Since I was five I danced liked a country bumpkin five year old would do I suppose. I do not remember how bad it was, I only remember I let loose and it felt great. I remember that. As I age, as we all do, self-consciousness set in and dancing all but stopped. I slow danced at junior high prom, high school prom I had already dropped out with my GED.
Here I am twenty years later and I have enough sense to understand I love dancing. I love watching it, I love dancing in my cell, I love talking about it. Now…I want to learn it. It is time.
I began writing Seattle based dance studios last month (June), in hopes a choreographer will respond. Someone to come in and teach dance to a group of really excited inmates. Oh, by the way, I am not the only one. Hundreds of inmates want to learn some form of dance, hundreds.
Dancing is a skill, it is also an expression of identity, it tells a story. Some of us carry so much pain and guilt and happiness and joy and there is not anywhere for it to go.
When I am stressed out or happy and I am sure I will have some cell time alone, I will put on my head phones and listen to music as loud as it will go. I let loose, just like when I was wearing my little blue suit. I move as best as I know how, no care as to how foolish I may look learning to twerk or dub step or hold my balance while outstretching my foot and spinning.
Anyway, my search for someone who can teach continues.
Could it be you