Empowered through dance

Dance not only gave me an outlet for self-expression, it empowered me to transition in several ways: by helping me connect with my body, by helping me connect with and giving me and outlet to express my emotions, by challenging and enabling me to take risk and by offering me an outstanding support community.

Most of my life I never really liked my body. I’m sure part of this was the effect of gender dysphoria, the feeling of not fitting in my skin. But it went beyond that. I don’t recall my parents ever body-shaming me, but body-shaming exists even among young males. I can recall an incident in the third grade in which I was mocked in the boy’s restroom because of how I used the urinal (which, strictly speaking, isn’t body-shaming, but yet had the effect of making me all the more self-conscious of my body.) As I played sports I always felt awkward and clumsy. When I played soccer in high school I hated the locker room. Not only did I despise the hyper-masculinity of that environment, I also was so uncomfortable with my body that I wanted to hide it from all eyes. Over the years I grew to accept the basic form but I cannot say that I ever truly felt happy with my body, much less that I thought I could celebrate it. Dancing changed all that. When I first started dancing I hated observing myself in the mirror. It made me uncomfortable, awkward, embarrassed. But the more I danced, the more I became aware of the amazing body I possessed. I saw it grow in form and in strength, and I came to realize that the body is not something to be ashamed of. It’s not something sinful or evil (as often ends up being communicated in religious settings that emphasis the sinfulness of the “flesh.”) The body is something to celebrate, and dance gives me the tools to do so in a way that is powerful, expressive and beautiful. As my body changes shape to match my identity now I feel more and more comfortable with it. Even as I embrace my inner identity, I can also embrace the outward form that is me as well, with all its flaws and beautiful imperfections.

In my childhood and youth I learned not to express emotion. I love my family, don’t get me wrong. But I did not see emotion expressed in a healthy way in it. We generally avoided too much emotional expression altogether. Anger was about the only emotion that saw expression, and even that usually simmered until it exploded. I internalized this and carried it into my marriage. I tried to express my love and other emotions, but it was like trying to write a novel with a vocabulary of only a couple hundred words. In the months of my transition I have become more conscious of my emotions and have begun to feel them more deeply. I don’t have to hide them or be embarrassed by them. I’m sure the hormones help in this process. As I have come to connect more fully with my emotional side, I have thankfully also found the ability and environment to express them through dance. Dance class is often a cathartic time as I pour my sometimes overwhelming emotions into bodily motion. Sometimes it is joy just bursting out. At other times grief and sorrow find expression. The vocabulary of dance is a vast and varied as the range of human emotion.

Prior to taking up dancing I generally avoided risk. This is not an absolute statement, as taking my family to Russia, among other steps in my life, was certainly a risky venture. However, in general I have always chosen to play it safe, to not push too far beyond my comfort zone, to avoid risk. Because with risk comes the possibility of failure, and I did not want to fail. If I fail, then I am a failure (more on that in a later post). I am also a perfectionist (or, as I prefer to say now, I’m a recovering perfectionist.) I never liked to try something unless I felt fairly confident that I could be successful at it. Needless to say, that seriously limited my activities and choices. When I first decided to take ballet class it was a HUGE step for me, because I was consciously choosing to try something in which I had no prior experience and no confidence in my talent for. I had to choose to set aside my perfectionism and allow myself to try, and fail, and then keep trying, knowing that I’d probably never “nail it” because perfection is an unattainable and unrealistic ideal. I also dread the possibility of looking stupid in front of others, of feeling ashamed of myself, of being laughed at or mocked. Dance has empowered me by setting me progressively free of these chains. I am still learning, but I take risks much more confidently and boldly now. I still feel very anxious when I start something new. My stomach was in knots earlier this summer as I drove to the studio to try a new class in a dance form I’d never tried before. But once I got out on the floor, I loved it! Recently in one of my classes the teacher offered each student the opportunity to perform the choreography solo before the rest of the class. With much trepidation I chose to do so (there was no requirement or pressure to do so) and as I danced I set aside all my self-consciousness and fear of what others might think. I poured myself and my emotions into the dance and I LOVED it. For a moment I soared in the freedom of expressing myself in motion. By building my confidence in the studio, I have increasingly gained confidence to be myself outside of the studio as well. I can walk with my head held tall, with assurance in my step and in my gaze because I know who I am and no matter how much I may mess up (and I will), no one can take those things from me.

All of these aspects of empowerment through dance were made possible because of the amazing dance studio I am part of. It is a truly magical place called BreakOut Studios, and the name couldn’t be more appropriate. BreakOut cultivates in everyone who comes there the confidence to step out of their limitations, to push their boundaries, to find themselves in new and deeper ways. Everyone is welcomed, not matter how much or how little they have danced. And in every class I have attended (and I’ve attended a lot of them!) I have experienced nothing but support and encouragement from the instructors and between the students. There’s no catty, petty rivalries; no need to one-up another dancer. We’re all there for each other. When I completed the solo I wrote about earlier, my fellow classmates and the instructor exploded with applause and words of encouragement. What a feeling!

I mentioned yesterday how this community has accepted and affirmed me as they have watched, and upheld, me in my transition. They are my second family, the place where I feel so connected. I love being there and wish everyone could have such an amazing community. I wish especially that everyone who is struggling with themselves, whether it be their gender identity or just personal self-confidence, could come experience this amazing place. I cannot imagine going through this transition journey without them and am thankful I don’t have to.

I shared this song that captures so well how I feel about my life. When my friend shared it with me, she shared the lyrical version I posted earlier. But later I discovered the “full” version and when I did I had a second aha moment. Watch it again and I think you’ll understand why.