I remember the time when I was afraid to freestyle.

I remember the time when I was afraid to freestyle.
The LIFEtime of being afraid to DANCE. The THING I SAID I WANTED TO DO.

I remember the time when I danced to be good at it.
I wanted to get better.
To look better.
To be more skilled.
To get more approval.
To book more jobs.

I remember the time when my desire to dance turned into control.
Turned into an abuse and domination over my body.

I remember the time when my “love” of dance held on so tightly, that dance couldn’t move.

She couldn’t move.

And all she wanted to do was move through me.

🐍

I’m still shaking off pieces of that story.
That dance is about looking good, or being good.
But finally,
FINALLY,
My body is starting to touch the actual dance.

🪄

The actual thing that moves inside of me.
The thing that f*cking knows how to rock, and shake, and groan, and squirm, and scream, and claw, and roll its hips because that is it’s birth right. Because that is what this body is meant to do.

The thing that actually just quakes beneath my skin at all times.

The constant buzz of aliveness.
Of LIFE.

And when that gets restricted,
Even in the name of movement (gymnastics, dance, yoga, etc),
She clogs up.
Closes.
Stops.

Finally
FINALLY
Dance moves through me.

I’ve been waiting.

😍🤤💥✨

Originally written October 20, 2021.