body language
# 1
Last night I went to a dance workshop called sex siren & sensuality. Sex Siren is a category in Ballroom and Ballroom is a culture created by Trans women in New York City in the 60s. It is (LGBTQ) activism culture as well as competitive performance art and dance (vogueing) and sex siren is one of the categories people can compete in.
The category was created by sex workers and is about expressing, celebrating and performing female sensuality and sexuality. It goes without saying that this is one of the categories I want to compete in when I’m ready.
Yesterday’s Sex Siren class was about posing, showing off your body in flattering ways, performing femininity while standing or walking. But it began sitting down. We were asked to group with people we hadn’t talked to before, and give each-other compliments based on what we see or feel, a classic dance workshop technique that almost immediately puts me in work mode.
I often group with people who are shy or anxious. Maybe I seek them out intuitively. Maybe I am just so explicitly non-shy that others seem shy by comparison. It always goes like this: I join the group, say hi, smile, switch on connect, do my thing, make them feel good, get them to relax. Tension eases, softens. They then say things like “you have such a calming presence, I feel much less nervous somehow”. I then act surprised, say something like “really? That’s so great!” and then group time is over and I breathe out, eager to just shut up and dance.
I find body language fascinating. It is so powerful, just as powerful as spoken language and just like people have difficulties expressing themselves with words, others are uncomfortable expressing themselves physically - like the girls in my group. “I almost cancelled”, one of them said, “I was so nervous!” Both girls were mainstream-pretty, looks that fit in, appearances that easily please, don’t disrupt. Yet both said they don’t feel comfortable in their bodies. “I don’t have a regular moving practice, so I don’t feel connected to my body at all,” the younger one said.
It always confuses me when I hear people talk about having or not having a “moving practice”. What is a moving practice anyway? Sounds dogmatic and complicated. Like a chore. Yet another thing we need to book, purchase, train, get trained in, schedule and do to be whole and happy. What happened to swaying from side to side when a good song comes on or even just tapping your foot to the beat of whatever really. What about running, walking, stretching with intention. What about sex, touching yourself and others. When did we begin needing a scheduled moving practice to feel good in our own bodies?
# 2
I dated a guy once, Adam, who was surprised I was a dancer and a writer. “That’s fascinating,” he said, “people are usually either one or the other!” “I don’t think that’s true at all, but okay,” I said or probably thought. Adam was a musician. He was great with creating sound but he preferred to let other people dance to it. He was more in his mind than in his body, not that there is anything wrong with that. I pretty much forgot all about Adam but his fascination with me being a writer and a dancer stuck with me. I don’t like to be put on a pedestal, it makes me uncomfortable, especially when I feel I am put up there unjustly. Many people write and dance. It’s not that special. I actually think writing and dancing are very similar. Both are about rhythm and musicality and choosing the right vocabulary for feelings you want to evoke. Both languages speak the soul while remaining silent. Both are very private and internal while exposing everything and connecting with the world.
I feel much more confident dancing or writing than speaking. I love speaking in a one-on-one or small group setting. But the idea of speaking in front of a crowd terrifies me. Even a basic introduction to a larger amount of people makes me nervous. "Just tell us your name and briefly why you are here..." Eww, no! Gross!
I’d much rather introduce myself dancing butt naked.
# 3
My body is fluent in more than one language. It speaks several languages and dialects. Maybe that inevitably comes with being a woman. I can move sultry and sensual like a Jessica Rabbit, pushing out hips, butt, boobs, exaggerating my femininity and performing it to the point of offensive. It’s ridiculously fun and liberating and feels like home. It is what pulled me towards stripping, and ultimately into other areas of adult work. It wasn’t the money or the power, those were added benefits, it was the opportunity to let my body speak its mother tongue.
I am very conscious of my language and especially my body language. I am aware of its effect, the attention a certain dialect attracts or doesn’t attract. I am aware of how and what my body communicates and I use its vocabulary intentionally. I can be the magnetic siren in one moment and an invisible tomboy in the next. I can please and fit in and I can disrupt and offend. I am aware of my presence and I can dim my light if I feel it casts too much shadow or attracts the kind of attention that won’t do me good.
That’s why I love being in the presence of performers, misfits and free-spirited wild-childs - the kind of people often judged for being too much, for being too there, for taking up too much space. In their company, I can dial up to the max and put my energy on high voltage!
There’s no risk of casting shadows when everybody else’s light is dialled up too.