August 23rd, 2009
Learning to Dance
On Pointe
A year ago, when I was interviewing the 75 artists whose stories inspired “Shout: Kiss My Art!,” I spoke with a young woman, still in her 20s, who’d given up her dream of being a professional dancer. She cited all the reasons why she was too old to reach her dreams and said she’d made peace with that and moved on in her life to a more writerly existence.
Her story haunts me, 12 months later. Why? To be honest, I don’t believe her. It’s not that I’m calling her a liar. What I mean is that my earliest artistic dream, as I mentioned some time ago, was to become a prima ballerina. My family did the best they could to afford a year of dance lessons for me when I was an “old” newbie ballet dancer at age 10. The dance teacher, well known in my hometown, but I’m guessing not so recognized in the ballet world, told my mother I was dedicated but if I wasn’t going to be any taller than she was (4′8″), I’d never have a career. That was the end of my lessons, and my dreams. Since “the teacher knows best” we believed her vile vision of a dancer without a chance and that was that, at least on the surface.
It has been 30 years and my heart still aches to try to be a dancer of note, at least locally, for one stinkin’ show, dammit. That’s why I don’t believe the girl who wanted to dance has become a woman who is 100% resigned to a writerly life. Call it projection, but I just cannot believe a girl who grew up with so many opportunities to dance and got so far has hung up her shoes for the rest of her lifetime. Dance, like most art, is part of a person’s genetic and spiritual make-up. There’s no other explanation I’m willing to accept on this point.
Which brings me to this: I’m going to learn to dance, ballet, classic style and get on pointe. I came across a forum today where several women started ballet lessons at age 40+ and got on pointe without crippling, bone breaks and raw, bloody hocks. I’ve got a year to get ready for pointe, and them I’m going for it. Place your bets, but remember, a long-silent dancer lives in my soul.
