Ava Adore

Why I Do It: Part II: Emotional.

PART TWO: Emotional: ‘I’m Breaking Free, I’m Breaking Through.’
Answering, “So, why are you a stripper?”

“There’s been so much emotional upheaval, it’s enough to put anyone on their knees. Except instead of letting someone trip you by yanking the rug away, you grab a pole. You’re a fighter… and you fight in six inch heels.” —A former close friend.

Dancing has always been an outlet for me. Hip hop, salsa, pole—it doesn’t matter. It’s for me what running is for some other people. It’s meditation. It’s restoration. It’s salvation.

I’ve been through a lot in my life. I’m sure we all have. But I’m a lover, not a fighter, unless I’m fighting over what I love. I live the knight’s code: loyalty, valour, honesty, honour, and faith. I will literally fight for those I love and for those who cannot fight for themselves.

But I can’t seem to fight for myself. Again, I mean this literally. I’m too much the ‘turn the other cheek’ person, the ‘bury it and deal with it’ person. So when life throws heavy shit at me, and I don’t throw punches, I’ve got to work off the emotions somewhere.

For me, that’s the dancefloor. The House is just another dancefloor. It gives me strength. I can lose myself in the music and I don’t see anyone else. Everything just flows. I feel so connected—so at peace—when I dance, that I couldn’t imagine another outlet.

The funny thing is, when I’m on stage, it’s a very solitary experience. Sure, you’re supposed to look at the guys, and sometimes I do, but if I do, I’m looking through them; I don’t really see them. People will come in and out and I don’t even notice until I step off.

Off-stage is time for their bullshit. On stage, it’s just me.

Everything that’s ever hurt me, I leave it on that dancefloor. Every heartbreak, every liar, every death, every helpless moment, every caged emotion. I leave it there. Like a mosh pit at a concert, you don’t go to leave blood behind: you go to leave the pain.