Umass Amherst Illusions Dance Team

A Dancer Between Things: Artistry of Self

I recall the first time I held the soft pink vibrant fading to-green fan in my grasp. It’s a large fan, heavy, and spreads open graciously within the palms of my hands when I repetitively do so as I straighten my forward with outstretched arms and a hip bend. 

Here I was, staring at the fan as if it was the greatest thing in the world, and just like that, the loud clapping of our instructor's hands would draw us out of the traditional music that would soon cut off: “again.” She would state.

My instructor is a few years younger than me, and in this wide room, there are twenty of us, dancers for the traditional movement of Chinese dance. 

As the music resumed, I found myself lost in the rhythm, the sway of the fan in my hands becoming an extension of my body. Each movement felt deliberate yet fluid as if I were channeling centuries of tradition through my fingertips. With each graceful sweep, I felt a connection to the women who had danced before me, expressing their identities through movement just as I was doing now. At that moment, the fan was more than just an accessory—it was a symbol of cultural heritage and personal expression intertwined. As I navigate the floors with the other women, our bare feet connecting to the hardwood flooring with each turn and pivot, I realize how much I have done this very same motion with my identity and life. Being a Black dancer adds an extra layer of complexity. It necessitates a heightened awareness of one's actions, belongings, and a constant evaluation of what is acceptable. As a black girl I have been stigmatized and placed into boxes.

          Being the only black girl within various spaces, I found myself conflicted about my position within the dance organization, my presence caught attention sometimes, and it became more of a taboo. The experience reminds me of being a transfer student, I've felt unsure of where I fit. Transferring wasn’t a process that was my choice, it is as simple as the fact I went to a community college. My only dilemma was going into a space that had predominantly white students. It was not a new phenomenon going to a predominantly white institution (nor is it a bad thing)–I have experienced it my whole life, but I never realized how much it impacted me. I was always being questioned for just-being. Coming to UMASS, I felt like an outsider. Adapting to the campus culture was as challenging for me as fitting in and feeling accepted. I found that dance (my first love) had been an instrument into fostering a sense of belonging. When I had joined the organization for Traditional Chinese Folk Dance, it beckoned me with its flowing movements and gentle self-expressions. I can communicate my unique experiences, bringing richness to the collective dance narrative. Embracing diverse dance styles, encouraging cultural exchange, and fostering an inclusive environment within dance communities can counteract the feelings of otherness I have been plagued by. 

              As a college student, I found myself drawn to the deeper layers of meanings embedded in the dance, recognizing echoes of my own experiences in the themes and motifs of classical literature. Being an English major it is the means to see through other’s eyes, the very aspect is rooted in communication and socialization. As a historian and literature enthusiast, my perspective on Cultural Narratives comes from a variety of perspectives. As part of our coursework, we study literary criticism, historical and cultural pieces, as well as Early American Literature (among other topics); we work to analyze and read critically from various texts. Literature is about the human experience and our history as a people. When studying Chinese history, I connected to the women. So, the first time I placed on a qipao in dance class, I was thrilled. It’s adorned with floral patterns, and it’s light pink paired with matching silk pants which added to a sense of fluidity and movement. My hair was adorned with ornate hairpins and I felt awe and respect for the women before me as I partake in this traditional dance. 

             At a defining moment, I realized how important my cultural background was. In the exploration of historical literature, I discovered that my heritage is not only a source of personal identity but a lens through which I can uniquely contribute to the broader academic discourse. The narratives of being a black woman, its struggles, triumphs, and rich cultural tapestry, are integral threads woven into understanding fabric of historical literature no matter what context. This realization marked a pivotal moment, emphasizing that my cultural perspective is not a barrier but a bridge to understanding and interpreting historical narratives in a way that adds depth and richness to the academic landscape. As a transfer student, this awareness became a guiding force, shaping my academic journey and understanding my perspective and experiences  is truly an asset, providing unique insights that enhance the collective understanding of historical writings. I feel like, much like English literature, dance served as both an artistic expression and as a metaphor for life, it intricately weaves together the elements of self-reflection and the path of personal realization. As I began to learn and study the choreography of Dai, Mongolian dance, and the fan dance, it unfolds before my eyes through highs and lows, twists and turns, much like life experiences. 

 Once, I entered a space after dancing with other individuals from the community, and  I recall being asked,

“Why am you here?” 

I stared and blinked, with a chuckle of uneasiness. 

This was nothing new: I saw the stares, the looks of disbelief and the subtle criticisms if I were to get any steps wrong.

 So, why was I there?

In response I helplessly grinned, and nodded, balancing the response in my mind as if it was a 50 kilo weight. 

“I want to learn about people. I think we all should do that, no matter what we look like.”

To that, the individual only nodded, and left it at that.

Since that day, I began to see that all the things I conjured up in my head- was actually true. It had alcomized itself through that person, and I began to question myself.

Why was I in these spaces?

Although I knew the answer, I was thrown in a box of uncertainty.

I stuck out too much, just as I thought. 

As I stared in the mirrored surfaces of the studio during rehearsal, I can see the glee on all the rest of my dance teammates faces as we were in perfect sync–yet again. At the end of the day, it didn’t matter the color of our skin, it mattered the tone of our heart. These reflective moments causes me to observe not only the external movements I emulate but also the internal rhythms of emotions, aspirations, and self-awareness. The fan is a symbol of my honor towards change and honor towards a culture. Within my English literature studies, similarly to the dance floor- becomes a sacred place of self-discovery and transformation. Here I could challenge stigma and stereotypes. 

My friend had once called me a bridge builder, and to that I snorted in bewilderment, 

“A bridge builder? No I am not.” I laugh. 

I laughed because bridge builders were the Martin Luther King’s of society, the Bob Marley’s, the Princess Diana’s, the Malala’s, the John F. Kennedy’s…the list goes on. 

And it certainly is not me.

But my friend nods, his face serious, “You are, you enter spaces where you take up space. You respect others and you move with intention. You are going in spaces where people do not go. Where most overlook. That is a bridge builder.” 

To that response, I stopped laughing and for the first time, I realized I have been laughing passively out of disbelief or to settle the tensions of people who lack knowledge about me, or even laughing out of anxious nerves. 

First I was laughing because my friend sees the (small) impact I am making. 

I stopped laughing– now I am confronted with it.

Whether I believed him or not, what I did understand is being at UMASS, being who I am, studying others, all comes to a single thing. 

I am dancing in between things. 

I dance, both figuratively and literally- to bridge cultures and histories, becoming an actual connector. In every step, I create a note in life's symphony, and each movement offers a chance for profound realizations of the world and various narratives that surrounds me.