reflections: playing, exploring, moving through space

Pictured above: dancing at Sticky Rice Magazine’s Vision 2088: A Cyberpunk Outlook party, Montreal 2023

PART ONE

Pictured above: my first year of ballet, at home modelling my uniform (left) picture day: solo shot in my acro costume

I wrote my first dance grant and it ended up being an opportunity to explore my journey in dance and what it means to me. (And it’s a really great exercise for dancers to articulate their practice in words.)

I felt out of place growing up in the world of dance due to class and race; I could only afford recreational classes as a favor to my mother as the hairdresser to the owner of the studio. At a young age I noticed how resources were mostly dedicated towards the kids who competed, allowing them to reach a higher level of skill. The narrative that competitive kids were the best because of hard work and talent conveniently omitted that their parents had the financial means to invest in one-on-one training, studio time and competition fees, thereby implicitly marginalizing rec kids.

Even still in adulthood, though I am a dancer who makes her living through performance, the difference in public perception between a club and a professional dance company is a gap that hasn’t been bridged. What’s professional? What’s art? What is worthy of respect, prestige or recognition? I’m hoping that by sharing my work with people, we’re able to create discourse around equity in dance spaces and move out of gatekeeping it. Fundamentally it feels to me like an expression of the connection between the body and the soul and we should all feel celebrated in it

This post was originally published on Instagram on March 7, 2023.

PART TWO

Pictured above: from my five year anniversary pole shoot, photo by Taya (left); from my first photoshoot, shot by Kaylens (right)

I started doing pole five years ago today.

In that time, a lot has changed and in ways I never would’ve imagined. Eight years ago, despite my love of dance, I gave it up because I didn’t have the means or funds to train to a level where I could pursue a professional career as a viable option.

I just received my first dance projects grant from the Toronto Arts Council. And I’m as excited as I am fucking terrified; while I made the argument based on the fact that I dance at the club three times a week makes it my profession, it hasn’t historically been considered professional. While I’m really grateful for the opportunity to be a part of bridging the gap between skripping and the world of professional dance, the imposter syndrome is real. Although it’s deeply part of my practice, it’s an area I still feel alienated in.

To dance friends and the dance community: hi, I’m here now, I’d love to meet you, I’d love to chat and I’d love to start building with you the foundations for more equitable, inclusive, and joyful spaces of expression. I love you all.

This post was originally published on Instagram on June 8, 2023.