Wednesday, October 23, 2024
Shyness isn't nice
"Shyness is nice, and shyness can stop you from doing all the things in life
that you'd like to" The Smiths.
May I just delve into honest self reflection
here? When you're 69 you do a lot of reflecting on the past. So many odd
memories pop into my head from some deep recess of the brain, and I often go on
a quest to find some visual or audio that will support my recollections, which
is why Youtube is my social media of choice. It's easy for me to go down some
deep rabbithole of obscure past pop-culture events, or songs I remember that
defined certain places in time. I can then connect with how things felt, or
smelled or affected me emotionally during that particular time. From the 1950s
throught the 1980s the arts ruled and shaped our every waking moment if you were
young and aware. I was hyper focused on art trends. As far as our individual
lives, aside from occasional snapshots, we have no documentation to refer to
what our experiences were. When we die, it all goes with us, untold, unseen,
unsung... especially if we are shy. And shyness is no joke. I think I suffer
from Hyperfixation, an extension of shyness, where I watch a movie or listen to
a song or read a book over and over and over. I think it's because I never
really lived the life I truly wanted, and so I find some element of past pop
culture that reminds me what I longed to be. In reality the first 19 years of my
life were spent mostly in one neighborhood, on my bed, in my room, lost in books
or music. Living life vicariously. Afraid to try new things. My father was the
God of the house and I was told not to speak, that what I said didn't matter.
His was the voice that mattered and I was to be a quiet extention of him. I was
afraid to venture out. I was afraid to talk. Afraid to go to college. A million
thoughts swirled in my head, I wanted to escape, so I got lost in intricate
day-dreams. Stories in my head that I elaborated on, of being an interesting
person who impressed people in my imagination. I had resigned to myself that
day-dreams were as real as any actual experience. When I closed my eyes I would
be anywhere and anyone I wanted. That suited me fine. What does this have to do
with Belly Dance? Well not much in general, but in my particular case,
everything.
How I had the guts and drive to make a living out of dance was
uncharacteristic. I had some great times, I went to the places of my daydreams
and met wonderful people. But I'm not sure I would do it again, knowing all I
now know.
For one, I am very affected by the concept of belly dance as cultural
appropriation. I am so envious of people who have a culture they can proudly be
part of. Since this subject has come to the forefront of the Belly Dance world,
I wrestle with whether I should dance or not, whether I should ever have taken
to performing and teaching a cultural dance that was far from my little
non-descript working class neighborhood in a town where neighborhoods were
defined by gang names. There was no specific culture there, except possibly
learning dances off Soul Train. Just ramshackle homes and dogs running in the
street. Plus being of mixed ethnicity, staying in my own lane would keep me from
doing anything, because my lane is empty. Or cluttered.
So if I'm plagued by whether my dancing is ethical, I'm also plagued by the shame of looking old, and
how that squares with the image I'd always had of how a dancer was supposed to
look. Thankfully performing is something I do when I really want to, when I
think I'll be accepted for what I am. Young people are kinder and more open
minded these days, for the most part. It's a far cry from how we working dancers
of the past looked at anyone over 35. Dancers often discussed how many wrinkles
this or that dancer had. We harshly judged aging dancers. I thought dancers
should give it up early - "die young and leave a beautiful corpse" type of
thing.
How I got to this point of still trying to eek out a living in dance is a
bit pathetic. I'd like to say it was because I loved to dance so much I didn't
want to stop. The whole "dance is life", "I express myself through dance" thing,
blah blah blah. No. it's because I've made bad life choices, that left me no
choice.
And that's where shyness comes in. I guess I should be proud I was able
to do as much as I did with what little self esteem I had. I no longer had to
day-dream. But still, I could barely talk, couldn't stand up for myself. I
pushed myself as much as I could, but I could have done so much more if only I
could speak up, approach people, advocate for myself, for things I really
wanted. Yes being shy kept me, and still keeps me from living a life I would
have looked back on with pride, rather than looking back with so many regrets.
I know this isn't what dancers, who would like a role model for longevity in
dance, want to hear. I don't like admitting it. I believe I still dance in hopes
of finally getting to do the things I really always wanted, which is a fallacy
since I'm still too damned shy to even ask for things.
If I have one piece of advice for young pro dancers it's get a civilian job too. Don't rely on dance.
If American, get a job that pays into your social security and unemployment.
You're going to need those. I know a few who married rich, a few from
generational wealth, and they can live on someone else's money. But if you're
the average dancer, heed my warnings. Better yet, have dance be your hobby.
Challenge yourself, buy those gorgeous costumes, and find a fun community of
like minded people to bond with. So I'll wait to hit publish and think over how
honest I really want to be. I don't want to disappoint, but then again, is
anyone even listening?
Saturday, October 21, 2023
The Pandemic, Bellydance in time of Quarantine
2016 Was my Last Post. No one Saw what was Coming Next. Geez, an entire lifetime happened since my last post. From 2016 on, I was going along merrily teaching at DanceGardenLA, with a lot of students & a lot of performances. DanceGardenLA was THE place for Belly dance classes. Several regular teachers, workshops, recitals, It was a kind and warm community like no other. Plus I was teaching at various other locations, and classes were hopping. I was enjoying a particularly creative time in my career, choreographing for troupes of students and professional troupes. There was a yearly event called "LA Legends of Bellydance" which I gratefully was included as a teacher. Students would come from around the world to study with various teachers for a week.
I was producing yearly the the big Gala for "Cairo ShimmyQuake", LA's largest Belly dance festival. It was an extension of several Theater Productions I coordinated "A Choreographers' Collective" and "A Choreographers' Eclectic". Audiences really packed the theaters back then. From the "Flowers of the Desert" performances to my personal producer endeavors, There were lots of butts in seats. I mention this because live Belly dance shows are dead in LA as I write in 2023. Dance is dead here. Classes are dead here. I'll go into that in detail in a future blog post.
I was doing more out of town teaching, which was something I wanted to pursue more of. In 2019 the world seemed wide open.
DanceGardenLA changed owners in early 2020, but we seamlessly rolled right back into our usual full class schedules. A student of mine from Wuhan started mentioning that her family and friends back home were sick and dying. She said there's something so bad out there that no one is talking about. This shook me up, as I prayed this new plague would subside and stay within small parameters. We all know what happened in March 2020. It was the last I would see of most of my students who vanished from the bellydance world, or at least from my classes.
But the new owners of DanceGarden were smart as whips & were able to not miss a week, as classes went online. I'd show up in the studio in mask & stay far from owner Lauren, also masked and manning the Zoom link. It was a rocky and weird start to the new reality, one we thought would be over soon. Students from around the world were showing up in the little Zoom tiles, and that really opened my classes to new audience. A new creative way to express ourselves became one of my favorite parts of my dance career. Making dance videos staring myself & my students. I think this was me in my most sincere authentic form. Little did we know this would be the method of performing for several years. It seems like a lifetime.
Keep creating through the hard & lonely timesSeeing the clever videos in the worldwide online shows, I got a lightbulb in my head that we should honor the best of them in some way. I thought of a kind of Academy Award of Bellydance show. Lauren, the co-owner of DanceGardenLA brainstormed the idea of a film festival to go with it, so a new showcase was born The "Raqs Film Festival" and "Raqsi Awards" show. We had videos submitted from every corner of the globe. With the angst of pandemic, the videos produced were heart-wrenching & entertaining, reflecting the times of loneliness we were all facing.
In 2023 I was assisting in the 3rd International Raqs Film Fest. Though many dancers had moved away from filmmaking and back to live stages, the collective experience we went through created a new space for dancers to be creative. I hope dancers continue to explore film as a medium.
A wish I could say the pandemic subsided and in-studio classes filled up again, but this hasn't been the case. For me at least. I continued holding a few online only classes, and my regular studio classes aways have Zoom students tuning in.
I reread my blog to see if any other times in dance were as bleak as 2023, but for me, this is the worst. I finally am seeing the end of my time of relevance in the dance world, unless some crazy stroke of fate strikes new lightening bolts of energy into my dance career. Here in LA, dance is so dead, and there are so many teachers and producers just beating that dead horse. It's tragic to see the shows with only a handful in the audience.
So my final post coming soon will be a rant about how Belly dance got to this place, where making a living wage is no long possible, except for a few young beauties dancing the club and wedding scene. And what will that rant include? The insidious, insipid, vapid (redundant right?) world of Social Media.
Tuesday, July 6, 2021
2016 Death & Despair
There are a good number of posts I've written in the past years that haven't been published. Mostly ones that were way too personal, way too honest. Since I've dumped Facebook and Instagram for a while (another post I will probably write soon), I decided to visit my blog to see if I really wanted to continue with it as a means to communicate. More as a means to be seen and remembered. Isn't that what everyone on social media wants? Isn't that why I can't take it anymore?
This was a 2016 post that didn't see the light of day, and looking back I can remember the feelings of doom, of loss. But the last sentence really resonated as foretelling.
I really did need, and use all the strength I could muster. 2020 was horrible in every possible and unbelievable way imaginable.
My strength is still sapped and I'm suffering from a sort of PTSD feeling. Terrified and hiding.
I hope I can find a well of strength to call on soon. In the meantime I'm purging the things around me that contribute to my stress. Will dance stay a part of my life? I'm not sure. In the meantime, 2016 was one f**d up year:
Good riddance 2016. You've been relentlessly cruel you capricious brute. Sadness, shock, fight or flight? It's been a wake up call for the frailty of a world I loved.
The first sorrow of the year was expected, yet bittersweet. The death of Merle Haggard, whose music was the soundtrack for a happy time in my life as a young adult, appreciated all the more as possibly the last thing I could connect to my father with. "Ramblin' Fever", "The Runnin' Kind" I could relate to in an aching way, it was a freedom I longed for.
The next blow set me reeling. I wrote about the death of Prince and the relationship to Tarab in my last blog post. It would be best to read it to capture the sense of loss that astounded me. My not being a person to care one bit for celebrity, it was his art, his genius that captured me.
The next big blow was personal. A close dance friend from the '70s Joanne Domenici, a mentor of sorts for her calm demeanor & wise comforting words, passed away quickly after a diagnosis of a fatal cancer. How could someone so dedicated to healthy living leave this world so quickly, just as she was beginning a new chapter of work retirement & a new life of travel & grandchildren? She wasn't old, it wasn't fair. I miss her every day.
The last blow possibly set me reeling more than any of the aforementioned tragedies. I have done a lot of soul searching as to why the election of a man like Donald Trump to the highest position in the world would slam me against a wall, & I think I have uncovered the very personal & ugly reasons. We all have our personal journeys that shape our worldview, & here is mine, as it relates to the recent election:
I was born in the American '50s, when assimilation to the Anglo/Saxon world was key to survival & success. Only this year have I discovered through DNA, that my father's claim of being pure Basque was either a complete & total lie (wouldn't be surprising as lying was a way of life for him), or there was a deep family secret kept from him - that he was at least 40% Native American & the rest a combination of Iberian Peninsula, North Africa, West Africa, South & East Asia. Not surprising at all actually for a New Mexico native with deep roots, but deeply shameful & life altering if it was known in those times when it was illegal for blacks to marry whites, & Mexicans, etc were to be kept separate from whites in much of the USA.
That I heard the "n" word on a regular basis among some family & family friends as a child, & that all manner of prejudice was the fabric of white life in the '50s & early '60s, a life I was supposedly a part of, came up against a conflicting deeply personal reality: I had brown skin.
Because children played outside all day in the California & Arizona sunshine where I grew up, I was different enough to attract the ugliest comments anyone could inflict upon a child. I remember with laser clarity the following occurrences: I was called the "n" word by fellow students. "Give me the ball black ass" was an elementary school chestnut from a boy with a face full of self righteous indignation. "Beaner", "Taco Bender" (or "Vendor"?) I could never figure that one out. A grown man yelling out of a car window "Hey Injun Joe" as I walked to school in pigtails. It was no wonder that when an Armenian girl finally came to my school, I looked down at our hands side by side & was relieved to see someone was browner than me. I had grown to hate myself.
I kept all these insults a secret, since there was a deep shame in being called something that was the antithesis of all that was "acceptable" in my life in those times. I was supposed to be a white girl, but somehow I wasn't treated as one in the outside world.
As a teen, & a young woman, as all young women, daily sexual slurs were hurled by all manor of older men. Not sitting on a creepy old boss's lap was grounds for having to leave a job I loved before being fired. Other deep humiliating secrets.
Listening to the Orange Man (I can barely speak his name) hurl insults verbally, not to mention on Twitter, of all things, brought back in stark reality the face of that smug bully in elementary school demanding the ball from me. All that was painful & cruel about the time I grew up, was suddenly a world white people wanted to return to. It was payback time for perceived losses, & the insults have been gleefully lobbed all over the internet, the schools & the streets of America. Mean is back, with an angry vengeance.
So if you prefer to call me a bleeding heart liberal, one of the people who has brought down this country, so be it. I have tried, but I've failed to be tough. I'm a born empath, a care giver, overly maternal, & that will always be at my core. I'll never feel good enough, & if you read my blog you may notice the overabundance of self deprecation. I'll knock myself down before you do it.
But 2016, you've made me stronger. A new emotion - anger has taken over a previously soft place in my soul. I've wanted to hurl insults at mean internet tolls, but my desire to be gracious (& common sense) overruled. I've thought of writing wild conspiratorial fake news stories for internet sites, because I know there's a good buck to be made & a sucker born every minute. But I just can't do something so deceptive. So this new strength needs to be processed & I'll see where it takes me. I get the feeling I'm going to need all the strength I can muster.
The first sorrow of the year was expected, yet bittersweet. The death of Merle Haggard, whose music was the soundtrack for a happy time in my life as a young adult, appreciated all the more as possibly the last thing I could connect to my father with. "Ramblin' Fever", "The Runnin' Kind" I could relate to in an aching way, it was a freedom I longed for.
The next blow set me reeling. I wrote about the death of Prince and the relationship to Tarab in my last blog post. It would be best to read it to capture the sense of loss that astounded me. My not being a person to care one bit for celebrity, it was his art, his genius that captured me.
The next big blow was personal. A close dance friend from the '70s Joanne Domenici, a mentor of sorts for her calm demeanor & wise comforting words, passed away quickly after a diagnosis of a fatal cancer. How could someone so dedicated to healthy living leave this world so quickly, just as she was beginning a new chapter of work retirement & a new life of travel & grandchildren? She wasn't old, it wasn't fair. I miss her every day.
The last blow possibly set me reeling more than any of the aforementioned tragedies. I have done a lot of soul searching as to why the election of a man like Donald Trump to the highest position in the world would slam me against a wall, & I think I have uncovered the very personal & ugly reasons. We all have our personal journeys that shape our worldview, & here is mine, as it relates to the recent election:
I was born in the American '50s, when assimilation to the Anglo/Saxon world was key to survival & success. Only this year have I discovered through DNA, that my father's claim of being pure Basque was either a complete & total lie (wouldn't be surprising as lying was a way of life for him), or there was a deep family secret kept from him - that he was at least 40% Native American & the rest a combination of Iberian Peninsula, North Africa, West Africa, South & East Asia. Not surprising at all actually for a New Mexico native with deep roots, but deeply shameful & life altering if it was known in those times when it was illegal for blacks to marry whites, & Mexicans, etc were to be kept separate from whites in much of the USA.
That I heard the "n" word on a regular basis among some family & family friends as a child, & that all manner of prejudice was the fabric of white life in the '50s & early '60s, a life I was supposedly a part of, came up against a conflicting deeply personal reality: I had brown skin.
Because children played outside all day in the California & Arizona sunshine where I grew up, I was different enough to attract the ugliest comments anyone could inflict upon a child. I remember with laser clarity the following occurrences: I was called the "n" word by fellow students. "Give me the ball black ass" was an elementary school chestnut from a boy with a face full of self righteous indignation. "Beaner", "Taco Bender" (or "Vendor"?) I could never figure that one out. A grown man yelling out of a car window "Hey Injun Joe" as I walked to school in pigtails. It was no wonder that when an Armenian girl finally came to my school, I looked down at our hands side by side & was relieved to see someone was browner than me. I had grown to hate myself.
I kept all these insults a secret, since there was a deep shame in being called something that was the antithesis of all that was "acceptable" in my life in those times. I was supposed to be a white girl, but somehow I wasn't treated as one in the outside world.
As a teen, & a young woman, as all young women, daily sexual slurs were hurled by all manor of older men. Not sitting on a creepy old boss's lap was grounds for having to leave a job I loved before being fired. Other deep humiliating secrets.
Listening to the Orange Man (I can barely speak his name) hurl insults verbally, not to mention on Twitter, of all things, brought back in stark reality the face of that smug bully in elementary school demanding the ball from me. All that was painful & cruel about the time I grew up, was suddenly a world white people wanted to return to. It was payback time for perceived losses, & the insults have been gleefully lobbed all over the internet, the schools & the streets of America. Mean is back, with an angry vengeance.
So if you prefer to call me a bleeding heart liberal, one of the people who has brought down this country, so be it. I have tried, but I've failed to be tough. I'm a born empath, a care giver, overly maternal, & that will always be at my core. I'll never feel good enough, & if you read my blog you may notice the overabundance of self deprecation. I'll knock myself down before you do it.
But 2016, you've made me stronger. A new emotion - anger has taken over a previously soft place in my soul. I've wanted to hurl insults at mean internet tolls, but my desire to be gracious (& common sense) overruled. I've thought of writing wild conspiratorial fake news stories for internet sites, because I know there's a good buck to be made & a sucker born every minute. But I just can't do something so deceptive. So this new strength needs to be processed & I'll see where it takes me. I get the feeling I'm going to need all the strength I can muster.
Thursday, March 17, 2016
Dance because You Can
I guess you could say I've had an epiphany of sorts since my last sorry post. I was losing interest in dance, feeling like I just wasn't going anywhere and my better days were behind me. I felt like if I couldn't have a prestigious career then it wasn't worth the bother. And probably most of all I was practicing ageism on myself, influenced by the belief that the old need to move on & make way for the young. Find a rocking chair & fade away.
Sometimes you need a good dose of reality, a knock on the head, a wake up call. You don't get to this age without people close to you falling ill, being injured or leaving this earth way too soon. And lately I feel like I'm getting slammed with bad news, enough to break my heart. It certainly makes you do some soul searching, & makes you so grateful for what you have & what you can still do.
This is 60. March 2016
For today I am so grateful that I have no aches & pains. I am so grateful that I can still dance. I am so grateful for the dear people I've surrounded myself with. I'm grateful for every day I wake up.
And so I recently put the eyelashes on, put the costume in the bag, & headed off to perform in my comfort zone - a small venue with live music. I hadn't prepared, didn't know what the musicians would play, I tried practicing around the house a bit but decided I was better off just leaving it to chance. But I went without reservation, which is more than I can say for my usual fussing & balking. I did it to celebrate this newfound gratefulness, to honor my friends who don't have the luxury of that choice: to dance or not. Because if you can do it, then why not? Why not say "I've survived, I'm still here & I'll dance while I still can".
I watched a documentary on Loretta Lynn, one of many older artists who has inspired the younger generation. Musicians tend to have a reverence for their elders that dancers don't have. Dance can be a little superficial. Young & beautiful = respect. Old = has-been. But why do I have to care about such shallowness? If I can still dance, can still express myself, then I should. So from now on I will try on my new attitude & just do what I want. Isn't that one of the benefits of old age? The right to not care what anyone else thinks, to just do what I do because I want to? I'm going to ride that wave a while, in honor of those who can't. With love.
Sometimes you need a good dose of reality, a knock on the head, a wake up call. You don't get to this age without people close to you falling ill, being injured or leaving this earth way too soon. And lately I feel like I'm getting slammed with bad news, enough to break my heart. It certainly makes you do some soul searching, & makes you so grateful for what you have & what you can still do.
For today I am so grateful that I have no aches & pains. I am so grateful that I can still dance. I am so grateful for the dear people I've surrounded myself with. I'm grateful for every day I wake up.
And so I recently put the eyelashes on, put the costume in the bag, & headed off to perform in my comfort zone - a small venue with live music. I hadn't prepared, didn't know what the musicians would play, I tried practicing around the house a bit but decided I was better off just leaving it to chance. But I went without reservation, which is more than I can say for my usual fussing & balking. I did it to celebrate this newfound gratefulness, to honor my friends who don't have the luxury of that choice: to dance or not. Because if you can do it, then why not? Why not say "I've survived, I'm still here & I'll dance while I still can".
I watched a documentary on Loretta Lynn, one of many older artists who has inspired the younger generation. Musicians tend to have a reverence for their elders that dancers don't have. Dance can be a little superficial. Young & beautiful = respect. Old = has-been. But why do I have to care about such shallowness? If I can still dance, can still express myself, then I should. So from now on I will try on my new attitude & just do what I want. Isn't that one of the benefits of old age? The right to not care what anyone else thinks, to just do what I do because I want to? I'm going to ride that wave a while, in honor of those who can't. With love.
Monday, December 28, 2015
Slipping Away
Belly Dance, you've been my identity for almost 40 years. You almost left me a few times, but then you'd come back in a new way, breathing new life into me, new reasons for dancing. Through longevity & serendipity, I've attained a certain amount of respect, a tiny amount of recognition. But I'm starting to feel the blood flowing quickly out of my dance veins, & I don't know if I'll be able to stem the flow this time. I just might have to let her go - my alter ego as dancer. The heartbeat is fading, & I don't think anyone will notice if one day she slips away for good. That's when you know it's time to bid farewell.
So an obituary of sorts for this once dancing girl: She did it as a lark. She wanted attention & didn't know another way to get it. She didn't really love it, she didn't really invest in it. Her dancing was shallow & average. She was thrown into a new culture that she never fully embraced. She was an "It" girl for a fleeting moment, & she had many falls from grace. Yet she kept trying. She kept reinventing. She started caring & wanted to get it right. She would feel confident, only to be torn down, she never really believed the compliments, yet sometimes she thought she just might be ok. Because deep down below the glitter & glamourous costumes, the eyelashes & hair, was still the unbearably shy, sad child, the one who tried to be invisible - & maybe this was the best way for her to hide. It was a facade - an artificial & deceptive front.
I don't expect anyone to show up at her funeral. People move on, & in an instant one can be forgotten. She wanted respect, she wanted recognition, but she didn't put in the work to deserve it. Yet she persevered & had many successes she was proud of. Was it a wasted life? I don't know. Will anyone remember? Maybe a few. So maybe she really did care, maybe she cared too much.
So an obituary of sorts for this once dancing girl: She did it as a lark. She wanted attention & didn't know another way to get it. She didn't really love it, she didn't really invest in it. Her dancing was shallow & average. She was thrown into a new culture that she never fully embraced. She was an "It" girl for a fleeting moment, & she had many falls from grace. Yet she kept trying. She kept reinventing. She started caring & wanted to get it right. She would feel confident, only to be torn down, she never really believed the compliments, yet sometimes she thought she just might be ok. Because deep down below the glitter & glamourous costumes, the eyelashes & hair, was still the unbearably shy, sad child, the one who tried to be invisible - & maybe this was the best way for her to hide. It was a facade - an artificial & deceptive front.
I don't expect anyone to show up at her funeral. People move on, & in an instant one can be forgotten. She wanted respect, she wanted recognition, but she didn't put in the work to deserve it. Yet she persevered & had many successes she was proud of. Was it a wasted life? I don't know. Will anyone remember? Maybe a few. So maybe she really did care, maybe she cared too much.
Friday, April 3, 2015
Dance is Not Fair! This is over 30 Years of Experience Talking!
You've fallen in love with Belly Dance. It speaks to you. You've been inspired by a teacher & a community of dancers. You want to take it as far as possible, maybe be a professional, or a serious hobbyist who performs often. I am thankful for you. There's nothing I love more than to share this passion of mine with others who are motivated to learn. But so often I find myself licking the wounds of students who find their hopes dashed by the harsh realities of dance. I've personally licked my own share of wounds & would like to share the wisdom of my experience. This is geared towards the American dancer, but no doubt stands true for many other countries.
Let me say right here & now. Dance is NOT fair! ...And belly Dance is no different.
1. The rules of normal life, the cliches we see on memes, do not necessarily transfer to the laws of dance. "If you work hard you will achieve success" might be true in other life pursuits, but it doesn't mean a lot in dance. Hard work will be rewarded for some who also have other desirable dance assets, but for others, hard work needs to be for the love of dance only, not for the possibility of working or being chosen for a dance company or performance.
2. You will see dancers who have put in minimal effort rise to enviable heights. This is so frustrating for long time students who have put in blood, sweat & tears learning the intricacies of Belly Dance, only to see some young beautiful upstart come in for a few months & start being wooed into companies or hired for jobs. Stop trying to figure it all out. It is what it is, plain & simple, no complexities.
3. If your teacher said you can be any size, shape, & age to Belly Dance, she is telling the truth - if your desires are to enjoy the process of learning, form friendships, perform at haflas & amateur showcases. If you take the teacher's word to mean anyone can be successful as a professional or in demand Belly Dancer, you might be very disappointed & confused.
4. Yes, looks & youth can trump talent & experience. Belly Dance training may not even be necessary for some troupes to hire a dancer. There are professional Belly Dance companies who actively recruit jazz & contemporary dancers rather than look to the belly dance classes. They are looking for uniformity, beauty, youth & the ability to learn quickly.
5. You may be a whizz at learning choreography, & congratulations for a having a great skill! But often a student who feels they know a choreography really well, may not be executing the movements well at all. They often feel confused about why they may not be chosen for a company when they know the dance well. Knowing what step comes after what is only a small part. It's how you do the steps that counts more.
6. You may be the most reliable person in the world. You may always be at the beck & call of the director or teacher, to the point of even obsequiousness. Then why do you see the flakey dancers who are never on time, or generally give the director headaches, be chosen over you? Who cares if they are talented as hell, it's not fair! Well there you go, truer word was never spoken.
7. Or the flip side - you see the student who is a brown noser & you find it extremely annoying. She may even resent you or sabotage you because you are looking like a threat. You see her getting jobs she doesn't deserve, because she knows who to butter up. But - this one won't last, no need to fear. If you are good enough, she'll eventually be on the losing end of this scenario.
8. Competitions are subjective. They will never be fair, unless you're the winner.
9. The sleazy girl, who no dancer likes or respects, is getting good jobs. You know she's undercutting, she's being less than decorous & the rumors are flying. Yet she's on the hot list for the clubs & parties. Maddening, irritating, but chances are there's nothing you can do to change it.
10. You may be a victim of racism. Yes it is rampant, no matter how much we'd like to think otherwise. Your race or ethnicity alone might keep you from those coveted jobs.
11. If you are already a professional dancer, there will come a day when you dance better than you ever have. You will finally feel your dancing is the way you've always wanted it to be. On that day you will probably be too old. Suddenly the jobs start drying up & troupes stop asking for you to perform. Belly Dancers are a little more fortunate than others. A beautiful dancer who keeps herself in shape can easily last through her mid 40s. Even then, she will often be overlooked & replaced.
12. You are a respected teacher. You've paid your dues, you've got a lifetime of experience to share, but you can't get on that good workshop circuit. You see a dancer video go viral, sometimes warranted, sometimes not, & suddenly she's out there as a "master". You see teachers short on talent, but long on self promotion become a hot item for the name recognition. You may be deluding yourself about your abilities. You may not come across well in videos, or just never have anyone discover them. You may hate to promote yourself, suffering from a bit of "Tall Poppy" syndrome. You just can't get a break.
And this is where I leave it, because, yes even after close to 40 years making a living as a dancer, I have had my share of rejection. At different times I've been too skinny, too tall, too old, no name recognition, not attractive enough & the list goes on & on. Yes I still have dreams & goals for dance, but they may never materialize. And after all I've done it just doesn't seem fair. Point well taken.
Let me say right here & now. Dance is NOT fair! ...And belly Dance is no different.
1. The rules of normal life, the cliches we see on memes, do not necessarily transfer to the laws of dance. "If you work hard you will achieve success" might be true in other life pursuits, but it doesn't mean a lot in dance. Hard work will be rewarded for some who also have other desirable dance assets, but for others, hard work needs to be for the love of dance only, not for the possibility of working or being chosen for a dance company or performance.
2. You will see dancers who have put in minimal effort rise to enviable heights. This is so frustrating for long time students who have put in blood, sweat & tears learning the intricacies of Belly Dance, only to see some young beautiful upstart come in for a few months & start being wooed into companies or hired for jobs. Stop trying to figure it all out. It is what it is, plain & simple, no complexities.
3. If your teacher said you can be any size, shape, & age to Belly Dance, she is telling the truth - if your desires are to enjoy the process of learning, form friendships, perform at haflas & amateur showcases. If you take the teacher's word to mean anyone can be successful as a professional or in demand Belly Dancer, you might be very disappointed & confused.
4. Yes, looks & youth can trump talent & experience. Belly Dance training may not even be necessary for some troupes to hire a dancer. There are professional Belly Dance companies who actively recruit jazz & contemporary dancers rather than look to the belly dance classes. They are looking for uniformity, beauty, youth & the ability to learn quickly.
5. You may be a whizz at learning choreography, & congratulations for a having a great skill! But often a student who feels they know a choreography really well, may not be executing the movements well at all. They often feel confused about why they may not be chosen for a company when they know the dance well. Knowing what step comes after what is only a small part. It's how you do the steps that counts more.
6. You may be the most reliable person in the world. You may always be at the beck & call of the director or teacher, to the point of even obsequiousness. Then why do you see the flakey dancers who are never on time, or generally give the director headaches, be chosen over you? Who cares if they are talented as hell, it's not fair! Well there you go, truer word was never spoken.
7. Or the flip side - you see the student who is a brown noser & you find it extremely annoying. She may even resent you or sabotage you because you are looking like a threat. You see her getting jobs she doesn't deserve, because she knows who to butter up. But - this one won't last, no need to fear. If you are good enough, she'll eventually be on the losing end of this scenario.
8. Competitions are subjective. They will never be fair, unless you're the winner.
9. The sleazy girl, who no dancer likes or respects, is getting good jobs. You know she's undercutting, she's being less than decorous & the rumors are flying. Yet she's on the hot list for the clubs & parties. Maddening, irritating, but chances are there's nothing you can do to change it.
10. You may be a victim of racism. Yes it is rampant, no matter how much we'd like to think otherwise. Your race or ethnicity alone might keep you from those coveted jobs.
11. If you are already a professional dancer, there will come a day when you dance better than you ever have. You will finally feel your dancing is the way you've always wanted it to be. On that day you will probably be too old. Suddenly the jobs start drying up & troupes stop asking for you to perform. Belly Dancers are a little more fortunate than others. A beautiful dancer who keeps herself in shape can easily last through her mid 40s. Even then, she will often be overlooked & replaced.
12. You are a respected teacher. You've paid your dues, you've got a lifetime of experience to share, but you can't get on that good workshop circuit. You see a dancer video go viral, sometimes warranted, sometimes not, & suddenly she's out there as a "master". You see teachers short on talent, but long on self promotion become a hot item for the name recognition. You may be deluding yourself about your abilities. You may not come across well in videos, or just never have anyone discover them. You may hate to promote yourself, suffering from a bit of "Tall Poppy" syndrome. You just can't get a break.
And this is where I leave it, because, yes even after close to 40 years making a living as a dancer, I have had my share of rejection. At different times I've been too skinny, too tall, too old, no name recognition, not attractive enough & the list goes on & on. Yes I still have dreams & goals for dance, but they may never materialize. And after all I've done it just doesn't seem fair. Point well taken.
Friday, February 6, 2015
The Movie "The Turning Point", & the Joy of Being a Mentor
One of my favorite movies is "The Turning Point" from the '70s. Not only because of the magnificent dance scenes with Mikhail Baryshnikov, but the timeless theme of the sacrifices dancers make. For so long I related to the Shirley MacClain character - becoming a wife & mother to the detriment of devoting a life to dance & the possible successes that could have been achieved, but at times I suppose I more resembled the Anne Bancroft character - the professional performer who milked every drop out of a fading career. But recently watching the movie, I realized I had crossed a new threshold when I related to the older, respected ballet coach, Madame Dakharova. Young, up & coming dance stars sought out Madame for one to one coaching - & one scene showed exactly why: a seemingly simple step was being shown with a nuanced tilt of the shoulders, & the budding pro ballerina was struggling with getting it right. Madame looked natural, mature & refined doing this movement - yet when we see the student, resplendent onstage, performing with American Ballet Theater (played by real life ABT ballerina Leslie Browne) she still doesn't get the shoulder movement correctly, giving her a coltish, immature look, as technically glorious as she was. And this was not intentional, but a real life example of the difficulty of nuanced, mature dance.
Here in my second half of life, I have the good fortune to have attained a position of Dance Mentor & Coach to many of LA's most promising professional young dancers, as well as to dedicated students with a passion for our dance form. It is an honor I don't take lightly, & with my always shaky feelings of self worth, an honor I am not sure I'm worthy of. I often tell myself, if you stick around long enough, you'll gain respect. Perhaps it's my overabundance of maternal instinct or possibly some overactive nurturing hormone or gene that draws me to this position, or possibly draws dancers seeking me out for council. Whatever it is, I am more than thankful for the opportunities it has rendered.
I am so impressed with this new generation of dancers. Let's face it - it's now a whole lot more complicated than it was when I was in full professional mode:
1. There's the videos opening up the whole world, where we can see every style of dancer from every country with a click of a button. To be an original in this day & age is near impossible, when it's all been done before.
2. The jobs are few & far between & usually require a dancer to form or join a troupe, & almost always clever choreographies are required.
3. A dancer now needs a lot of training. Cross training, refining, perfecting technique. These dancers are better than their predecessors.
4. Competitions are often the doorway to a successful career. The stress, the preparation, the thrill of victory & more often the agony of defeat have made dance a sport, requiring not only the artistic values, but the values required of the athlete.
The young dancers that seek me out have their eyes wide open. Their good training is firmly in place, & even more importantly, I feel blessed to work with dancers with unique styles & a true passion. I often wonder what I can offer, not wanting to disturb the balance these talented dancers have developed. Most often my advice is something to the effect of "Be yourself. Stay yourself. Continue to grow, but don't change because you think another style you've seen might be better, or that you feel you should dance like 'so & so'. Cut your own path."
I have choreographed for troupes, although I warn them I am not a commercial choreographer & my style is probably too quirky & theatrical for mainstream parties, etc. I remember an interview I heard with Elvis Costello, how he would be embarrassed to bring new songs to the band, wondering if they would snicker, or if they were too personal to be shared. I get that, I relate. Showing choreographies to talented pros can scare me to death. Will they look at me blankly, thinking "this is total crap"?
And the one thing I've realized I can't offer is the choreographed solo. To me Raqs Sharki, or the Belly Dance solo is a personal journey, optimally improvised. 99% of the time a solo choreographed by someone else doesn't look right. Isn't entertaining. I could make more money if I could offer this skill, but it's almost an ethical issue, showing my age I suppose.
Yet still they seek me out, & I adore them. And like Madame Dakharova in "The Turning Point", I believe I do have something to offer - those subtle things only fully seasoned dancers have achieved & the (hopefully) sage advice of someone who has been there & done that. Perhaps a mentor is a motherly figure, someone to help navigate the journey through this daunting profession.
But how fortunate for the older dancer to have respect of the younger ones. I think my generation regarded elders as the enemy (a holdover from the 'don't trust anyone over 30' era). How lovely that these new generations have somehow been instilled with such a high regard for experience & for artistic styles of the past. Like the Millennial musicians who still revere the Beatles, or the blues, I have been so impressed with the new generations. And what keeps an elder dancer more on her toes & more engaged than a talented young dancer seeking out some knowledge? They are my muse, my reason for not giving up.
This has been a gift and a blessing, & possibly the most rewarding part of my career. To be the best I can possibly be for these trusting proteges, I will continue to learn and grow, to try to stay one step ahead. To understand the new world of dance & not be stuck in the past. The rest is all there inside me, from the decades of blood, sweat & tears, & I am most happy to share this. In this way, perhaps a little piece of the past, & selfishly, a little piece of me will live on. What more could a dancer hope for?
Here in my second half of life, I have the good fortune to have attained a position of Dance Mentor & Coach to many of LA's most promising professional young dancers, as well as to dedicated students with a passion for our dance form. It is an honor I don't take lightly, & with my always shaky feelings of self worth, an honor I am not sure I'm worthy of. I often tell myself, if you stick around long enough, you'll gain respect. Perhaps it's my overabundance of maternal instinct or possibly some overactive nurturing hormone or gene that draws me to this position, or possibly draws dancers seeking me out for council. Whatever it is, I am more than thankful for the opportunities it has rendered.
I am so impressed with this new generation of dancers. Let's face it - it's now a whole lot more complicated than it was when I was in full professional mode:
1. There's the videos opening up the whole world, where we can see every style of dancer from every country with a click of a button. To be an original in this day & age is near impossible, when it's all been done before.
2. The jobs are few & far between & usually require a dancer to form or join a troupe, & almost always clever choreographies are required.
3. A dancer now needs a lot of training. Cross training, refining, perfecting technique. These dancers are better than their predecessors.
4. Competitions are often the doorway to a successful career. The stress, the preparation, the thrill of victory & more often the agony of defeat have made dance a sport, requiring not only the artistic values, but the values required of the athlete.
The young dancers that seek me out have their eyes wide open. Their good training is firmly in place, & even more importantly, I feel blessed to work with dancers with unique styles & a true passion. I often wonder what I can offer, not wanting to disturb the balance these talented dancers have developed. Most often my advice is something to the effect of "Be yourself. Stay yourself. Continue to grow, but don't change because you think another style you've seen might be better, or that you feel you should dance like 'so & so'. Cut your own path."
I have choreographed for troupes, although I warn them I am not a commercial choreographer & my style is probably too quirky & theatrical for mainstream parties, etc. I remember an interview I heard with Elvis Costello, how he would be embarrassed to bring new songs to the band, wondering if they would snicker, or if they were too personal to be shared. I get that, I relate. Showing choreographies to talented pros can scare me to death. Will they look at me blankly, thinking "this is total crap"?
And the one thing I've realized I can't offer is the choreographed solo. To me Raqs Sharki, or the Belly Dance solo is a personal journey, optimally improvised. 99% of the time a solo choreographed by someone else doesn't look right. Isn't entertaining. I could make more money if I could offer this skill, but it's almost an ethical issue, showing my age I suppose.
Yet still they seek me out, & I adore them. And like Madame Dakharova in "The Turning Point", I believe I do have something to offer - those subtle things only fully seasoned dancers have achieved & the (hopefully) sage advice of someone who has been there & done that. Perhaps a mentor is a motherly figure, someone to help navigate the journey through this daunting profession.
But how fortunate for the older dancer to have respect of the younger ones. I think my generation regarded elders as the enemy (a holdover from the 'don't trust anyone over 30' era). How lovely that these new generations have somehow been instilled with such a high regard for experience & for artistic styles of the past. Like the Millennial musicians who still revere the Beatles, or the blues, I have been so impressed with the new generations. And what keeps an elder dancer more on her toes & more engaged than a talented young dancer seeking out some knowledge? They are my muse, my reason for not giving up.
This has been a gift and a blessing, & possibly the most rewarding part of my career. To be the best I can possibly be for these trusting proteges, I will continue to learn and grow, to try to stay one step ahead. To understand the new world of dance & not be stuck in the past. The rest is all there inside me, from the decades of blood, sweat & tears, & I am most happy to share this. In this way, perhaps a little piece of the past, & selfishly, a little piece of me will live on. What more could a dancer hope for?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)