Around the age of 10, I begged my mom to find me a dance class. I was playing Janet Jackson’s, “What Have You Done for Me Lately” on repeat and trying my hardest to copy the dance moves I’d memorized from watching the video on MTV (cue shoulder bops), and I knew I needed professional guidance to reach my true potential :)
A few weeks later, my mom happily announced that she had enrolled me in The Sunshine Generation. It sounded hokey, it was hokey, but to my 10 year old self – it was heaven! Quick side note, had my mom shown me the costume that I’d end up wearing for most of our performances, I might have demanded she find me a “cooler” dance class.
That would have been unfortunate though, because that little crew of would-be Broadway stars became my life line. The teacher, while I can’t remember her name now, was kind and nurturing and made me feel like I'd just earned a Tony after every performance.
I didn’t really get this back then, but dance was saving my life.
See, during this time, my grandfather was abusing me. My body, subjected to his unwanted touch, would freeze, shut down. I was starting to continue that numbing out by binge eating.
When I walked into the Sunshine Generation dance studio (a modest converted garage – oh Oklahoma, I love you so!), I felt every nerve tingle. As soon as the music would start, my body awoke! I would shake, shimmy, pirouette like my life depended on it.
Now, given everything I understand about how movement helps the body release toxic energy, I know it did! Furthermore, this time in dance allowed me moments to enjoy my body, to feel my body, to express myself given that I could not talk about what was happening.
From then on I was hooked -- every talent show you better believe I showed up with a dance performance --
from "Footloose"
to "Play Me That Mountain Music" (yes, those are some next generation Sunshiners sitting behind me - why did that costume never get any better!)
- if there was a chance to dance - I snagged it!
On my first day of high school (there was only one in our small town), I walked into homeroom and stopped in my tracks. There were a lot of new kids there!
It happened that these new kids were black. Looking back, it’s wild to notice how little I thought about racism and segregation (#privilege) and thus didn’t even realize how segregated my town was until that moment.
I wasn't thinking very deeply about it at the time. I just knew these were new kids - a break from the same ol' kids I'd been going to school with since kindergarten - and I wanted to know them.
Kameka, Terrence, Marco, and Tiffany will forever be in my debt for being my real teachers during this time. Our conversations opened my eyes to what they faced daily as people of color in our small town. They also introduced me to some amazing music ... Dr. Dre, Ice Cube, Solomon Burke, Wu-Tang Clan, Etta James, Naughty By Nature, Run DMC, Grandmaster Flash, Otis Redding, Sarah Vaughn…and so many more!
At sixteen, I got my first car – but it was really treated as a mobile DJ booth complete with car dancing all the way to the neighborhood canteen where we would make a b-line for the dance floor.
Kameka showed me how to loosen my hips and body roll. Marco showed me how to “play it cool” with a two step. Tiffany and I would do the cabbage patch until we broke down into giggles. Terrence didn’t dance – but he certainly taught me some things ;)
Off the dance floor, my mind was a constant swirl of negative thoughts, fears, and anxieties.
On the dance floor, my mind would go silent and I could just move and get lost in the music. This was a much needed reprieve from all of the overwhelming thoughts and feelings that my little 16 year old self just didn’t know what to do with.
During my first semester in college, I met Chris. I fell head over heels in love with him, but the relationships soon devolved into verbal, emotional, and physical abuse – and I mostly stopped dancing for 10 years!
When that relationship ended, it was like a re-awakening. One of the very first things I did was find a place to dance.
I wound up one night at ODC in the Mission and they had two rooms that night – one for lindy hop (damn you triple step!) and one for blues.
Imagine blues dancing as dirty dancing but with some form! My body softened, opened as I clumsily tried to get a handle on the moves – it felt like coming home.
Finally, a community of people who didn't think it was outrageous to dance until 2AM! Amongst those amazing people were Mark and Chachi.
They began to spur me on to audition for a local hip hop company, Freeplay Dance Crew.
I was in my early 30’s and thought there was no way I could do something like that! They wouldn’t let it go though, and so I did it – and thank god I did.
I could write a whole book on the ways in which my time with this rag tag crew of “professionals who dance, not professional dancers” impacted me.
What was most critical though was that the members of this group were mostly gay, lesbian, queer, trans, bisexual. Now, even though I had been in California for four years, I was still small town when it came to LGBTQ+ awareness – despite being bisexual myself!
See, for most of my life, I repressed that part of myself. Convinced it was just because I was abused by men so many times. Our conversations opened my eyes to the issues facing the LGBTQ+ community and helped me really embrace my own sexuality, too.
Fast forward to today, in the midst of a global health crisis, dance once again is helping me cope. When Josh, the former director of Freeplay, reached out about a virtual dance project, I was an immediate YES!
Our intention with the project was to, in Josh’s words, “use movement (and sound) to show that, even when we are separate, we are still all connected. There's a sadness to this project, yes, but ultimately a vision of hope in the strength of our individual and collective artistry and hearts.”
Check it out!!
Read more about the healing properties of dance!
What is one thing that has helped you deal with/survive the trauma you experienced?
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