Why? Why do I dance? Let me tell you....

I've been asked by so many people over the years why I dance. They want to know why I'd do something that 'unusual.' Makes me smile when they say that. Here's why:

At my day job, I work in an analytical chemistry lab. I have a degree in chemistry. That makes me a certified geek in many circles. An outcast of sorts. When people I've just met ask me what my profession is and I tell them, "Chemist," they usually get a frightened look on their face and change the subject.

I'm used to it. At times, I rather enjoy it.

The thing I had to get used to was the reaction I get from my chemistry peers at work when I tell them about my bellydancing. Some are utterly fascinated. Some are simply aghast. Almost all of them have asked me the same question: "Why would you do that?"

Over time, I have developed a list of pat answers: It's good exercise. It's fun. I like to learn new things. It keeps me out of the bars (usually). And occasionally, I've admitted that it's the clothes, really.

All of those answers are correct in some way. But for those who really want to know, for the women who take me aside and ask me about it, this is what I tell them:

It's the sisterhood. It's about being a part of something that is bigger than the sum of its parts. It's about meeting a woman from Argentina and having something in common with her besides gender. It's about finally getting to meet Rachel Brice (be still my heart!) and discovering after the fact that she had been dancing along and following our on-stage performance while waiting backstage for her turn.

When I started dancing, I joined a worldwide network of women who are of a like mind. We do not all dance the same style. We do not all wear the same costuming. We do not all speak the same language in our day-to-day lives. But we understand each other in a subtle, but fundamental way.

In my childhood, I grew up with a single sibling. A brother. I love him dearly. In my 40's I'm refusing to grow up along with hundreds of thousands of other women. These women are my sisters in dance. Even though I may not know them personally, I also love them dearly. It's all part of being a bellydancer. It's why I keep doing this crazy thing. It's why I keep making the costuming. It's in my blood. It's chemistry.

So this is for all my dancing sisters. The ones I know, like the ladies in Troupe Sicorae. And the ones I don't know personally. Love to all.

Earth Day 2010: A celebration

This year, Earth Day turns 40. It is hard for me to believe, but there it is. I love the fact that it is still going strong after all this time. The force behind it hasn't waned a bit. Judging by the attendance of the festival, the force is growing and gaining momentum. We had a small trailer by the stage generating the power we used for microphones and etc. They had a wind turbine and solor panels rigged up. It was so green!

Today we celebrated in the center of the park in the center of town. My dance troupe, Troupe Sicorae, along with Hallie Tibbs of Basharaat, danced for about 30 minutes on the band shell stage to a medium sized audience.

We had a blast! We had live drummers for an organic feel. I even got out my drum and pounded along with the beat. When the performing was done, we all went out in the audience and cajoled some people to come up and dance with us. Young and old, male and female (and one canine) they came. It was beautiful and uplifting. Like it always is for me.

I get a rush out of dancing. Whether it's in the studio with the girls, on stage for the world or in my kitchen to the beat of my ipod, I get a rush. Dancing is as fundamental to me as breathing.

I spoke with a couple ladies today with special needs for their costume pieces. I'm working on a choli for a special lady. It's a challenge for me. But it's a challenge I will meet head on. I can do this. I have to do this so she can dance. She needs to dance.

Just like me.

Starting at the Beginning

My interest in dance started at a very young age. When I was a young girl, I had observed my girlfriends going to ballet class. Naturally, I wanted to join them. Imagine my little girl shock to learn that I was 'far too large of a girl' to be a dancer.

Fast forward to age 41or so. A lifetime later. I'd been participating in aerobic dance classes. The endless repetition of the same old moves was wearing not only on my knees and ankles, but also on my nerves. The loud jarring music, the constant urging by the far too thin instructor to keep moving and the utter exhaustion that pretty much canceled out the rest of the day finally broke my spirit and I quit. Sometimes I think I'd like to go back, but then a creak in the knee or a ping in the ankle changes my mind.

Shortly after this quiet divorce between me and my only outlet for physical activity that did not involve a large gardening tool, I saw some cabaret style bellydancers at an outdoor ethnic festival. I could see the women were all close to my age and as they fluttered and spun on the stage, I felt a lift in my spirits. I waited for the performance to be over, and I approached the women, secured a business card and a time and place for a lesson.

My first bellydance lesson was something of a fiasco. I was one of 2 new students in the class and the teachers were at once helpful and off-putting. I borrowed the red coin scarf and tied it around my hips over my grey sweat pants and struggled to follow along as they haltingly taught me a choreography. We finally ended the class with a short demonstration by the teachers of what we could eventually expect the be able to do.

I was less than impressed. I was largely disappointed. Clearly, this bellydance thing was not for me. I resigned myself to the fact that my long ago run-in with the dance teacher was actually true and I was far too large of a girl to be dancing.

About a year later, I was at that same ethnic festival enjoying the dancing on the stage. The next act was announced and this group of women in the most outlandish costumes I had ever seen took the stage by storm. They danced together. The audience clapped and the music was uplifting and exciting. They looked happy. The looked AT each other and smiled. They weren't dancing for us, the audience. They were dancing for themselves. It wouldn't have mattered if the audience were there at all. I could see that they would be doing this in their living rooms or the park or the sidewalk downtown and be just as happy.

A moment of crystal clarity hit me and I made note of the name of the group. I was unable to catch the attention of the dancers in the crowd as they made their way to their next performance on the other side of the festival. A few days later, I plucked up my courage, looked them up in the phone book and called.

My first lesson was early on a Saturday morning. The teacher was fun and engaging. She smiled. She told me stories about her life. She asked me about myself and my life. She taught me the basics in that first hour and by the time I had walked out the door, I knew I was hooked.

The teacher, Barb, taught me a particular style of dance that day. She called it American Tribal Style Bellydance. ATS for short. Today, more than 5 years later, I am still hip deep in my love affair with this style of dance. It is as much a part of me as my love for gardening or for dogs. I can't seem to stop and Lord knows I've tried. It's in my blood. This sisterhood makes me stronger because it is bigger than the sum of its parts. It is bigger, it seems, than even I could be.