Recently, one of my dancers has brought to my attention that my choreographic content in my dances are all very similar. A colleague mentioned similarities in my movement quality across my dances. These observations weren’t negative (as in everything I make looks the same) but rather insight into my values and stylistic aesthetic.
I create work deriving from Feminist/Womanist Literature. My first work in this realm, uniFLAWED, was inspired by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s “We Should All Be Feminists” via Beyonce’s ***FLAWLESS. My most current work, saiərən, sources Langston Hughes’ poems “Young Prostitute” and “To A Black Dancer in the Little Savoy” as well as inspiration from a feminist outlook on sirens in mythology. My movement vocabulary consists of hips and body rolls and more. It’s been described as sensual and a display of strong women. One of the dancers in saiərən talks about how the dance makes her feel like they’re a bunch of “bad b****** not taking no shit.”
This realization has caused me to question why I’m so drawn to this type of literature and creating this type of work. And through reflection on my life experiences, I quickly found out why.
I’ve always had ass and thighs. Always. Always. Never anything I asked for. Never had anything I could control. And for as long as I could remember, my body has been policed by someone other than me. Can’t wear this, can’t wear that. It’s too short. It’s too tight. As if any of that was my fault. Always have to put clothes on with regard to men. And it bothered me. Always. Even as a child, I found frustration. Everything I did or wore was to be looked at in relationship to a man. I distinctly remember in middle school getting in trouble for wearing a skirt that was “too short” when it literally was the a uniform skirt designed to be long, but my ass hiked it up in the back. I grew to believe my body was inherently wrong. It affected me in more ways than I can even truly explain. I found myself every time I got dressed questioning if what I had on was okay. But for what? Nothing was for myself. My body became for someone else. As someone who has always described myself as a non-conformist (some know about never wearing matching earrings or socks, wearing basketball shorts under dresses, etc), it was stifling. My thighs were bad for simply existing. My ass was bad for simply existing. The idea of “modesty” (whatever tf that means) being reinforced was the last straw. It bothered and no one ever seemed to question why my body was automatically seen as something sexual. Enough was enough.
I find freedom in my work. I move with no regard to what someone thinks about how I should move. I create for empowerment. I create to give opportunities for my dancers and I to discuss experiences surrounding the structures of patriarchy to create our own rebellion. I create for me. Not for anyone else. And especially not for a man.