Dance, Dance, Revolution

I like to say that dance is the most authentic form of art. It is the most pure, the most real, the most natural and innate. A dance is simply a body in motion, conscious or unconscious. A dance is the necessary expressiveness of what it means to be human in all of its glory and strife. But, I'd also like to think that dance is the great unifier. Last week, I attended the Chicago Black Dance Legacy Project performance of Metamorphosis. The project brings together dance collectives from across the city. And each has a unique focus, from tap and footwork to ballet and modern. This wasn't the first time I had seen a Chicago Black Dance Legacy Project performance. Last year, the collective held a free show in Chicago's Pritzker Pavilion at Millennium Park. But this was the first performance where I brought my parents along with me.

But as I entered adulthood, as my dancing moved from artistic performances to sweaty dance floors, I realized that dance was a means of release. It is a way to let go of everything that came before that moment and a means of setting straight what can happen in the future.

I grew up as a dancer and performed until I entered college. Back then, dance was just something I was good at and something I found fun. But as I entered adulthood, as my dancing moved from artistic performances to sweaty dance floors, I realized that dance was a means of release. It is a way to let go of everything that came before that moment and a means of setting straight what can happen in the future. I used to go out dancing alone, always terrified before I got there, then feeling a sense of relief once I began to move. It was on the dance floor that I could feel most like myself. But it was also on the dance floor that I could find people like myself. People looking for anonymous connections. People looking for collective euphoria. People expressing themselves without fear or judgment, with purpose and intention. People yearning for the expressive power and possibility of just letting go and being free. It was on the mini dance floors here and around the city that I met some of the people I would later call my friends. I even attended one such friend's wedding this past summer. And although dancing is what gives me the most joy, being able to see others dance and share that beauty with my friends or family also is a small blessing. My parents, dancers in their own right (their preferred style is the Chicago form of steppin’), left the show blown away. “That was even better than I expected!” my father exclaimed. I was not surprised by his feelings. That is how I feel when reflecting on the power dance continues to give me.