me and it scares me because it makes me imagine what it must be like for other people whose rage is even stronger than mine.

I yelled at Tommy this weekend because he wanted water after bedtime even though he’d already said he didn’t want any. My exhaustion didn’t want me to get up and get it for him.

So I yelled. Loudly.

I am so mad at you.

His little feet padding away down the hallway sipping at his little turtle cup.

You are so rude!

This little three-year-old being. A deep, but not rational, part of me thinks he’s trying to get away with something. It’s a power play and I shouldn’t give in. And he’s starting to scream again after a good half-an-hour of yelling at bedtime. And that’s why I screamed.

I’m so tired. I’ve got nothing left inside me.

Must these bursts of rage be a part of my life without antidepressants? Are they normal?

I must admit I was looking forward to my dancing today. I’m already enjoying the “me” time. I dance just for me. And to feel joy or whatever strong emotions I can shake out of my being.

An interesting phenomenon arose today after I viewed my video of me dancing to Lady Gaga’s Bad Romance.

I noticed not only the joyfulness of my dancing, but I noticed the negatives, too. I saw how my arms are out of shape and kind of wobbly. I saw my funny faces that I’m sure people will laugh at and judge. I saw some dance moves that looked a bit suggestive and silly.

But on the bright side, I also noticed how quickly I was able to say, so what?

This dancing thing is for me. For me to fight my depression. And to learn more about myself.

One big thing I learned today, I am not in great physical shape. After dancing, I had a coughing fit and some serious lung ache.

How in the world do performers dance all-out AND sing at the same time, for goodness’ sake?

This is me. These are my issues. Welcome to my world.

Fight Depression with Passion

Passion is the key word. This is what I want in my life.

The more closely aligned I am to this feeling for more and more of my days, I believe I will be slashing away at my depression.

Passion is like the antidote to depression, but of course, the problem arises when I cannot even dream about living in passion because depression has deadened me so much.

This is why I need to start big at first. I need to make myself do something that is so passion-filled that I cannot but help feel a bit better, which for me is expressive dancing (or dancing like a crazy head).

And truly the only way I think I can guarantee I will engage in that passion-filled dancing is if I make it a must instead of a should. That is why I need to videotape it and include it here. This is like my daily weigh-in, only it’s a am-I-doing-all-I-can-for-myself-to-be-healthy-today-in.

This blog will act as my reminder that I have made a promise to myself, to fight depression with fire.

The experiment then becomes, is that enough to keep me true to myself? And can dancing with all my heart to one song a day actually help me battle my depression and live life fully?

Push Myself Into Joy

I’ve been off antidepressants for almost a month now. The euphoria of experiencing real joy, laughter and happy emotions is wearing off already. At first, as my body and mind cleared of the medication fog I’ve come to know as my normal state of being, I saw things brighter, laughed heartier and felt optimistic beyond my greatest imaginings.

Suddenly, writing projects that I had to force myself to work on took on new importance, new urgency.

The joys I was experiencing were enough to make the equally strong difficult emotions that were arising seem not so bad. Yes, I was having bursts of anger and rage jump from my being with no filter, but that was to be expected. At least I was experiencing my emotions outwardly as opposed to what I’d become accustomed to—only depression and always projected inwardly.

But the heavy thoughts are returning already. They are trying to take over, trying to show me who’s boss. The depression is slinking in through the cracks, building momentum as I lose my forward thrust through life. I feel it in my bones.

I know I can always return to meds if it gets as bad as it has in the past, but I want to try something else first.

I realize that I have to be proactive every day. It is not enough to want to be happy for someone who suffers from depression. At least not for me.

I have to push myself into joy every day. I have to choose joy to show my depression who’s really boss.

I’ve tried this in many ways in the past, but never succeeded for very long, so I’ve been asking myself what really brings me joy. What am I missing from my life?

Something that keeps coming up is that I miss performing. I miss expressing myself through my body, through my voice, through my energy. When I am teaching writing or yoga, I enter into that blissful place of non-time. I love connecting with an audience; I love inspiring others to feel and find joy.

And I do love to dance and to sing. Even though I am not trained. Even though I don’t know the “right” way to do these things. I do know they bring me joy. And I want more joy in my life.

So, this is my experiment. I will share here on my blog, once a day, me finding my joy, pushing myself into my joy.

It may be embarrassing, but I don’t care. This is what I teach my students to do. This is what I need to do.

Push myself into my joy, even if it means stepping outside of my comfort zone. No more living life small and depressed. No more caring what others think.

I choose joy today. (And hopefully tomorrow I will convince myself to find joy once more.)

I am freaking awesome just the way I am

I remember the first time I heard Lorde’s song Royals on the radio, before anyone knew who she was; I said to myself, This woman is going to be famous.

When I learned she was only seventeen, I was blown away.

Seeing such talent in young women usually gives me two mixed reactions: 1) I feel like anything is possible and there is still great art and expression to be made by others and myself, and 2) I feel like I am way too old to have any impact in the world with my creativity and I might as well roll over and let the young people talk to the world.

Then I sober up emotionally and intellectually and realize there’s room for all our voices. The “Lordes” and the “me’s.”

It’s imperative to hear what the youth, who are experiencing the American culture upfront and loud make of it, but it’s also important to hear the balance and hindsight of our older voices.

Us.

The ones who have actually been saying “I'm kind of over gettin' told to throw my hands up in the air” for years or even decades.

Witnessing a seventeen-year-old taking risks and feeling like she has the right and audacity to say what’s she sick of in our popular culture, then maybe I can use her as inspiration to voice my own upset as a forty-two-year-old.

I definitely am over being told to throw my hands up in the air. I’m tired of being told to always be happy and carefree. But what I’m really over is being told what I‘m supposed to be and look like in so many hidden and not-so-hidden messages.

And it’s that special time of year again when the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition makes its debut on the newsstands. Showing us again that no matter what we say about women’s bodies, the ones that get celebrated publicly are the ones that fit a certain beauty ideal.

But you know what? I'm kind of over getting told to push my boobs up in the air.

So there.

I’m kind of over trying to live up to our culture’s beauty ideal, of worrying whether my thighs are thundering, of checking my butt in the mirror before I walk out the door.

I’m kind of over big boobs being worshipped.

That’s it.

I’m changing my life today.

I will no longer care what other people think.

I will live my life the way I choose and have no regrets.

I will teach yoga and writing in my own unique way, which will not please everyone, but I don’t care. I’m an awesome teacher and I make a difference in many people’s lives.

I will dance as if no one is watching, even when someone is.

I will sing loud even if people cover their ears.

I will write about the issues important to me.

I’m done with playing small in life. Except when it comes to my breasts. They are small and they are beautiful.

I’m done with never feeling good enough. I’m done with getting down on myself for not being perfect.

Today I take my stand.

I am freaking awesome just the way I am.

Some people will love me and some will hate me. It doesn’t matter either way.

I feel it. I know what’s important. Just like most of the women in our culture know it sometimes.

But I want to live it. Every day. I want to know it every day.

I AM beautiful just the way I am. I am worthy. I am important.

I hereby give myself permission to love my body, my life and myself. Little boobs and all.

Won’t you join me and say enough is enough already?

What are YOU over? What is holding you back from fully loving yourself and your life? Turn it on its head.

Let’s take back our self-esteem and our lives.

Let’s proudly show the world the women that we are. The women that should be—and can be—celebrated. 

But we need to make that choice before anyone else will make it for us. We need to demand the world change to reflect what we want to see.

I'm old enough and wise enough now to not be too proud to admit that I need to remind myself every day that I am worthy. That I am freaking awesome just the way I am.

Let's be the women who make that change so that our daughters won't need to remind themselves of that ever.

Strip Tease Was About More Than Sexual Fantasy

This article in The New York Post, Fantasy-selling strip clubs must pay taxes: judge, reminds me of a similar case in upstate New York last year.

Women take the stage at the Hustler Club.                                   Photo: Getty Images

In both clubs, the management argued they shouldn't have to pay taxes because of an old law on the books, which allows establishments to not pay taxes for “live dramatic, choreographic or musical performance.”

I can totally see how a strip club would try to snake by on this law.

And as I have discussed before, there are certain strippers, who on certain days, really are "dramatic" entertainers.

But let's get real. Even when I had an amazing dramatic performance as a stripper, I knew what most of the men were there for.

Wait a minute. I can't believe I'm backtracking. A lot of customers were certainly not there for a "choreographic" performance, but they were there for much more than just "sexual fantasy."

The customers came to have someone to talk to. To have friends to hang out with. To feel like they were worthy of being talked to by others. To waste time. To find time. To drown their sorrows. To forget life for a while. To live. To be seen. To disappear.

Some of the same reasons I was there.

And, yes. For some of us, when we went up onstage, under the rosy lights when time stood still, we were there to perform. To become sexual fantasies. To become seen and loved and adored from afar. From near.

Sheila Hageman as Kirea at The Blue Angel, NYC

We were human.

The customers. And me.

My Open Letter to Victoria's Secret

Here's my latest Huffington Post blog about the controversy surrounding a woman who was not allowed to breastfeed inside a Victoria's Secret store.

I mean, really? Please someone tell me that's not a store policy.

Read more here: An Open Letter to Victoria's Secret...

My Five-Minute Breaks from Feminism

When I saw this headline from The Onion, Woman Takes Short Half-Hour Break From Being Feminist To Enjoy TV Show, I laughed and cringed at the same time.

PORTLAND, OR—Saying that she just wanted a little time to relax and “not even think about” confining gender stereotypes, local health care industry consultant Natalie Jenkins reportedly took a 30-minute break from being a feminist last night to kick back and enjoy a television program. 

Jenkins, 29, told reporters that after a long and tiring day at her office, all she wanted to do was return home, sit down on her couch, turn on an episode of the TLC reality show Say Yes To The Dress, and treat herself to a brief half hour in which she could look past all the various and near constant ways popular culture undermines the progress of women.

I immediately got a guilty/funny flash in my tummy.

From The Onion

Umm, hee, hee…I’m a feminist, but umm…I kind of like to, well…

I get a divine rush of—oh my God, how could she?!—when I read about what Kim Kardashian wore or did.

My fingers tremble to reach out and pick up that copy of People at the grocery store checkout to find out if Jennifer Aniston is finally pregnant.

I secretly dream I have huge breasts and wear push-up bras and low-cut sweaters.

I like how my legs look when I wear heels.

I wish my wrinkles would magically disappear overnight.

I swoon when my husband opens the car door for me.

I enjoy Miley Cyrus’ Wrecking Ball song and video.

And yes, even though the lyrics can be seen as kind of “rapey” and women are being objectified, I don’t turn the channel when Robin Thicke’s Blurred Lines is on the radio (unless my kids are in the car).

Phew. I feel better after my little confession.

Now back to the originally scheduled Sheila.

What are your dirty, not-fighting-the-fight secrets that you do not want anyone to know?

Come on…I dare you…

Performer Sexual Integrity

The Daily Mail has a thought-provoking article today: Now opera gets sexy: Singer who stripped down to a leopard-print leotard says performers SHOULD embrace their sexuality (just not 'desperate' Miley Cyrus) by Leon Watson.

@Alastair Muir

The opera performer Danielle de Niese who is appearing in Francesco Cavalli's bawdy opera La Calisto at the Bayerische Staatsoper in Munich, Germany, explains that her appearance in La Calisto is different from a performance like Miley’s.

“She claimed she only strips down when she has 'artistic integrity.'

 Cyrus, she says, is trying to 'break free from her previous image.’”

de Niese explains that she believes there is a difference to sexually charged performances that have to do with the purpose of the performance.

I agree heartily with the idea that it is important for women to embrace their sexuality and their own sexual identity. The purpose for performing in a sexual way or stripping down on stage can make the difference between something being seen as crass and desperate or beautiful and meaningful.

Of course, it is hard to read a person’s mind when they are performing. Yes, we might say Miley Cyrus’ performances seem to have to do with creating a new image, but who are we to say that is wrong?

Yes, it all may be a carefully crafted marketing strategy, but how do we know if she feels sexually liberated? Only the person behind the performance can really know if what they are doing has integrity or not.

I believe an opera singer and a pop singer may have artistic integrity in their sexually alive performances.

I find myself deeply exploring the idea of my own expressed-sexuality lately. After many years of turning my back on my stripper/nude model former self, I find myself wanting to return to the roots of that identity that really were supportive and empowering. I have focused so much on the negatives of stripping, I feel myself wanting to reconnect to myself as a “performer” and what that really means to me.

Kvon Photography

Who decides what is appropriate representation versus negative for each of us? I can only answer to my own thoughts about what is integrity-filled for me today.

I want to explore that performer part of myself again, but on my own terms this time.

Can Stripping Be Empowering?

A video segment I appeared in for Huffington Post has been posted on AOL Jobs, Can Strip Clubs Be Places Of Empowerment?

Watching it just made me realize how ANY place can be a place of empowerment, but sometimes only after the fact.

I didn't feel too empowered when men were belittling me back then, but I do feel empowered that I survived and managed to not be too bitter.

It's all in what we make of what happens in our lives...

Ed Miliband On Page 3 and Topless Women

Ed Miliband  - The Huffington Post

Things are a changing, world.

The No More Page 3 Campaign in England is really showing how to create change. 

Start the conversation and it will spread.

There is no place in the modern world for pictures of topless women in newspapers like The Sun, Ed Miliband sensationally said today. 

But the Labour leader said he will not ban Page 3 pin-ups if he becomes prime minister after the 2015 general election.

This article on the Huffington Post UK uses a quote by me...

Blogging exclusively for The Huffington Post UK, a former topless model also advocated highlighting women's talents and abilities in the Sun, rather than just their flesh. 

"When I was 18, I used nude modeling as a way to earn money to support my acting career," wrote author and mum of three Sheila Hageman. 

"Was I thrilled and empowered by my job? Some days and jobs, yes, but the majority of my time was spent consumed by inner conflict about my choice. 

"Just because an attractive woman decides to pose topless does not mean she's happy about it," she wrote.

I've been rethinking my past a lot lately. I am trying to come to new acceptance for myself and looking for ways to embrace my sexuality, which I feel sometimes I cut off when I left the adult entertainment business.

There is most definitely a place for sexy, but it is not in a daily newspaper.

Get Naked in Seattle

Yanhong Ma’s “Venice Hotel,” 2012.

I wish I was in Seattle to see this exhibit called "Get Naked," as reviewed in the Seattle Times.

“Get Naked,” at Bryan Ohno Gallery in Seattle, comprises works by eight women who depict their own and others’ bodies in ways that are honest, graphic and elusive, writes reviewer Gayle Clemans.

I go back and forth in my mind about how and what I feel the need to express about the way women's bodies are represented.

I feel like there's something inside of myself. Something to be expressed.

I'm glad there are other women out there actually doing it--exploring female imagery in relation to sexuality and power.

I'm getting a creative itch that I don't yet know how to scratch.

Stripper is so hot, she sets off fire alarm!

Photo of Go Go Amy via http://news.stv.tv/

Stripping can be a dangerous act, as the people at the Dundee Tattoo Convention would have you know. A burlesque dancer by the name of Go Go Amy set off the smoke alarm when she blew her flaming tassels out.

Ah, yes.

I remember the days when my flaming tassels would set off the smoke alarm.

OK, well, maybe not, but I do remember when I danced at The Blue Angel (aka Fallen Angel) that one particular performer used to set the red curtain behind the stage on fire at least once a week. This would happen in a tiny basement club with just one door out the front. If you were in the dressing room when the place was about to burst into flames, you were out of luck.

The joys of my former life.

Sexual Objectification in American Apparel Must Be the Biggest Joke Played On Us EVER!

American Apparel Unisex Flannels...Hey, it's a flannel...button up!

American Apparel likes to push the envelope in their advertising.

And by "push the envelope" I mean they like to see just how much they can sexually objectify women in their advertising to get attention for their brand, but not push it so far as to lose their female customers.

But what I find so interesting is that it feels like they're mocking their customers with some sick joke to see just how glaring they can make their scheme before someone says--What the @#$%?!

Well, Business Insider's "American Apparel's 'Unisex' Ads Portray Men And Women Very Differently," was just enough to push my envelope into the--You're joking, right, American Apparel?!

The blatant sexual objectification of women wearing flannel shirts in all sorts of sexy, come-hither poses is absurd and demeaning next to the shots of male models wearing the same types of shirts all buttoned up and shown in normal day-to-day human activities.

Hey...What did I do with my pants?

They may argue it's "Art," but to me it just seems ridiculous.

Let's smoke and wear pants with our flannels! You know, because we're men!

I can't be the only one like--what are they trying to prove? Why would women buy from a company that thinks it's fine to let men have personalities and women only have sexuality?

You know you want to buy this jacket, ladies...

I mean, come on. Enough already.

Hey dudes, like my keen jacket?

It's got to be a joke, right?

Right?!

This is My Body

Photo of San Francisco protesters by PolicyMic

Some really cool events stirring around in the media this week.

The first was a protest in front of a Victoria’s Secret store in San Francisco by a group called About-Face who promote a healthy body image. Policy Mic’s article, Protesters Strip Down In Front Of Victoria'sSecret To Promote a Healthy Body Image, reported on the event:

The protesters — including one male participant — gathered in front of the storefront and striped down into bras and underwear; their message was that "not everybody needs to be like that in order to be attractive, in order to be awesome in general," said Jennifer Berger, Executive Director of About-Face.

I just love this idea. How wonderful to see the looks of joy and adventure on the faces of those protesting. This seems like the richest way to talk back to advertisements and ideologies we do not agree with—show the truth.

A healthy body image begins with embracing the bodies we have, not trying to fit the ideals created by others.

In line with that, South Bay mother promotes positive bodyimage with Facebook page, is another example of a woman staking claim to her beauty. Jessy Kissinger is a mom who started a Facebook page for moms to post pictures of themselves in their bikinis. No matter what size they wear.

Kissinger told KTVU she is happy and is looking forward to taking her two children to the beach this summer without wearing a cover-up.

Wouldn’t it be radical if we all felt so awesome about ourselves that what our bodies look like would not be our main concern? Just think about how much extra energy we would have for other adventures in life.

Feminist Stripper!

Photo of Feminist Stripper

I discovered a couple of interesting references to myself.

I've made the big time; I'm in Wikipedia. Pretty funny--that's the site I tell my students to never trust!

I'm included as a "Noted Feminist Stripper" for the Feminist Strippers category. I think I like that title.

Also, I feel enormously proud to be included with this list of amazing recommended women memoirists at Women For One.

Stripper Displays Her Large...Bills

For all you wanna-be strippers out there who read the Huffington Post's piece, Stripper Posts Picture Of Night's Tips To Reddit; Internet Asks, 'Where Do We Sign Up?',don't get all excited by this stripper's take...read the fine print!

"Menagerii" clearly states she worked a double (15 hours in heels, folks!) and that she doesn't usually earn that much.

But if you're interested in learning what it takes to be successful, here is her advice:

"You have to be in good shape, quick witted, confident, and have a pretty face. Everything else follows," she wrote.

I find it interesting to read people's comments following the articles written about this story. It seems most responses fall into one of a few categories: the snarky--Damn! I should be a stripper!, or the superior moralistic--Strippers are nothing more than whores!

I sit and ponder and really wonder...don't we all do some form of work for money, for pay? Why is using one's brain inherently better than using one's body?