Over winter break I saw a community production of the Nutcracker. One of the main dancers had the typical ballet body -- all impossibly long lines and narrow frame. She was a decent dancer.
The other main dancer was bigger, what we might call plus-size. I was taken aback: you should have heard the critical commentary going on in my mind. But after her third solo, I succumbed to her talent. I was completely taken in by her strength, agility, and grace. Not a word was said but my mind was blown wide open as I faced my own internalized body shaming, the toxic poison I've absorbed every minute of every day in this culture, in this city.
It might help to know I was a dancer, from the age of 8 until high school. I LOVED ballet. It was my outlet, where I could wring out and exactingly siphon off all the pain and longing of my frequently traumatized existence. My blood-stained pointe shoes were a source of pride more than pain. I didn't know enough then or have adequate sense of entitlement to pursue a dancer's path. And at the time, what convinced me to quit was puberty, the sprouting of curves frowned on in ballet. I was never invited to join the ballet company and I assumed it was because all the other girls were still flat-chested. Maybe I wasn't good enough. I know for sure though that it was not the last time my woman's body would betray me.
That's why I'm going to the trouble of posting this: the woman who started Pretty Big Movement is a hero. Her conviction -- in the face of prevailing standards-- awes me. https://www.facebook.com/TheSceneVideo/videos/1262782497122434/
Art changes minds.
#shero #artivist
The other main dancer was bigger, what we might call plus-size. I was taken aback: you should have heard the critical commentary going on in my mind. But after her third solo, I succumbed to her talent. I was completely taken in by her strength, agility, and grace. Not a word was said but my mind was blown wide open as I faced my own internalized body shaming, the toxic poison I've absorbed every minute of every day in this culture, in this city.
It might help to know I was a dancer, from the age of 8 until high school. I LOVED ballet. It was my outlet, where I could wring out and exactingly siphon off all the pain and longing of my frequently traumatized existence. My blood-stained pointe shoes were a source of pride more than pain. I didn't know enough then or have adequate sense of entitlement to pursue a dancer's path. And at the time, what convinced me to quit was puberty, the sprouting of curves frowned on in ballet. I was never invited to join the ballet company and I assumed it was because all the other girls were still flat-chested. Maybe I wasn't good enough. I know for sure though that it was not the last time my woman's body would betray me.
That's why I'm going to the trouble of posting this: the woman who started Pretty Big Movement is a hero. Her conviction -- in the face of prevailing standards-- awes me. https://www.facebook.com/TheSceneVideo/videos/1262782497122434/
Art changes minds.
#shero #artivist
1/10/17 8:04pm
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