My Obsession with the Vietnam WarYou might be wondering how the Vietnam War has anything to do with my evolution as a belly dancer. I would argue it inspired me a great deal and in this way: as a young girl I fancied myself a warrior.
My neighbor, a Vietnam veteran, once confessed to me many secrets about his experiences as a soldier in the war. It happened one summer evening, under a tree, in a hammock, after I probed him gently for any information about what it was like to fight a war. He opened up like a broken dam. I felt honored and gifted with this information as he did not talk about it EVER to anyone, not even his wife. I was ten years old.
I became obsessed. I felt like I had been gifted with secret and special information for a deeper purpose, in which I sought to understand. I watched all of the great films of the 80's about the war including: Hamburger Hill, Platoon, Full Metal Jacket etc. (my mom was working at a movie theatre at the time and is not the type of mother to censor). All of my junior high research papers dealt with the subject. I tried to empathize with veterans about their pain of killing and witnessing death by studying their habits of alcoholism and drug abuse. I tried to understand the confusion of fighting for an ideal, but with the realization your efforts are futile. I was consumed with the conflicting emotions of patriotism and betrayal of my country. Around this time I heard about the concept of reincarnation. Combined with my studies of the war, and putting two and two together, I became convinced that I must have been a Vietnam soldier in my past life. I
was born in 1976.
I vividly imagined war scenes at night in my backyard. Armed with a large stick machine gun I fought all bad guys--with a passion for justice I had not discovered before in my youth. I would only retreat to my bunker (bedroom closet) to nurse my young babies. I rescued women and children and I ran my tank (my mother's beat up ford escort) across rough terrain. I was brave, courageous, and fearless. I had a clear purpose and it was to fight, and fight with honor. I became warrior.
My experiences as a soldier in the war of my imagination brought great strength into my later training as a belly dancer (as well as my mothering, which dance is its metaphor). My imaginary experiences in a foreign land with strange customs led to my fascinations with, curiosity about, and examination of "exotic" cultures. Eventually, it led me to an art form, which is in a full-out battle to defend its honor and reputation. I am now a soldier in the movement to elevate the art form into the higher echelons of the dance world where women's sensuality can be celebrated and not feared. Same as always, I am still fighting for freedom.
Past Life ExperiencesSpeaking of past life experiences and reincarnation, I fancy that I was also an ancient temple priestess in the time that the Goddess reigned. There is an aching voice in my soul that yearns for this life again--one of complete and total worship for the powers that be. It is her voice and calling that led be to belly dancing as well.
She cries out to me to honor the temple that is my body. When I am alone at night I often can hear her whispering, "dance, worship, dance!" She is very wise from her lifetimes of serving in the holy practice of preaching, teaching, dancing, performing rituals and healing. She is divine and beautiful and I call on her in times that I need grace, beauty, integrity and wisdom.
She loves the practice of belly dancing more than the performance. She loves the repetition, consistency and discipline. She knows this is sacred practice.
Teen Motherhood
I am the daughter of a teen mother. My mother was 15 years old when I was born. I learned a great deal by watching my mother grow up. She was very strong, determined and quiet. She always taught me that I could be whatever I wanted when I grew up and that a college degree was an absolute necessity for a young woman in today's world. She was married to my father until I was 5 years old, single for 7 years, and married again when I was 12.
When she married my stepfather we moved to the giant city of Tulsa, Oklahoma. (We lived in rural Missouri previously). A few years later, my baby brother was born, and a few years later my first daughter was born, Madelynn Scarlett. I was 17 years old when I became pregnant with her. At this time, I was a strung out IV drug addict. I was living in a car with my boyfriend and only attending school a few days a week.
As a teen I had become disgruntled to put it mildly. I was distraught about my father's abandonment, neglected by my mother's cold emotions, and angry at my new step father's attempt to bring in a false sense of middle class security to our lives. I was also seeing beyond the illusion of class boundaries and societal expectations. I was a freedom seeker even then and I didn't understand all of society's ridiculous rules on behavior. I became extremely rebellious against all of the rules and regulations placed upon me. I intuitively felt that our world was an illusion and that everyone was "faking" life--and that what we were lacking was love and connection.
My new baby girl, Madelynn, brought me the love and connection that I was so hungry for. We moved back to Missouri around this time, Madelynn's father left, I quite drugs for good, and I quickly enrolled into college. I lived on welfare, food stamps, section 8 housing, and any and all forms of assistance I could gather. As Ariel Gore describes it in The Mother Trip "living on welfare in America as a single mother was one of the most radicalizing experiences of my life."
It was not a year after Madelynn's birth that I discovered belly dance. I had been invited to a "Sexy Sadie" party for women only. We were to wear some charade of femininity and celebrate its empowering aspects with other young blooming feminists trying to come to terms with a sexist world. Toward the end of the evening, sultry Middle Eastern music began to play, everyone hushed, and a young woman slowly entered the room. She wore a beautiful hand sewn bra and belt costume made of shells, bells, bones and pearls. She danced for us that night like a goddess incarnate. Tears sprung to my eyes as I watched her. I knew instantly that I was supposed to learn this dance. Her performance changed the course of my life forever.
I quickly signed up for classes and began studying regularly. Belly dance became a practice that offered me a tool to move deeply into life--into the realities of my body, heart, sensuality and sexuality. The more I became aware of this the more I was able to practice being in the present in the midst of the everyday difficulties of being a single, teen mother. Madelynn had already shifted my life toward love and peace, but belly dance offered me a new relationship to my life and body that I knew existed, but wasn't able to access before. Hidden possibilities of this precious life, this glorious community, this interesting family, my sensuous body began to blossom. My confidence in living became enhanced, I could surrender easier to situations, and stretch into who I really am. Dancing is a metaphor for the self discovery of my new capacities as a mother and woman.
To be continued...
