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?