FROM, BREANA
PHOTOS BY COURTNEY KESSLER
eye knew dance forever
eye was three in the studio
tutu
pink tights
snatched bun
making friends
sanctuary,
a place to wiggle
n run
n take up space
freedom found me in the studio
ready
eye loved it there
where all the girls were
ready to laugh at my jokes
me w my dance bag
ready to whisper
eye kiki-ed w dance
we were homies
dance, my second language
almost my first
show off
even more than the studio made sense to me,
eye loved the stage
three minutes moving
red revlon over vaselined teeth
big
crooked
every tooth showin’
type smile
eye loved dance a long time
before eye started training
before rigor
n class everyday of the week
n u can’t wear that in here
n don’t stop
n don’t rest
and what summer program are u going to?
long before eye could put words
to the sensation eye felt in my body
long before the exhaustion mixed w disdain
n self hate
–
dance tried to
rearrange its grasp on me
n eye slipped into the crowd
dance saw me
n eye sped up
walked after me
a couple hastened steps
n eye averted my gaze
pretending eye was someone else
a business major
dance didn’t search for me long
there’s so many of me,
so many hopefuls waiting
in the wings
or so eye was told
reminded,
near every class
it’s curious
to make a bond
with something,
yourself
fall in love
devote
as u are simultaneously told
how expendable u are
work
work
working
for the sake of working
for the privilege
of being told no
not yet
not enuf
//
we applaud
the ability
to put feelings aside
not feel
don’t cry in the studio
ignore the menstrual cramps turning u inside out
the strain in ur hamstring
that blister covering the bottom of ur foot
or where the blister used to be
before u did grand allegro
the show must go on don’t be daft
perform ill
dance cold
eat later
extend the leg
turn it out
hold
hold
hold
turn it out more
more
keep the foot pointed
point harder
harder
fully extend thru that leg
and down
//
dance was chock full of god like figures
worship
folks larger than life
confident
eye stood in awe
mimicking
hold my wrist
fingers
arm
glance just right
the studio
on a sunday morning
the ultimate site of
ceremony
and for a time
a site of fasting ritual, purging
what parts of myself
can eye look at today:
the dancer’s eye
what is the difference
between fixating on what is wrong
what can be modified
in the mirror
and hurting one’s self, maybe
ballet
one point
in a constellation
of self harm activities
eye employed
//
two decades later
witnessing
a certain carriage
way of speaking
holding one’s self
can transport me
back to a room
a place
the studio
that one teacher
a mentor
that dancer eye emulated upon emulated
(including the eating disorder)
god-like
a workshop
an audition
a number attached to my leotard
(n the run in my tights that eye hoped no one saw)
the barre
under ur hand
the release
turn
the release
n return
place ur hand
but don’t hold on too tight
//
it took ten years to return to dance
return to movement
eye stopped calling myself a dancer
proudly
how could eye live in that space
how do eye go to that place of competition
without imagining my comrade as other
as different
as less than
the breana
that was tired
hungry
lacked support
the fourteen year old who walked to the train
to bart
a 45m ride to another county
to walk down fourteenth street
past the gurls finishing their night work
past the folks who worked the corners
thru cold
heat
with a backpack
and a dance bag digging into their shoulder
this was praised
this was the work
the sacrifice
all of the adults around me
expected it
encouraged it
patted me on the back for my ability
to do the hard thing
oh breana wakes up on their own
gets to class
look at that facility
the body
but where is the technique
the strength
hmm I expected …more
I expected you to deliver
long hours
and sleeplessness
being exhausted
n hungry
is a dangerous place
to build the nervous system
a certain type of staccato piano
can create an instant response in my body
//
now
in my thirties
eye have relearned my second language
reconnected
embraced
eye don’t use
the word dancer
even if my training
is forever harboured
in this body stained
usually eye employ some
euphemism
like movement
never teacher
maybe facilitator
something that brought me such joy
plugged into deep despair
not instantly
but over time
eye had to grow up
heal up
before eye could find myself
back to the studio
safely
eye feel deep gratitude
for my teachers
the humans that cared for me
as eye was learning to
care for myself
eye found many teachers
that were learning gentleness
tip toeing towards it
but it wasn’t a part of the curriculum
they came up on
they knew tough love
n doing the hard thing
n at times emulating that
has saved my butt
let me be clear
eye am grateful
–
eye hope to move until my last day
find pleasure n rhythm in this body
w wrinkles on my face
n white in my hair
eye pray for a
relationship to movement
that changes as eye do
n loves me back
a practice where eye am always enuf
n there is always
time
for gentleness
~~
breana is an interdisciplinary artist, facilitator + healer. they offer movement facilitation virtually and across Albuquerque, NM including at Black Widow Pole Arts + OffCenter Community Art Project. breana serves on the Southwest Contemporary Editorial Advisory Board. their first curatorial work Grief Movement can be found in Encompass opening March 2023 at Harwood Arts Center in Albuquerque, NM.
Note: This poem was first published in Stance on Dance’s spring/summer 2023 print issue. To learn more, visit stanceondance.com/print-publication.
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