Sometime in early December, 2014:
As I sit here pondering where I can get a good booty-shake on, I find myself, once again, thinking about taking my narrow, high-yellow a$$
down the street to Ecstatic Dance at the Sweets Ballroom in Oakland. This thought is followed by a very
frustrated:
“Goddammit! Why isn’t
there a Black Ecstatic Dance?”
Followed immediately by a somber:
“Oh, right, that’s called “A Night Out Dancing.”
Meh.
It’s my problem,
really.
There is nothing wrong with
Ecstatic Dance.
The originators of this
event have created a really good thing: a space in which one is free to explore
this incredible expression of human form, called “dance.”
The fact that 95% of the folks who attend this event are white is merely a commentary on how our *dominant* American culture has managed to turn something beautiful and uniquely expressive into something coarse, dirty, and sinful. "Footloose," anyone? Or what about "Dirty Dancing?" The by-product of this cultural programming? All of the coarse, dirty and sinful expression that has been pent up in our *dominant* culture for years and years and years has come out in the form of wild abandon, inconsideration for one's fellow dancer and...Contact Improv. What is Contact Improv you ask? Others will tell you different, but simply put, it is a style of movement that legitimizes for white folks all of that bumping and grinding on the dance floor that black ppl have been doing for yeeeeaars! Seriously: one time in college, the dance got so
heated that when folks walked off the floor after a particularly *hot*
set, I saw one dude with a wet stain on the front of his pants. OK OK OK, to be fair, there is absolutely nothing in the Contact Improv manual that says anything about Contact Improv having anything to do with our innate sexuality and raunchiness. (snicker.)
Dancing is, in a word: AWESOME.
When I see dance done really well, like Alvin
Ailey well, or even
In Living Color “Fly Girl” well, I can get mesmerized.
And although I wouldn't necessarily say that the dancing that goes on at Ecstatic Dance is "dance done really well," or even particularly inspiring, i will say this: for me, Ecstatic Dance is a catalyst for free expression, and who doesn't need more of that in their lives?
Ever since I can remember, there has been a divide in my
world that runs straight down color lines when it comes to dancing.
Quite simply: black ppl can dance, white pp
cannot.
And that is not to say white ppl
cannot dance at ALL, no-way, no-how.
Because you see, there’s Polka, Waltz, and Ball dancing. There is also swing dancing and country too!
I
myself was brought up on Swedish line dancing and can do a mean Holiday line
dance that takes the entire party through the entire house!
What it means is that white ppl don’t have the
Milkshake in their dance; simply put: they don't have what it takes to "..
bring all the boys to the yard.” i could teach you, but i'd have to charge.
And while we can all agree that the above statement is indeed an oversimplification, a generalization, and
we could go back and forth about whether this statement is statistically “true” and if
so, why, let’s just scrap all that
for sake of getting to the point:
in
my
world growing up, I learned to dance by frequenting the black clubs in Denver, with
my black girlfriends, where black music was played.
And when I say black music, I mean, like,
rhythm and blues, disco, soul, hip-hop, that kind of stuff.
So I was able to exorcise a modicum of what I
will refer to as “rhythm” out of this-here body, even growing up in my
fairly-well-white-washed environment.
Same theme in college at the University of Arizona, things were fairly segregated: there were white frats, black
frats, and parties/music that ran along color lines. I was not a soror, but I was an athlete with
brown skin, so I defaulted to the dark side.
Plus, by the time I entered my first year in college, I had clearly
chosen a side, at least insofar as my sexual relations were concerned - or should I say the side chose me: I had my first-ever boyfriend as a high school senior and he was black. Since black chose me, I said yes. well, kind of, but that's a different blog.
What creates the conditions under which one feels free to
express themselves, fully?
Fully, fully,
fully, without abandon?
The answer for me is: a felt sense of safety.
Safety from what?
The easiest answer would be from judgment –
because ultimately, to judge is to condemn is to be “outcast” from your clan, and who
wants to be outcast?
Except of course,
OutKast.
The point is this: I express myself fully under conditions in which I feel no fear of being “cast-out.”
I am pretty certain to some degree, this feeling is universal, since we are social
creatures.
However, by dancing - among other things - I have
come to find out that this particular *fear* is a fabrication of my imagination, borne from the environment in which I am steeped that
constantly bombards me with messages that not only am I "other,"
but my "otherness" is the
wrong kind of "other." When I express myself with dance, it is more than just a lack of separation; it is a fullness too, of EVERYTHING.
Here is the rub: dancing as I did in a circle of black women just a few short weeks ago (read about that
here), I felt awkward and other. Here, at Ecstatic Dance, I feel invisible, if not illuminated from the inside-out.
12/31/2014, 9:00 p.m.
Here we are, NYE 2014. And here i am, Ecstatic Dance, Oakland, California, USA. I am excited to be here, out, by myself and ready to express 2015 into being! When right in front of me, i witness two Contact Improv dancers getting super-personal. And its not even 9:30 yet....jeezus, save something for the grand finale, whydontcha?!? I look the other way. Until i hear what sounds like the woman having an extremely involved orgasm. I look over. She is down on the floor, straddling his legs. He is holding her, gripping her, I dont know, "taking in" her orgasm? I look away and let them have their private moment - in public. Like i said, it's really my problem. And im not getting laid.
10:00 p.m.
I have been dancing for almost an hour and I feel great! I feel self-expressed and free. And, I also notice a fairly large ( 3 - 4) group of brown and black women in the front right corner of the stage, next to the speaker. At first i grip: are they judging me? When I realize my own projection, I go back to minding my own business, and I am so pleased that they are here!
I see the contact improv dancers of earlier - they are apparently now in Phase II of their dance. I notice that she is very bald and wonder briefly if perhaps she has terminal cancer and is doing all of the things she never, ever did and doesn't want to regret not doing now that her time on Earth is suddenly shortened. I know this is a morbid thought, but based on this NEW story, I feel guilty for being so judgmental about her PDA's earlier and begin dancing next to them in an attempt to neurtalize their sexual energy so that nobody else is as bothered as i am. Instead i am reminded again that i am not getting laid.
11:45 p.m.
There are very good drummers here now and I am up in front letting the holy spirit move through me. Yes I have taken some African dance lessons before, but this is the moment when self-expression takes on a life of its own, and the music moves me! It is as if my body knows what to do, how to move, as long as I am willing to "let go." Which is something that i find most difficult. I'm a gripper.
 |
This is a Fenton's Black and Tan and I can
devour the entire confection on my own.
|
January 1, 2015 12:02 a.m.
I want chocolate. Lots 'n lots of chocolate. And caramel too! Oh, and whipped cream....something like a
Fenton's Black and Tan.
I remember that its now midnight and Fenton's is not open at this hour.
DAMN U FENTONS!!!! (shakes angry, weary fist at Fenton's).
The female contact improv dancer of earlier has chosen a new partner...I am wondering if she did indeed save herself for the finale.
12:15 a.m.
A new d.j. takes over who will going until 2a.m. I wonder: do I have just *one more* dance in me? no.
12:25 a.m.
Quick stop at the 7-11 for Ben n Jerry's.
12:35 a.m.
FYI - Ben 'n Jerry's new "
Karamel Sutra Core" ice cream is a rip-off as the caramel "Core" only goes 1/2 way down the container. Bad Karma for Ben 'n Jerry. :o/
January 1, 2015:
This is going to be a good one.
