ABOVE ALL, I WANT MY STUDENTS TO KNOW THEY HAVE THE RIGHT TO WIELD THE POWER OF NO .
to teach my Cardio dance class, getting a workout in after, sneaking a lunch, run- ning across the city to teach at the univer- sity, or to East Oakland to teach kids, to finally arrive home at 10pm. This was my regular weekly schedule. This was normal, for me and for all the freelancers I know. The uncertainty around the “first act” of the pandemic really put things into perspective for me. Everyone wanted to persist . My emails were full of invitations to teach dance over Zoom, to rehearse, to perform—to keep working. At first, I wanted to, but after a few weeks, I realized that I had to say No for my own sanity, especially since it seemed like people didn’t understand that though they were not physically in my house, their energy was. My home is my retreat, my sacred space and, quite frankly, not everyone is welcome there. Standing up for yourself in a field that insists we should feel “lucky” to be working at all can be daunting. Does a secretary feel lucky to take a message? No, that’s their job. Does a surgeon feel lucky to perform a surgery? I don’t believe so. Does an architect feel lucky to design a build- ing? I doubt it. They were hired to do so. I would offer that the choreographer is lucky to have dancers interested in doing their work. Saying No can be particularly daunting when you are Black and Queer as well. Systemic oppression in the dance field is ever present, along with tokenism, misogyny, biphobia, and homophobia from both straight and other
queer identifying people. As a Black person, I am condi- tioned to cherish every experience to dance as if it were my last. This is inherited—I am constantly reminded of the impermanence of my existence and lack of access to resources in this country, historically and today. I am often second guessed, tested, pigeonholed, but I’ve been trained to accept the unacceptable because I know what it’s like to be without work.
I am reclaiming my time. —CONGRESSWOMAN “AUNTIE” MAXINE WATERS
Dance is a constant psychological game of being an expert over my body, yet having very little agency over it. Whenever I’ve engaged in Western and European based dance forms as a professional dancer, I’ve offered my body to the ideas of others. There is a lot of power in being in the front of the room. And every time I have committed to a process, I’ve had to place a certain amount of trust in the choreographer. It’s an exchange that is programmed in me as part of the equation in the creative process. But what do we do when that trust is tarnished? How can we “reclaim our time,” energy, and mental and physical health?
SUMMER 2021 in dance 33
Made with FlippingBook - Online Brochure Maker