Urban Bush Women
Dec. 14th, 2003 10:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
coppqueen5129Saw Urban Bush Women, an African American dance company, perform Shadow's Child last night at PSU's Lincoln Hall. They were terrific. Shadow's Child is about a Mozambiquan girl's transition to Florida. The "plot" wasn't as coherent as I'd have liked, but the dancing and music. Wow! And I was so impressed that each woman had their own distinct style, yet still performed as a unit. It was very good.
Afterwards, there was a talk back section. It's so rare that I actually see that many black women (about a dozen) in one place, talking, that I was almost in awe. I always forget how accustomed I become to seeing white faces. On my way out, I stopped in the ladies' room and caught a glimpse of my face in the mirror - it was like looking at someone else. I didn't even recognize myself for a moment. I thought, "I have an interesting face."
Someone asked the director, Jawole Willa Jo Zollar, what advice she'd give to young girls who aspired to be dancers. She said, take classes, learn as many different styles of dance that you can, and "don't let anyone tell you that there's something wrong with your body." To which the audience (90% white of course, since this is Portland) applauded. The women varied in features, complexion and body size. Several were thin with "classic" dancer figures, but most were very curvaceous with plenty of booty and breasts. Of course, they were full of muscles. So the next time I equate being very thin with being very disciplined, I'll just remember these women.
And I wonder if my life had been different, if I could have been a dancer. Both of my grandmothers danced; Mima actually was a professional dancer with an African dance company in Cuba. But I never learned to dance due to religious restrictions. My mom said, "It's not too late, you know!"
I love Portland, but it's times like these I really feel as though I'm missing something. I often lose touch with myself here, in the whitest big city in America.
Afterwards, there was a talk back section. It's so rare that I actually see that many black women (about a dozen) in one place, talking, that I was almost in awe. I always forget how accustomed I become to seeing white faces. On my way out, I stopped in the ladies' room and caught a glimpse of my face in the mirror - it was like looking at someone else. I didn't even recognize myself for a moment. I thought, "I have an interesting face."
Someone asked the director, Jawole Willa Jo Zollar, what advice she'd give to young girls who aspired to be dancers. She said, take classes, learn as many different styles of dance that you can, and "don't let anyone tell you that there's something wrong with your body." To which the audience (90% white of course, since this is Portland) applauded. The women varied in features, complexion and body size. Several were thin with "classic" dancer figures, but most were very curvaceous with plenty of booty and breasts. Of course, they were full of muscles. So the next time I equate being very thin with being very disciplined, I'll just remember these women.
And I wonder if my life had been different, if I could have been a dancer. Both of my grandmothers danced; Mima actually was a professional dancer with an African dance company in Cuba. But I never learned to dance due to religious restrictions. My mom said, "It's not too late, you know!"
I love Portland, but it's times like these I really feel as though I'm missing something. I often lose touch with myself here, in the whitest big city in America.
