Dancing My Way to Joy and Empowerment

For centuries, women have been told how, and how not, to express themselves, especially when it comes to their bodies. Patriarchal worldviews, beliefs, and policies have sought to control women’s self expressions. Women have been shamed for their desires and their sexuality, considered irrational for their emotions, and dismissed for aspiring to more. Many women still live with such suppression. Personally, I have spent years working my way out from under it and, on that journey, I have found dance.

Dance has provided an outlet for me to fully inhabit my body, express my emotions, feel joy, and find community. Dancing is cathartic; it has been used throughout history to express difficult emotions and to tell stories when words are not enough.

So often, women’s bodies have been treated like objects to be enjoyed by the male gaze, rather than subjects in search of their own enjoyment. When we use dance as a means to express ourselves, we can reclaim our bodies as sources of life, sensuality, sexuality, and pleasure. When dancing, we are in control of what our body does, the way it moves, and how much of it we have covered (or not). It is a physical representation of the immovable fact that our body belongs to us and no one else. This act is freeing, and having an outlet to express our desire through our bodies  is empowering for dancers of all genders and identities.

Of course, members of 2SLGBTQ+ communities know better than anyone how dancing is an important means  of expression that creates a sense of belonging by celebrating the body and sexuality more broadly. The ballroom community, for example, which originated in New York City in the last century, is a subculture created by Black and Latino 2SLGBTQ+ people. The ballroom scene has created a safe space for gay and trans folks to be present as their true authentic selves and feel accepted. In the 1980s in particular, the scene became a space for activism and community care during the AIDS epidemic. The drag and ballroom scenes continue to create political spaces to this day that are safe for gay and trans folks to express themselves and be their true authentic selves, together. Although drag and ballroom are not the same, as a queer person I have felt welcomed and accepted when attending drag shows and performances in 2SLGBTQ+ spaces. 

Dance and the performing arts scenes have long been ableist and fatphobic spaces, but this is changing. Now, the expectation of thinness is dwindling. In The Arch Method, the dance program in which I have been dancing for the past six years, everyone is welcome. In an effort to make the dance world more accessible, many dance teachers include variations of movements when they teach choreography. This makes their class more inclusive for people with disabilities or mobility limitations. More people are getting the opportunity to enjoy the benefits of dance.  

In The Arch Method, people of all sizes, genders, and abilities are welcome. It doesn’t require any dance experience to sign up and there is no age limit–you just have to be 18 or older. This makes the program special because it provides people who are interested in dancing with an opportunity that they may not otherwise have. I had danced for a few years as a child but pursued other extracurricular activities throughout my teenage years. I wondered if it was too late for me to jump back into dancing. It turns out, it wasn’t. 

The Arch Method is a heels dance performance and training program. It works with people of all abilities and experience levels to help them gain dance skills and self-confidence. It has given me an invaluable outlet to express myself. I have also made a lot of friends along the way and am a part of a community that gives me a  sense of belonging.

For me, dance is joy. It is freedom for physical and emotional self-expression; it is catharsis. It is both feminine and masculine; existing beyond socially constructed categories. Dance is a way to push my body’s limits to see what I am capable of. It is also humbling in that it teaches me that sometimes certain movements  do not come easily and that it is important to be patient and compassionate in the process of learning and growing. 

Dance is an outlet for me when managing my mental health and it has allowed me to express my emotions  in a way I cannot anywhere else. I almost always leave dance class in a better headspace than when I arrived, and the happiness and excitement that comes from performing on stage is unmatched. There is nothing quite like the feeling of performing for a crowd, having all my hard work and exuberance  on display, and then finally, hearing the audience’s applause.

Having a dance class to look forward to means I am making dedicated time for joy. If this sounds appealing to you, seek out a dance class yourself, or just make a point of dancing in your living room. When was the last time you did something just for fun? Just for you? Sometimes we can forget that we deserve joy, that we can celebrate our bodies exactly as they are. Let your body move to remind you of what it can feel like. I promise you, it’s life changing.

By Kristen Denine Mogridge (she/her), Care Plan Facilitator, Managed Alcohol Program, St. John’s Status of Women Council