Beginnings

Dance isn't everything they tell you it's going to be, but then again neither is life. Sometimes it's more than what you were told, and a lot of the time it's much, much less.

But something they never, ever said was how awkward it would be to try and be a human being and a dancer at the same time with the constant thrills and chills that the two halves of one whole carry. That Killers song really does have a story to it - ours - the modern, contemporary, living, breathing, in-the-now, present-tense dancers. What are we and can we combine everything we're supposed to be into one cohesive structure of flesh, blood, heart and mind?

I'm still not sure, but here I am, trying to make it happen. I'm not alone, and I know that truth well, but I'm not certain that everyone does.

The saying "starving artist" is more than a joke. It is a euphemism born of very real struggles hidden by a constant performance. Even walking down the street, dancers are still on stage. It's something that never leaves you. The way we walk, the way we talk, the way we dress, we are the world's worst kept secret. You can spot us a mile away. Ours is a never-ending wondrous and awful existence of living the life we always wanted in ways we hate.

My dream is to be a dancer, and only a dancer. Yes, of course I want to be a daughter, sister, friend, lover and all other good things that come in life, but what I mean to say is that I want to be a dancing sister, not a sister who dances.

I am continually amazed by "normal," people's reactions when they find out I am a dancer. It either goes one of two ways - 1. Amazement 2. Pity. Then, inevitably comes the necessary explanation of how I live my life. "Ya, so working here isn't what I do. This is how I pay my bills, but when I'm done here, my day actually starts. After 9 hours of screaming children and parents, I have to muster up the energy to do what I really, really love, and some days I just can't and I can't even begin to tell you how hollow that makes me feel."

Okay...so I don't tell them all of that. But I absolutely let them know that doing their paperwork is not my life goal. And for that, I am absolutely respected. I just think it's a little ridiculous that I have to go through all that explaining on a daily basis to earn respect. Doctors don't have to do that. Why do I? Just because I work from a physical and spiritual place to create art, and have to find other means to make money, makes me no less important than the guy who can cut open your head if he needs to.

I'm beginning to realize, slowly, that it is a never-ending fight that I cannot take on alone, no matter how stubborn and headstrong I may be. I need help. I need the world to see me, and I need to see the world. I need to hear other stories of how people are doing this and I need everyone to know how we are all doing this.

So write! Dance! Draw! Think! And then send it to me so we can share it with the world. Whether you are a dancer who shares my story, or a dancer who strongly disagrees with me or an outsider looking in, let us know what you think! My hope is to open up a community discussion to share stories that are "super important" and stories that you just need to unleash to the world. Write about a class you taught, a class you took, a show you saw, a squirrel you took a picture of, rehearsal last week, the strange subway folk, anything. Just jump in head first with whatever you've got. I want people to see us and maybe more importantly, I want us to see ourselves for who we truly are and for what we are trying to do.

Here's to beginnings. May the end never come.