We are living in exciting, overwhelming, and inspiring times. One of the gifts this pandemic has given is a bright light on social structures in an undeniable way. Ok, yes some are in denial but I will discuss that phenomenon next month. We are waking up to the hierarchal structures of our worlds and how we have knowingly or unknowingly participated. Our awareness is expanding to include (hopefully) people we don’t cross paths with in a more collective understanding of our diversity of experiences. I know that’s the optimistic take, but I’m gonna stay rooted in that as the way forward. Stay with me here if you can. This process is also happening at a time when people are losing loved ones, careers, friends, ways of life, ways of knowing. To say our systems are overwhelmed would be an incredible understatement. But it has also given us potentially the time and conviction to sit in our uncomfortableness, learn and grow, and move into action to change how we participate, who we support, and how we engage with our communities. So that we can reimagine a future of inclusion and celebration of our diversity. All of us have been working on this in differing ways. I see you. Thank you for everything you are doing, big or small. My own process through this has been an organic unfolding over the years mainly inspired by my own maturing and unpacking of self. I do feel for collective healing and growth this is where so much of the work has to happen. And thankfully it is an ongoing process so we just get to keep learning.
I am going to speak about this from the dance perspective, but this can be applied to so many differing fields. I came into bellydance (and I use that term specifically here because it was an American colonialist, racist, and sexist form) when I started college. I had been a dancer my whole young life and was still actively training in jazz (there’s a whole other conversation that I could talk about here), tap (yup here too), hiphop (oh yeah), ballet (yes here too), and musical theatre (haha, you get the idea). As an Asian American whom grew up in a little Pacific Northwest town, I had very little experience with Arabic culture. One of my dear friends in high school was from Iraqi, but like any of us that didn’t fit the American stereotype we quieted our otherness as much as possible. The music was completely new to me. The moves more challenging than anything I had come across in dance (internalization and subtly as foreign as could be for this 17 year old.) And the confidence the dancers had…my eyes were wide in wonder and awe. This dance became a way to find home in myself, appreciate my body finally for what it was instead of judging it constantly for what it was not (hello classical and commercial dance influence). My teacher, Jennifer McIntyre aka Sahira, groomed me quickly for performing, gigs, and bellygrams (cuz that was a thing then). And I loved all of it. Well actually every step out of myself and into the public terrified me, but I did it and grew every step of the way. I busked during the summer with my little rug, stereo, and basket for tips. Saved up enough to buy my first “pro” costume which would now be considered a student quality. And made everything else myself from photographs and drawings other dancers shared. Bellydance gave me a community of amazingly different people I would never have come across otherwise and got me to lift my nose out of the books and explore. It was a way for me to examine femininity and esteem in a whole new way. By the age of 20, I was writing up proposals for businesses to include entertainment contracts and walking into establishments determined to find a way to book a show. I finished my degree in zoology and chemistry, but dance had my full heart and devotion. So it is to no surprise in hindsight that I freaked out shortly before starting vet school because I could not get into a dance class. I finally had to own up to the fact dance was my path in a way I hadn’t clearly recognized. This dance has given me so much. And even though that early version was heavily flawed, the gifts were real and embedded in something bigger. And this is where I want to pause.
As we learn and understand about the distortion of a cultural art that has had a profound effect on our lives, we can often be confronted with heavy emotions of shame and guilt that can leave a mark of ick on the very thing that gave us tremendous joy and meaning. The unpacking is uncomfortable. It’s the removing of lenses you didn’t know you had. It’s the acknowledgement of privilege you didn’t realize existed. I invite you to lean into the discomfort. Our past selves were generally doing the best they could, and although these harmful distortions may not have been our fault they are now our responsibility to deconstruct, own, and change. This does not change the effect and influence this form has had on your life. But “once you know better, you much do better.”
I am watching a variety of people walk away from cultural forms out of shame and the ease of saying “well it’s not of my own culture so I shouldn’t participate.” I would like to lovingly say this is the easy way out and does not examine the actual issue. Our own sense of identities are complex and learning about other cultures and arts is a phenomenal way to understand your own assumptions, biases, and ideas. Please do not stop learning, nor participating. Along those lines, what does participation look like to you? Our dance community has been heavily focused on the entertainment avenue~ performing, festivals, gigs, recitals, competitions. But what if we stepped back and into the root of the dance, the community and the connection through moving together whether virtual or otherwise? Find the social heart of this dance instead of the performative one. Don’t get me wrong; I love performing and creating art. But we have removed our bodies and our movement so far from our identity, we think leaving a “style” behind solves the complication. We live in a global society and most of us are a collage of identities from heritage, up bringing, geography, experiences, subcultures, interests, and more. Identity is not as simply as “bloodline.” And what a sad world it would be if we only existed within those parameters. And what a dangerous world that is for those of us that a do not fit nicely in any one particular box. Intersectionality is a word we need to befriend. It is the future and also the way we can accept, understand, and celebrate diversity as a strength. So, let’s acknowledge the discomfort of learning and explore who we are. Who are you in your multiple ways, influences, and inspirations and how can that bring a more compassionate understanding to global living? As a community, I think we have to start here. This is how we grow forward together.
~Aubre Hill
January 2021