About dancing

Writing that last post about dance music caused me to reflect on the prominent place that dancing holds in my life and in V's and my relationship.

First, dancing saved my life. Seriously. I was one of those depressed queer kids who wasn't as much suicidal as I just simply calmly accepted that I wasn't going to be around for very long because I was too different, too broken, and I could never just be myself. Then a beautiful man named Isaac, a GI stationed on our base, decided to start a dance troupe for anyone who was interested. We did interpretive dances to songs from J.C. Superstar, African-inspired dances, Broadway-style bouncy numbers. But the important thing was that Isaac had a way of pushing us, of not accepting any less than our best and yet accepting that "our best" was different for each of us. He radiated self-love and self-confidence, and he didn't give a rats ass about being so different from everyone else - he was small, Black, didn't hesitate to wear caftans all around the base for a month when he had some surgery which made wearing pants difficult, he coached the cheerleaders, he was passionate about dance and music. He didn't "fit in" with the rest of the GI's, that's for sure, but he didn't care. He was who he was, and he taught me to love dance and most importantly, he did something for me that gradually allowed me to love myself.

Fast forward then through years of sweating it out on the dance floor, of being told countless times, "you don't dance like a white girl," of cranking up the music to dance around my house, of two-stepping becoming almost an addiction after finally escaping an abusive relationship. Music was the ultimate healing drug to me.

When I chose to convert to Judaism, I was allowed to choose my own Hebrew name, and I chose Chaya Mechola. Chaya means life, and Mechola means dance, and I can't imagine one without the other.

Then when I was considering the possibility of putting myself out there again, of looking for love (though I honestly thought I was looking simply for some comfortable companionship, having mostly given up on the idea of real love), there were many things that were non-negotiable in who I'd consider, including no substance-abusers, must love kids, and MUST love to dance. And not just your standard sway and bounce dancing, either, or "sure I like to dance, so let's go to a club". I wanted someone who could and would do couples-type dancing with me, who would grab me away from cooking or reading to slow dance or salsa, someone who would lead to my natural-affinity for following, someone who didn't just dance in my general vicinity but who truly danced with me.

And, lucky me, I found that in V.