Lies My Mother Told Me.

I once, on a well-regard dance elist, questioned the status quo, asked if we as dancers could not learn from elsewhere.
A dancer I greatly respect responded, and although she meant well, her words struck me -- and perhaps I misunderstood -- as , "it don't get no better than this."

If I understand her correctly, This Is It. There's no improvement in the lives of dancers. We are to starve, to beg, to have our backs broken, time and again, for our art. To be in costume is to be a target, to have eyes meet not the intellect on your face, but the breasts cinched in sparkle, or studded in coins. Dance for dance's sake? Impossible in a world full of fear of the "A-Rabs", of men more willing to pay for skin and ephemeral beauty than skill and endless variety. Forget being rich; it's a choice between artistic integrity and simply being able to drive a car that doesn't break down on a whim.

I'll say it -- "I'm still here" is not enough. We must find ways to continue to grow this dance, to allow it to evolve, and to bring it to new heights, new audiences, and new ways of supporting dancers. The sense of feminist empowerment must come out, be pulled from the cozy life of dancer "sisterhood" and be made willing to fight in the trenches of the real world, day after day. We really, really wants to starve for their art, to be dependent upon others for their security in this world? Why is the kind of economic empowerment that MLK talked of in his later days only a fond wish for dancers?

Until, and unless, we learn to balance the dignity of ancestry with the need to feed ourselves and our families...until and unless we are able to present dancers in this genre in ways that command the money that goes along with the respect we deserve as artists...we will never be truly free to preform our arts as they should be presented.