Avoidance
A lesson from modern dance class
In the winter I started going to a dance class: Monday Night Contemporary and Lyrical Choreography. I had been reading a lot of dancer’s biographies, and I romanticized the idea of the rehearsal studio. The studio seemed to be where people went to learn what their bodies were capable of, to push them to new limits in the name of beauty and elegance. I wanted to be engaged in a process of building the strength of my body so that I could move more gracefully and expressively, and I wanted to learn a lot about myself.
So on Monday nights I would close my computer and rush down to the dance studio, sometimes by foot and sometimes by car. Immediately, it became the highlight of my week.T here was always S, our teacher, who doesn’t count out the rhythm with numbers but with ottomotapia; M who dances gracefully and laughs quietly; C, whose every movement is elegant and perfect; and a revolving cast of characters around the core attendees who I considered regulars. In the winter, it was usually the four of us, and class would start just as the sun was going down. We gather around in a circle to do some grounding stretching, and then we line up on one end of the long room, and do warm ups, dancing back and forth across the room in a series of repetitive stretches. Then we do a bunch of strengthening exercises like planks and stuff. For the last 35-40 minutes, we dig into the choreography.
I wasn’t sure what people were going to think of me when I started going - a chubby butch with a lot of tattoos whose kicks looked more like karate than contemporary dance when they got started. But when I shaved my head, everyone was excited for me. And surely enough - I was learning a lot about myself. This isn’t Juliard - it’s an adult ed dance class. The energy that I have been bringing to class since the beginning has been a little much. But sometimes when I do something well, S will give me a loud whoop or holler, and one time even went, “Cam’s a modern dancer!” And when I came back to class after missing a week, people would always tell me that they missed me.
When the summer rolled around, I started to wonder - I was learning a lot about myself, but was I actually getting better at dancing? My shoulders were feeling sort of tense, and I was struggling with getting up and down from some of our floor work. I wondered about adding a second class to my weekly routine. There was a lot on my mind. And then —
— A big opportunity! There was going to be a performance — My dream! S invited me to be a part of the show before class started one week, that they were rehearsing for on Sunday. They had already had their first practice. I felt excited to have the opportunity to take my dancing to the next level, to sweat and prepare myself for the stage. But the timing was bad - I knew I would miss at least four rehearsals going on a road trip to Newfoundland…
That day in class, S’s daughter N lead the workshop, walking us through a dance. It was hard. I could see S see the intimidation on my face as we worked our way through the choreography. When I got home from class, I sat down at my chord organ and played tortured music while my best friend and roommate had a picnic at our back yard. Later, they both told me they could see my face the whole time. I looked very somber.
As the summer days got longer, the pace of my life gained more and more speed. I wasn’t able to be at rehearsals for the performance because I was on a road trip, because of my sweetie’s birthday party, because I was away on a camping trip. Every week I would get an update from the rehearsals sent to my email. I hadn’t gone to any rehearsals, but I hadn’t formally said I wasn’t going to do them. Then, I wasn’t able to make it to Monday night for a week. And then another. Then a third in a row.
Like everything about dance class, it wasn’t that big of a deal, but it felt like a really big deal to me. Every Monday evening that rolled around, I decided to do something other than dance class, and I knew it was because I was avoiding it.
Avoidance is something that I really struggle with. Conflict has become unresolved conflict, which has lead to the end of a few relationships with people who really mattered to me. Some of those relationships have been unable to be repaired. So when I noticed I was avoiding my dance class, I knew that the next step was simple - go back to dance class. But just because it was simple didn’t mean it felt easy. And the more class I missed, the more nervous I felt about missing class.
I had a dream one night. I was back stage at a dance recital at my elementary school. It was my turn to perform, so I went out on the stage. I could see my loved ones milling in - my nuclear family, my cousins Kylie and Terry from Canada, my sweetie were all there. But when my music came on, I didn’t know my steps.
The song keeps going and I am trying to remember my steps, but they are not coming to me. I can feel a lump growing in my throat. The song fades out and my dance teacher from my childhood, Alicia, beckons me to come off stage. She’s being sweet and welcoming - assuring me that it’s no big deal, that it happens to everyone, and that I can go back on stage to do my performance at the end of the show. I could just go back stage and look at her notes.
There were three pages of notes. The third one, which I looked at first, was all technical diagrams, sketches, a lot of clutter on the page. I couldn’t tell what it meant. I skipped the second page. The first page was a lined piece of paper with just three words written in magic marker. I don’t actually remember what they were.
After looking at my dance teacher’s notes, I still didn’t remember my steps, but I went back out on stage to try one last time, to see if I might be able to remember my steps. When I looked out at the crowd, none of the people who had come to support me were still there at the show.
“It is normal to go back to dance class after not going for a little while.” I parked my car in downtown Belfast, repeating my little mantra to myself. “It is normal to go back to dance class after not going for a little while.”
It was the day after my dream and I was determined to return to my dance class. I had spent the weekend talking with my friends about missing so much class. While it is normal to go back to dance class after not going for a little while, I did not feel normal about it. It felt very significant to me. And my body was nervous. On my commute home, I tried to call my friends or sisters for some reassurance, but there is never any service when you drive through Lincolnville. I was on my own with my mantra. “It is normal to go back to dance class…”
I walked into the studio, changed into my dance wear. My class was in the lower studio for the day, just like it was on the first night I ever went. It was just M and S and N. When I got there, S gave me a big hug and welcomed me back. And then we got in a circle, and started doing our warm ups. When we were learning our choreography, I noticed what S was doing with her foot to keep up her momentum when she spun, and gave it a try myself. When it worked, S let out a cheer. “Nice, Cam!”