This hits. I was never good at taking up space, particularly as a kid. I liked to dance, though, but after letting go spectacularly at one middle school dance and being teased for it, I quit. I found other ways to take up space and sometimes I dance with my dogs or have been known to cut loose a little bit under the right combination of alcohol, low lighting, and good friends, but I never got back the abandon that 12-year-old me had.
It seems obvious to me that your ability to captivate people was one of the things that most attracted your ex-husband, and how unfortunate it is that we (*cough*men*cough*) can so selfishly strangle the best qualities in our loved ones. Wishing for you to reclaim all the glory of your groove. :)
This connects with me on many levels, not least via the beauty of your writing.
My then-husband and I took a ballroom dance class together as a distraction (ha, as if) after my mom died. We didn't dance together well at all, in part because I had a much better sense of rhythm (being a musician in high school) than he; I couldn't let him lead. We were spectacularly bad at the tango; another partner brought out all the sensuality of that dance with me, yet I never felt a spark between us and don't remember his name... just the glorious dancing with him.
The movement medium that resonated best with me is karate; it's both a solo and partnered practice where my kids and I trained. For a time, I was the only female practitioner at our dojo, among several younger men with physical jobs (carpenter, firefighter, etc.). I felt an obligation not only to claim my own space, but to hold space for future female students. After we left (we moved out of state), my son revealed that several of those big men were intimidated by me, because I never let up on them. Trying to reclaim that feeling now.
I have joined dance meet up groups, but haven’t actually gone. I think this might be exactly what I need. Conducting chorus brings that connective, musical joy for me. But not the same way as dance.
Once again I am so moved by your words. Arlene was such a powerful force for so many. I got to be part of an African dance class at Westtown and loved it. It is time for me to find a class…thanks for the nudge!!
Whew Asha, this is powerful stuff. Taking up physical and energetic space is an interesting thing. It can be a skill we learn, lose, and re-learn as you said. As I was reading your essay I could feel the energy arrive and drain away and now begin to seep in. This is an inspiring reminder to continue to step fully into myself.
You make such great observations. I’ve always tried to make myself small and unimposing. Dance is the one outlet where one can express physically and feel safe taking up space. Thank you🙏🏻🌸
Asha Sanaker: A woman is naturally free and her inner spirit can fill whole rooms. As a husband of 51 years (and in love with Nancy 53), She who is free with her friends and her passions brings joy and love to those around her. I am happily governed by Nancy and my two daughters and my 16-year-old granddaughter and my granddaughter's two cats. The man who scorns a woman's freedoms and passions is very poor, indeed. The blessing, the joy in my life is my beautiful Nancy and my women (the daughters and granddaughter). I am very sorry you had that experience, and I am very, very happy you live in freedom to fill the room and the hall.
I love that this entire piece is about taking up space (or not) and your transitions and self awareness around where you’d like to be and where you are. I was inspired in so many ways by this and I think it’s time for me to find a dance class. 🙏
Can’t express in words how wonderfully yours captured the experience of being a student of Arlene’s…and then going to our college, and out into the world, where dance often doesn’t have the same meaning or context. That experience in high school was profound for me too, and you’ve expressed it beautifully. Love your Cuba experience! Somehow missed that chapter of your story before. Thank you, Asha ❤️ Thank you for this one. ❤️🌀💃
I'm diving headfirst into the art of staking my claim in this mad, mad, mad world, standing my ground with a fierce resolve. It's a wild ride, realizing that my very essence, the sound of my voice, and the actions I take aren't just whispers in the void—they're deafening roars. I'm wrestling with the notion of vulnerability, embracing the raw chaos of speaking my truth, and finding a strange power in the unfiltered authenticity of being unapologetically me.
My life has had a very similar dance trajectory, and it's been missing from my life for longer than I care to think about. When I think back to when I was happiest and most free in my younger years, it often has something to do with dance.
I moved to a relatively small town in Montana almost 16 years ago and found that those type of outlets were limited here, but your post has inspired me to start looking again. I can say that discovering Pickleball this past summer has given me a bit of a jolt the same way that dance once did. It feels easy, free, and I laugh a lot. I thought the answer I've been looking for in finding even more happiness and satisfaction was more Pickleball, but after reading your post, I think I'm going to try and find a dance class this week.
Thanks for sharing your story. I can sense how vulnerable this is. I too love dancing and while not officially have had as many formal lessons as you may have, I have taken it up now and agai, including salsa and all other types of Latin American dance. Dancing, for me, ignites a certain kind of joy that blows all other questions away in my mind. While I loved partner dancing, it's being a dance performer where I feel I do take up space. And whether my steps are completely in sync or perfect as my other co-performers, all that will still fall away. Now, the bigger challenge for me is to take that feeling and take up space in other areas of my life, including my writing.
This hits. I was never good at taking up space, particularly as a kid. I liked to dance, though, but after letting go spectacularly at one middle school dance and being teased for it, I quit. I found other ways to take up space and sometimes I dance with my dogs or have been known to cut loose a little bit under the right combination of alcohol, low lighting, and good friends, but I never got back the abandon that 12-year-old me had.
It seems obvious to me that your ability to captivate people was one of the things that most attracted your ex-husband, and how unfortunate it is that we (*cough*men*cough*) can so selfishly strangle the best qualities in our loved ones. Wishing for you to reclaim all the glory of your groove. :)
This connects with me on many levels, not least via the beauty of your writing.
My then-husband and I took a ballroom dance class together as a distraction (ha, as if) after my mom died. We didn't dance together well at all, in part because I had a much better sense of rhythm (being a musician in high school) than he; I couldn't let him lead. We were spectacularly bad at the tango; another partner brought out all the sensuality of that dance with me, yet I never felt a spark between us and don't remember his name... just the glorious dancing with him.
The movement medium that resonated best with me is karate; it's both a solo and partnered practice where my kids and I trained. For a time, I was the only female practitioner at our dojo, among several younger men with physical jobs (carpenter, firefighter, etc.). I felt an obligation not only to claim my own space, but to hold space for future female students. After we left (we moved out of state), my son revealed that several of those big men were intimidated by me, because I never let up on them. Trying to reclaim that feeling now.
I have joined dance meet up groups, but haven’t actually gone. I think this might be exactly what I need. Conducting chorus brings that connective, musical joy for me. But not the same way as dance.
Once again I am so moved by your words. Arlene was such a powerful force for so many. I got to be part of an African dance class at Westtown and loved it. It is time for me to find a class…thanks for the nudge!!
Whew Asha, this is powerful stuff. Taking up physical and energetic space is an interesting thing. It can be a skill we learn, lose, and re-learn as you said. As I was reading your essay I could feel the energy arrive and drain away and now begin to seep in. This is an inspiring reminder to continue to step fully into myself.
This is beautiful, thank you
You make such great observations. I’ve always tried to make myself small and unimposing. Dance is the one outlet where one can express physically and feel safe taking up space. Thank you🙏🏻🌸
Asha Sanaker: A woman is naturally free and her inner spirit can fill whole rooms. As a husband of 51 years (and in love with Nancy 53), She who is free with her friends and her passions brings joy and love to those around her. I am happily governed by Nancy and my two daughters and my 16-year-old granddaughter and my granddaughter's two cats. The man who scorns a woman's freedoms and passions is very poor, indeed. The blessing, the joy in my life is my beautiful Nancy and my women (the daughters and granddaughter). I am very sorry you had that experience, and I am very, very happy you live in freedom to fill the room and the hall.
I love that this entire piece is about taking up space (or not) and your transitions and self awareness around where you’d like to be and where you are. I was inspired in so many ways by this and I think it’s time for me to find a dance class. 🙏
Can’t express in words how wonderfully yours captured the experience of being a student of Arlene’s…and then going to our college, and out into the world, where dance often doesn’t have the same meaning or context. That experience in high school was profound for me too, and you’ve expressed it beautifully. Love your Cuba experience! Somehow missed that chapter of your story before. Thank you, Asha ❤️ Thank you for this one. ❤️🌀💃
I'm diving headfirst into the art of staking my claim in this mad, mad, mad world, standing my ground with a fierce resolve. It's a wild ride, realizing that my very essence, the sound of my voice, and the actions I take aren't just whispers in the void—they're deafening roars. I'm wrestling with the notion of vulnerability, embracing the raw chaos of speaking my truth, and finding a strange power in the unfiltered authenticity of being unapologetically me.
Go big or go home.
Asha, I just saw this, about how dance is one of the most effective anti-depressants: https://twitter.com/erikphoel/status/1760338273153568956
Oh my you’ve said so much in this piece.
Thank you so much. It speaks deeply to me in many ways.
Oh modern dance, how I miss you so.
My life has had a very similar dance trajectory, and it's been missing from my life for longer than I care to think about. When I think back to when I was happiest and most free in my younger years, it often has something to do with dance.
I moved to a relatively small town in Montana almost 16 years ago and found that those type of outlets were limited here, but your post has inspired me to start looking again. I can say that discovering Pickleball this past summer has given me a bit of a jolt the same way that dance once did. It feels easy, free, and I laugh a lot. I thought the answer I've been looking for in finding even more happiness and satisfaction was more Pickleball, but after reading your post, I think I'm going to try and find a dance class this week.
Thanks for sharing your story. I can sense how vulnerable this is. I too love dancing and while not officially have had as many formal lessons as you may have, I have taken it up now and agai, including salsa and all other types of Latin American dance. Dancing, for me, ignites a certain kind of joy that blows all other questions away in my mind. While I loved partner dancing, it's being a dance performer where I feel I do take up space. And whether my steps are completely in sync or perfect as my other co-performers, all that will still fall away. Now, the bigger challenge for me is to take that feeling and take up space in other areas of my life, including my writing.