Strutting back to body confidence

Against an ambient purple light with music blaring somewhere in the background, a woman’s hips snake from left to right, and her silhouette comes strutting towards me through a video on Instagram.

It stops me in my doom scrolling tracks.

This video is an advert for a Heels Empowerment class, and the caption promises by simply strapping yourself into a pair of stilettos and sensually moving your hips, you too could achieve body confidence.

It is fair to say, my body and I have a complicated relationship. In my teenage years, I obsessively counted calories and forced myself to exercise to the point of exhaustion so I could be ‘skinny’. I’ve since shaken these unhealthy habits but have yet to learn how to love my body as it is, and lockdown has only made it harder.

Apparently, I’m not alone in this. According to a recent study by Anglia Ruskin University, stress and anxiety related to the pandemic have been associated with increased negative body image. Another study by the Women’s Equality Committee also found 53% of adults and 58% of under 18s felt worse about their appearance because of lockdown.

You would think being cooped up with no pressure to look or act a certain way would be a relief for people with body image issues, but it seems more time spent alone and scrolling through social media has the opposite effect.

So, with the promise of being connected to my ‘inner diva’, I peeled myself off Instagram and booked my first Heels Empowerment dance class.

Heels Empowerment classes can be found in various forms across the UK, and all have the common goal of helping people be confident with their body through dancing in heels.

Tori Wood-Ives, a heels dance instructor in Yorkshire, has been following the movement since it began in L.A.

''These classes started popping up initially as training for models or dancers who had to wear heels for their job," she explained, "it was technical training on how to hold yourself and how to dance in high heels without injury."

But, after going to L.A to find out more about it, Tori discovered the classes were beginning to take on a theme of empowerment.

“As awful as it sounds, dancing in high heels was always associated with strippers and pole dancers,” she said, “but, these classes were about taking that power back and performing for yourself. It was about accepting the way your body moved and how different people's bodies moved.”

Geo in action:

In an article for the Guardian, Summer Brennan, a journalist and author of High Heel, said wearing heels made her feel powerful but in a “womanly way” and this is something I could relate to.

Geo and Tori also said wearing high heels made them feel elevated and transformed, and they saw the difference it made in their students too.

“When they put on the heel, they step into themselves, and there is this other side of them that they’re not even sure existed until it happened,” Tori said, “it’s beautiful to watch”.

Izzy, one of Geo's students, also agreed that wearing heels was a vital part of the change she saw in herself and said the classes wouldn't be the same without them.

Like Elizabeth, I was dubious of the idea that high heels could be a source of empowerment. I viewed them as an instrument of the patriarchy used to slow women down and render them immobile.

After speaking to her, it made me question whether the feelings of power I had when dancing in these shoes came from me or my ability to see myself as a sexual and desirable being for men.

But, like Tori and Geo said, these classes were about taking back control of that objectification for yourself as a form of self-love.

“Women are told they can be sexual, but not too sexual like it’s a spectrum and they’re only allowed to go so far down it,” Geo said, “but when they come through my door, they know it is a place where they can be whatever they want.”