Accepting My Fate

I can feel the vibration under my feet. Stemming from the raw energy and emotion of the people surrounding me, fueling my skin at the same rhythm of the violin chords. Bodies move in a mass improvisation. But they are not humans, they are separate notes quivering in the space, creating a symphony of stillness and chaos. Bodies trained to be so elegant created an amoeba of pure vulnerability. Soon the bodies around me freeze, and I can feel the warmth of the spotlight on my face. I begin again, my delicate silhouette transcending into a fully lit, moving creature. My body took over my mind, as I wasn’t moving from knowledge. Every cell was exuding sorrow, sin, love, and honesty. Something inside of me was making me move, and that was when I knew. It didn’t matter if I loved to dance, or hated it. This is the moment I knew that dance wasn’t about me, that being an artist was not my choice.

Just as being a dancer was out of my control, there are multiple aspects of my life I did not get to choose. I didn’t choose to be born into a conservative community. I didn’t choose to be born in a female body. And I didn’t choose to be an artist. This was my nature. And I hate to bring in the Nature vs. Nurture argument, as we discussed this idea since the fourth grade, but I find importance in understanding that some parts of my identity are out of my control- I was born this way. These innate aspects of my life, being a dancer, woman, and resident of Clovis, are completely detached from one another, but they intertwine in my life creating the “enviromental factors” that nurture my identity. The coexsistance of the different parts of my being has created internal obstacles I must overcome, which make me the emotional and intellectual human I am today.

The environment one grows up in and gender one is born is obviously not determined by the child- it is by faith or luck or whatever you believe in. But some may argue that being a dancer falls under a different category. Because we are alive and knowing, we have the ability to pick our career path, therefore they claim I choose this life of a “starving artist.” I remember being shown James Baldwin’s Speech, The Moral Responsibility of an Artist, in my freshman year Choreography and Composition class. He was the first person to acknowledge that we can hate the form of art but still have a burning sensation inside that drives you to create. He states, “no one person, in his right mind, wants to be a poet (artist), we are possessed.” Possessed, is a strong word with a negative connotation. But for once, a pronounced artist didn’t equate their artform with love, passion, and joy. He wasn’t ignoring the reality of pursuing an art. Because being an artist is not all glory, love, and expression; it is hard-underappreciated work, filled with universal doubt and is subsequent in the eyes of society.

The first time I truly realized how undervalued and overlooked art was, was when I told my community I was becoming a dance major. The adults in my life were so proud to hear I was going to USC. They always would commend me on my hardwork in school and admire how intelligent I must have been to have gotten into such a prestigious school. I would thank them, and tell them artistic abilities definitely helped my admission process. But, when I said I was studying dance, I got one of the three responses:

1. “So are you double majoring, or planning to switch.”

2. “That’s fun, and at least you are at a good school.”

3. And the most degrading of them all, “That’s great honey, but what are you really going to do for, you know, a real job,” (Litle, Post 2: We All Have Something To Say).

But dance was my real job, it was what I needed to contribute to the world. It’s a sad thing, really, that society has no concept of what art can do for the world. An artist’s sole purpose in life is to expose the people to the “delusion of something resembling the truth.” Artists were born with the ability to see life as it is, not through the blurred lens society has created. They innately know the truth and have the responsibility “enlighten the people around them.” An artist is the only person on this planet that can explain “what it is like to survive, what it is like to die, what is it like to fear death, what it is like to feel, what it is like to love”- without ever experiencing a drop of it (Baldwin, The Artist’s Struggle for Integrity). Nobody really knows how or why they can do this. But by revealing these things, artists uncover the true backbones and morals we should live by and shift our perspective- they reveal the truth of life.

When I was a young teenager, I easily got wrapped up in this delusion of truth my town had created for its women. The adults made it appear as if they were rooting for every kid’s success- they encouraged both boys and girls to go to follow their dreams and go to college. But I soon realized that for the girls, this was all just for show. They didn’t really want to produce intellectual and independent women, but they wanted to “help” the girls appear as if they were wife material. While their intentions with the boys was to raise men who were intelligent, financially stable, and emotionally healthy, with the girls, they never truly believed our lives could have substance or meaning. They wanted to create an image of a girl a boy would want to marry.

I think every girl in my town has the uncanny knowing that her fate is marriage. This is what we live for, what we work for, what we strive for. From preschool ages, our moms taught us to curl our hair and put on lip gloss because the boys find it cute. We must cross our legs and sit up straight so they will find us classy and attractive. They tell us to have ambitions and goals and do good in school not to better our souls but to “create a version of yourself no man can pass up.” Because the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow was being someones wife, it was that simple. In the back of my head I knew this was the plan the community has for me, but everything in me wanted to break these norms. I knew that I, and the other girls in my town, were capable of more than just sitting still and looking pretty as someone’s housewife.

In her essay about the struggles of high-achieving women, Rich states, “Our upbringing as a women has so often told us that our wellbeing should come second to our relationships and responsibilities to other people,” and this a premeditated delusion of truth was drilled into my head for as long as we can remember ( 5). Everything I ever did was for the boys, so consequently, I became reliant on male validation. Even as a little girl- from my grandpa, from my father, from my preschool crush- it was my job everyday to please the male eye. I found my worth in filling these requests. As I moved onto high school and relationships got more serious, I realized I couldn’t get this validation from “being cute.” No, the boys had matured, their mindsets has changed, and ultimately, it was about your body. Throughout high school, I struggled with this concept of male validation. I did feel that altering my appearance for men was degrading. The constant need to be skinny enough, pretty enough, have the curves every man desired, have the perfect hair, and perfect outfits, it was exhausting. The same little voice that told me I could be more than just a wife, I could be a dancer, tried ease my thirst for male validation. But something in the back of my mind, whether that be the standards I was raised upon or personal insecurities, told me that I had to try to fit the mold of the perfect women.

I became the vessel for the man I was trying to impress- an object to fill their needs and wants. My 8th grade crush liked girls with curly hair, so you better see me coming to school with curly hair for 6 months. My uncles and male cousins would often say how they enjoyed “toned” girls, so catch me at the gym. My male ballet teachers would often say “could see my lunch,” referring to my side profile, so, you got it, I would definitely skip lunch. As I continued to find my worth in impressing men, these personal changes escalated. At first, it was the simple stuff all high schoolers did (well, at least in my town)- eyelash extensions, fake tans, and long nails. Things that would make me appear prettier than my natural beauty. But soon, that wasn’t enough because I wasn’t altering my body. I stopped eating as much, maybe 500 calories a day. Because it was ingrained in my head that if I was skinny enough, I would be worthy of praise, attention, and love from a man.

I got noticeably thinner, but that did not worry a single person. People would compliment me on my new physique and I even started to be asked out on some more dates. But this was all temporary gratification. I quickly realized that this lifestyle was unattainable, and I found this through my dancing. Because I wasn’t fueling my body, I had no energy. I couldn’t jump as high, turn as fast, and I didn’t have the stamina to make it through my dances. I remember coming offstage from dress rehearsal for my solo variation of “Black Swan.” I barely made it through the ballet piece, falling out of almost every turn, and made it just to the wings so the director couldn’t see and threw up. I was so nauseous from not eating, I threw up water and the 15 cheerios I allowed myself to have that morning. This was the moment the light bulb went off, when I knew I had gone too far. Because as much as I wanted to have the perfect body and continue to get male validation, it was affecting my dancing. And dance was the one thing that kept me grounded, kept me sane, and put things into perspective. I had a responsibility to the art to continue to perform and create, even if that means throwing away my previously instilled beliefs of what made me worthy. I had always had the voice in the back of my head telling me that I could achieve more than what society says women can do, but as I went through adolescence I lost sight of this voice. My integrity as an artist is what made me realize how stupid these beleifs are and snapped me back into reality. Dance showed me that being a woman has no limitations and is something to be celebrated.

After this experience, I started recovery. I started eating more, regained my muscle and stamina, and even started experimenting with different styles of dance. It is proven that the ballet world has a stigma around body types, as George Balanchine (world-renowned ballet choreographer) is known to “enjoy seeing the bones” (Rabin). Eating disorders are very prevalent in ballet culture, so we decided to try out some new genres. And this is when I fell in love with jazz. Jazz is powerful and requires strength and stamina to perform such athletic moves, forcing me to continue in my recovery. It also gave me the opportunity to discover what it really means to be a woman and own your femininity in the dance world, while simultaneously finding my worth as a girl in my home and community life.

I first started to experiment with jazz when I was almost 17 years old. Jazz choreography was strong and powerful, but also feminine and sensual. Although I loved the maturity of the technical movement, it’s feminine style led to a deep personal controversy. One part of me, the girl who wants to break the gender bias of her community, does not want to be seen as just a body. I want men to see me as an intellectual and emotional being, before they see my body. But the other part of me, the dancer in me, wants all the eyes of me. “I want my body to be seen as an emblem of beauty, a piece of art. I am able to create the most physically intriguing positions, emotionally pull an audience in, and produce sensual intensity like no other” (Litle, Ballet is Woman). So if I want to be viewed as a piece of art, am I essentially objectifying myself? Is that part of the job as a dancer?

For a second, I felt like this was all an illusion. The thing that is at the root of my identity, being a dancer, was contradicting these beliefs about womanhood and art that I have worked so hard to finally understand. But even us artists can get caught up in the “delusion of truth.” I can be a dancer who is admired for the art her body creates and still be a girl who wants to be seen as a soul over a sexual being. In a world where the objectification of women is normalized and art is underappreciated, it is easy for society to lose its humanity, to not be able to differentiate the two. But these two things should be able to coexist. In my life, it is this duality that makes me the person I am today.

Maybe fate made me an artist because fate made me a woman- maybe these don’t exist despite one another, but because of one another. I never choose to have this body, I never choose to be a girl, and I never choose to be born into a community who roots its way of life in the objectification of women- but here I am. Without this underlying responsibility I hold as an artist and undeniable need to continue dancing, I would never have been able to overcome my eating disorder. Without the confidence and power dance has given me, I wouldn’t have the courage to continue to go against my community’s standards for its women.

I am the intellect and human I am today because of nature, because of fate. Although I am very fortunate, the path fate has carved for me has nit been a steady road. There has been confusion, doubt, hills to climb, and rivers to cross. But, something up above gave me these aspects of my identity that I cannot run from. And as I learned to dive into the these aspects of myslef, I continue to nurture the women and artist I am and hope to become.

Works cited:

“James Baldwin — The Artist’s Struggle for Integrity (Full Recording).” YouTube, YouTube, 23 July 2015, www.youtube.com/watch?v=dU0g5fAA2QY.

“James Baldwin: The Moral Responsibility of the Artist.” YouTube, YouTube, 5 May 2017, www.youtube.com/watch?v=PlnDbqLNv-M.

Litle, Paige. “Ballet Is Woman.” Medium, Writing 150 Spring 2021, 7 Feb. 2021, medium.com/writing-150-spring-2021/ballet-is-woman-e47dd35dfe0b.

Litle, Paige. “Post 2: We All Have Something to Say.” Medium, Writing 150 Spring 2021, 7Feb.2021,medium.com/writing-150-spring-2021/post-2-we-all-have-something-to-say-7d7fc8439b48

Rabin, Lauren. “Ballet Is Known to Destroy Body Image, So Why Is It Trending Right Now?” Verily, Verily, 1 Nov. 2017, verilymag.com/2017/11/misty-copeland-ballerina-ballet-dance-barre-class.

Rich , Adrienne. “Claiming An Education.” Douglass College , 1997.