While most of me has forgiven my parents for making me quit dance as a child, there’s a small part of me that hasn’t. Doesn’t understand why they made me quit, but were willing to drive me almost as far for organ and then in high school for swim team at crazy ours since we had to borrow pools from others. I sometimes wonder how my life would’ve been different. How I would be different. More confident, free, uninhibited and fit had I kept dancing through my childhood.
I was good. Damn good. More importantly I was a ham on stage. I loved performing. Big smile. Knew the routines. The teachers were just hidden off stage behind the current. I didn’t need to watch them. I knew was I was supposed to do and did it. I couldn’t tell you now what the moves were. But I tapped and twirled and tumbled my heart out. It was only for two years. Then we moved. The drive was too long. I was sad. Not even sure how much I would later miss it. Regret having quit. In fact, it wasn’t until the 6th or 7th grade when the dance studio opened a branch a couple miles from my house. My friend Denise and I signed up for Jazz classes. We had danced for play for years. We’d put on shows for our parents in the basements. Stuff we made up. Our parents sat through it and clapped and cheered us on. My dad once asked me if I recalled the time Denise and I had planned a strip routine and he had to stop us. Who knows where we even got that idea. And I don’t remember it. I just remember playing music and dancing. Having fun and loving it.
But when I restarted in jazz in junior high, it wasn’t the same. I’d become self conscious about my body. I thought I was fat and needed to lose weight. Looking back at pictures, I wasn’t. I just didn’t have a normal waist that tucked in so pants made for the average girl didn’t fit me around the waist. But that made me think I was fat.
I looked back at pictures and movies and longed for that free spirit of 5 or 6. Most of the other little girls on stage were looking at the teachers. Not me. I looked out at the audience. Big beaming smile. Full of confidence. Not needing anyone to tell me what move came next. I suppose if I forgot I just faked it, or did what I was sure came next. Then again, I have a good memory so I probably just knew, and had developed the muscle memory.
Not sure why, but in junior high I had more trouble remembering what came next. Cared about doing it right. Even now, I am supposed to go to a open house event at my halau - hula school. Part of me just doesn’t want to go. It’s going to be crowded. With lots of food I don't eat. People I don’t know. And I just don’t know what to expect. They were vague in their descriptions: but strongly encouraged us newbies to come. Last night when I told Brian: “You just don’t want to perform.” Probably true.”They can’t make me” I replied. Though they didn’t say we’d have to. I know enough to know that since we learned a routine we’ll be asked to. And I haven’t practiced. And don’t remember all the moves. Can’t sing it. And definitely have no flair yet.
Sigh...At least I have S Factor. I don’t get performance anxiety there anymore. Maybe with pole tricks or pole week sometimes. But not with the dancing. Not since the first week of improv. I and my body get to do whatever we want. Even not move. And no matter what I do or don’t do it's okay. Will be cheered. And most importantly, it’s for me. Something will feel good, surprise me, amazed me. Like the times my leg crawls up the wall. Or my body invents a trick on the pole, combines things in new ways. Or does something I didn’t think she could do, like a cat pounce from standing or layout on the pole. My mind gets in the way. It didn’t when I was a kid. How can I get back that childlike freedom with hula and other performance. Is it just practice?