Unitarian Universalist Church of Palo Alto

Reflection: I Am a Dancer

Marianne Neuwirth
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Palo Alto, CA

As I prepared for this service, I thought, “what is a core aspect of who I am, that I keep close inside me, and don’t necessarily share easily and readily in the open? What has been with me across time? What defines me, and is a basic aspect of my identity that I downplay, or sometimes hide?

What came to me is my love of dance. When I was a young girl, I was mesmerized by musicals — I loved the singing, the energy, but mostly, the dancing. Dance is something that is both inside of me and outside of me, and this morning I’d like to share with you three of my pivotal dance experiences.

The first has two parts, separated by a few years but with a common theme. It began in college when I took my first dance class — I felt awkward but learned steadily, and was even in my first dance performance. It was a humorous show about an invasion of insects. When I met a woman at work who danced, I mentioned to her that I, too, was a dancer. She asked me which dance company I was in — I said none, I just took classes. She asked if I’d ever performed — I told her yes. She got very interested and asked if it was the Nutcracker, or Shakespeare, or perhaps a musical like “Singing in the Rain?” I replied that well no, I was in a college show and played a bug. She said, “Well, now, that doesn’t really count, does it?”

I wanted to bite her … Right on the leg …

A few years later I did audition for a major dance performance at Santa Clara University. There were over 200 people auditioning that day, going out in groups of 5 or 6 before the judges. My name was not called for nearly two hours as group after group went out — I kept praying, “Please let me be next, please let me be next.” Finally, I noticed that only one other person was left — the most agile, handsome, and of course the most popular male dancer there, who was already in the university’s dance company. I thought, “Oh no — no no no”, and prayed, “Please don’t let me be next, please don’t let me be next.” But, I was called next. So this young man and I, just us, all alone, danced this complex dance in front of 200 people. They whooped and hollered for him and shouted out his name as we danced. Even though to my amazement I kept up with him, I felt utterly invisible, and was glad to slink off the stage with my dignity barely intact.

After this experience I went into hiding as a dancer. I only danced at night alone under the moonlight or under streetlamps when no one was around. One of these nights I heard music surfing across the calm night breeze, and I decided to follow it to its source. It was coming from a gymnasium where a huge ballroom dance event was happening. A man at the back door invited me to come in, so I did. After a bit he asked, “Would you like to dance?” I looked at the beautiful women dancing with their nice hair and dresses and high heels, and I looked down at my sweats, tennis shoes and lovely leg warmers. I replied, “Don’t you think I’ll stand out a bit?” He said, “Oh, no one will care.” And he was right. I danced with him and with other shiny-shoed men for hours that night and had a glorious time!

When I went back to school soon after this to earn my PhD, I decided to enroll in a dance class every semester, and this is when my third meaningful experience occurred.

It happened at the start of my second year in a class that required us to choreograph our own dances. I was having a difficult semester and was feeling rather depressed, and I did not feel creative. I went to class regularly anyway, but on the day we were to perform our first significant piece I was not prepared. But, I took a risk. I put my music on, and I waited. I stood quietly, and waited. Eventually, a movement occurred to me, and then another, and then a turn, and a spiral, and slowly a dance emerged from me. My classmates were so moved by my piece — I was so moved by my piece! That day I experienced the difference between performing and being, and it was extraordinary.

This morning I will take another risk — I would very much like to dance for all of you. The song I have chosen is Hawaiian, and is by a group named HAPA. It is 3 and a half minutes long, and part of it I choreographed and part of it will be spontaneous. I noticed that this song is about the ocean, and upon a closer reading of the translation I saw that this song is actually about seaweed.

So everyone, for my coming out let me say: “Hi, my name is Marianne, I am a dancer, and here is my tribute to seaweed.”