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Ballet
To every hardship I ever experienced. Thank you.
A Wisdom Attained
It was over before it even started, and so was the thrill of it. Who knew men lied about the smallest things for social approval? Or should I say sexual approval? I always have to remain unbiased towards everything except for communication between the opposite sex and myself. And it wasn’t enough, some part of me got swayed. To me, it’s basic science, one who wants a load removed goes through great lengths to have exactly that happen. Sorry cowboy, we don’t drop loads in Zalia’s house. Nor do we spill seed on her donkey fur material, with zebra wood below on her “mental carpet”. I should go on, shouldn’t I? I have a bone to pick with every male I know today, because of Mr. Brown-Eyes-but-no-morals. I intend to break that bone even if it is the wishbone to my already comically dwindling experience with the male sex. I guess it was my fault. I figured with my bad luck that I couldn’t find a strong truthful man. Just thinking about it is uncomfortable because there were countless times when he lied directly to my face, but I’ll go on. Pardon me if I skipped Jezebel school, but mama likes her men honest. I just did not know that I had the shallow part of the bargain.
I can’t believe I don’t know what’s worse: that I am experiencing this feeling of loss and bitterness, or that I need to find a new waxing gibbous. Ever since I learned the moon’s phases I decided that I would correlate that into my “what I want from a man” chart. I invite you to tell me exactly what’s wrong with that... Denver was my twenty-eight and a half day. The brightest smile belonged to the immediate glimmer of his face, with space left between his cheeks and acres of untouched room under his nose to form his beautiful bridge. My waxing gibbous had a smile that could light up the night and the beauty of seeing the sun and moon together at an early dawn morning. But what sealed our arrangement was his dark side, which I thought I “needed” so that I felt protected enough to walk the streets with him. He barely showed it to me, but I knew it was there. I’d relate his dark side to my cervix, I just know that it’s in there because it reminds me of blood every month. Or better yet playing the game, 21 Questions with my belief system: he’d give me the most ambiguous answers to the questions I would ask him that would make me ponder for hours on how unequivocally possible it was to be true.
This is how we met. It was one day after class, psych 307, I was bored. I saw him staring so I rolled my eyes.
“I’m already used to your eyes, is that okay?”
“People usually start conversations with, Hi.”
“Well, any greeting would suffice, but is that how narrow-minded our generation is, that without a formal greeting I can’t make conversation with someone I have seen a thousand times?”
“It sounds like you have a lot of time on your hands to be examining how intricate hello and goodbye are.”
“My apologies. I always start new conversations with something obtuse just to get a feel for them, shit you don’t want to talk to me?" Funny, he thought he was making his stance known, and his intentions clear.
"And where do you come off thinking you are doing something starting a conversation?”
“And now I know why you took this class,”
“I say what’s on my mind,” I was getting more annoyed with the lesson, human development and I decided I would let him talk some more. People love to talk.
He shrugged the comment off and looked over his left shoulder. I have to admit there was some awkward silence, but man I had enough of this lecturing from the teacher and this man. I thought, “I still have some skills with playful banter, maybe I can focus on this for my rehearsal later.”
Right there I was wondering why he was staring into oblivion in the way he was.
“Yeah.”
“Oh, you paying attention to me again, where I’m from they would call you ‘the ops’.’’
“Where are you from?”
“Brooklyn, Red Hook.”
“I’ve heard of it, but I’m from out of the country. I was born in Singapore.”
“What would that make you? Half Black and Asian? That’s interesting.”
“Yeah, that was a good guess actually but more like full Asian, for reasons I don’t want to get into.”
“I can respect it, but to be honest about your comment before it is weird, you don’t wake up feeling ‘used’ to people it takes time to build relationships.”
“So you disagree that someone can form a relationship or something from afar?”
“Yes, actually I do.”
“Well, I’m sorry but consider your stable territory invaded as we learned from Garfield last class. Yeah, I listen.”
“Ok so you noticed that I took interest in a few points that Garfield went over in class, that doesn’t mean you’re comfortable with me.”
“It means I’m here and we can form an even stronger connection.”
“I would say our relationship is about a 3 out of 10, and that’s me being nice.”
“Three is my number you can have 10.”
I smirked at that one.
“Do you want to have kids?” I asked hoping my awkwardness wouldn’t have come out when it did.
“Yeah, just two hopefully, why?”
“I don’t know seeing if I was being too generous with that 3 out of 10 I just gave you.”
Nice.
“You were but, I didn’t catch your name?”
“It's Zalia.”
“That’s a pretty name.”
I chalked up my win, but I was unable to hold myself back from shooting my next shot, it was heavily contested.
“I always pause for effect when I tell people my name. I want them to get a grasp of my identity. Most times names are all we can use to relate to one another, it’s something we all have and used for the same purpose, if you can remember this one part of me it doesn’t make you different from anyone else, it just means your long term or short term memory has a few spinning gears in it. However, my first name is extremely personal and powerful to me so now that I am sharing it with you it’s up to you to remain true to me. I usually give people my stage name Familia, just so I can see the vastly different reactions I get from a name like that. So far you’re the only person in the class that knows my name, are you responsible enough for that burden?”
After my little monologue I know I had him wooed. But, I was in a trance and it was that time. Month? Moonth? (I had just learned that the months of the year are from the moon’s cycle and that time is a concept, an illusion. All things that were helping to change my prior belief system). I knew that was why I was more inclined to speak up, I was moody. And why didn’t he like to be called Asian? That’s a huge mystery for a caramel-skinned, not middle eastern young man. He stared needily at my dreads and my side profile and continued staring to force a reaction from me, but I remained cool in this particular run of the mill. He continued peering at me from his seat, and as I sat at my desk, it truly felt as though I had a personal admirer. I would choose this day of all days to have a fan of my schematic, I was wearing a silver, black and white dress with strings at the hem of the skirt line, it perfectly aligned around my figure, but it didn’t push anything out of place. On my feet, I wore these all-white tennis shoes that came up to the ankle--no one else would notice the Balenciaga logo on the soles of them, but I would. I wore no makeup, well just lipstick and eyeliner which is pretty much nothing. I was going for something that would match my skin tone, no one else is going to do it for me. I settled with my friend Amalee’s tan sheared lipstick and matching eyewear that day, and it seemed to be paying off.
There was one thing I couldn’t grasp that day though, Denver kept a blank and immovable expression throughout our conversation (excluding the times where he flashed his dazzling smile). He was so hard to read. Why conceal such a beautiful smile with a gray and below whelming facial expression? Even if he didn’t smile I couldn't tell if his persona was overwhelmingly calm or structurally rigid through experience. Maybe it was patience? Athleticism? I resolved I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him.
The only fact was that he smit me with his charm.
“Do you want to go out to eat sometime?”
“I’d rather go somewhere open, like a bar or something like that. Not to be a diva.”
“That’s fine by me your taste over mine-- is something I always suggest with first dates with me-- I just think it’s better for the person I am with to feel comfortable going out cause being with me is a rush in itself.”
He smiled a dazzler.
“Oh, so what you’re saying is this is no two friends going out, this is a date?”
“If I had my way, yes, I mean our way…”
“I admit, something is intriguing about you, so yes.”
“I would like that, thank you.”
“Thank you, for what?”
“Well we didn’t have the date yet, but I think thanks are in order, this is something I just sprang on you at 3:00 PM in class.”
I turned to my watch, looking vicariously through it as to get a shift in the moods of the conversation, I was intrigued by this man who asked me on a date. But was he intrigued with me? But, as I soon would see and find out later his intent was questionable, some of the things I wanted to be were embedded in his persona.
The bell rang and from my seat directly back of the class the students seemed to swarm out of the classroom from all zones at once, I would have been moving a little faster if I wasn’t waiting to see what he would do. I gathered my folder and stacked all my loose-leaf paper on the desk then into it, I casually slowed down when I got to my binder and looked at him, he was smiling at me. So I smiled back. He wasn’t going to stare at me forever was he, I thought it felt like I was the one getting used to him now, but it was all going to be over soon class had ended.
“So Zalia, take my number down, and maybe we can get that drink tonight?”’
Did I hear, take my number down?
So, I wrote my number down.
Where was the charm now that the class was over, I didn’t expect more of him to pop out of his pants, but I was truthfully underwhelmed... I was definitely feeling some moodiness. He had wooed me for the last minute and I felt like we were dating already. So, Denver hurries up and does something again.
“Yeah I would love to go out tonight, I’m not doing anything.”
I left psych 307, before Denver, he wasn’t taking long, I was. But I wanted to leave before him.
I was not going to call.
Or so I thought.
Appolyon’s Theme
Now, what did I learn from that (and men please refrain from giving your opinion, your species is full of shiitake mushrooms)? Do you know what I learned ladies? That we are attracted to the pursuit as equally as our less-evolved counterparts. This cannot continue! Of all the times the world has gone into great economical turmoil and unprecedented destruction because of the man and his willingness to pursue the oblique...it has to involve us and our need for companionship. If I was them: IF... we would be outlandishly courted for visits once a month for sexual appreciation, passive one-off comments on their role as our other halves, and bottom feeder humor that we as women would never stoop to. How many terrorist manifestos, how many forgotten engagements, how many derivative comedy appeals of negative policies, will we go through to realize how socially dependent they are?
There is a silver lining you know. Yes, yes, I do come with helpful tips! Usurp your status over them. Did you hear me, ladies? Usurp it. What's not going to happen is you are going to fall for another media-influenced "ironically" funny relationship that reality shows can't stop showing enough of. If I have my way I'll make sure that no women are demeaned by the opposite sex. The funny thing is I learned this all from Denver.
Do you still trust my opinion?
My mother had given me the "bag" at an early age. I was rich through her common-law relationship, she being separated along with half of his wealth, me vicariously through her. I remembered one of the odd pearls she had left to me before she went to work every morning. Around 2006 after the relationship had soured after my birth father's absence.
"What I can do for you you can do for yourself, this is the truth of the situation, because of my love for you I will do all of what is required, and my love, you dance. You dance with the passion of a woman at war, that's all in your brain baby-girl, probably got it from me, and probably why this money is going to finally mitigate your dance recitations and my retirement," Inaka sighs, "I am your mother, and I will always protect your dancing career. You love it baby girl."
"Love you, mama," I said.
I learned to take the message from the messenger. Not everyone can be trusted, however. You need to continue gaining knowledge. And finally family doesn’t owe you a damn thing.
This was my mother, all the time:
Inaka was a patient person but she had a past that no one could guess, and not by lack of trying to. It was a more conscious effort that she took to not be outshined by me, she, and every other "prodigy" that sincerely believed they were God's gift to dance. Not that it was supremely hard to believe. She came to America solely because of her dream to dance, and she followed it. For a long time, I have felt this feeling surging through my veins, the strong resilience of a segmented group of indigenous ancestors revealing itself in my fundamental movements, and little tells that made my moves stronger and my feelings deferential toward interests separately held by those with power. After coming to this synopsis I decided to turn to dance as a muse and to divulge my sincerity to those who were aware of many cultures and the groups with views thereof. Now that my family had been in America all these years I knew my way of thinking struck close to the grain of those who did not think, rather they were mind-controlled. I saw it play out in real-time as words became my new pathological witness to the guise of power, as a dancer and then as a part of the denial. I am suggesting these people who were not aware of the control they were under, controlled others, who were then brainwashed into thinking their abusers were sovereign. This allows the bottom of the pyramid to remain the most affected, and by the bottom I mean the children born into these theocrats' way of life; Most of which operate at a younger mindset than their actual age due to complete acknowledgement of another person's belief system or undeveloped one, with the consequence of total isolation from their believed 'sovereign'. Breaking the rules or leaving the group of which they were controlled would mean that the people they knew would never accept them. Much like solitary confinement, isolation from the community is used to destroy the psyche and create psychological wounds of loneliness. It's not that much of a stretch either; some of the stories I have heard about the drill sergeants that pose as instructors in the 3rd world are terrifying, and I didn't have to worry about my memories of dance being bloodied toes and swollen thighs. The only thing I convinced myself with was that I wouldn’t skip the hardships,lessons, and pain that I experienced. Now let me take you to when I was able to dance in front of a crowd, endowed with this understanding.
Evanescent
"Five. Six. Seven..."
Here I am doing my last performance for the university performance qualifier. Atop a mounted stage in the middle of the most rebellious time for my generation to be artistic. I know art. I have met them. Some say performing amid these circumstances is like a soldier stopping in the middle of a siege because of little girls and their mothers trapped in between debris. There was an argument last night. Me and Denver. I just cannot focus, for the life of me! Is this a new Changement or a double cabriole derriere coming up? I was just witnessing this all in real-time-- now I'm at the epicenter-- now I am facilitating a whole audience full of family members of the united iron-clad states of the North American central kind... Oh, I almost forgot I wanted to add something to this last part, be right back…
I was in the Javits Center performance room, in the lit atmospheric dwelling I called my least favorite guy to. Yup, Denver was in the audience. I saw, legs crossed next to him, a younger guest of the feminine persuasion, a phoenix next to him, but she didn't notice the fire ablaze in my movements because of her presence. Some plus one. Like I said to my instructor I would, I set the surroundings ablaze with my movements. Short of nothing, equal to no one. Why he came was a mystery and the mystery wasn't a one-story it was more of a oedipus rex. I had a demi coming up and one more battu for another spin.
I started to consider the future for a moment. Why now? Something felt askew. But I thought to myself, this was my magnum opus. The sequence looked dry, but I was gonna make it beautiful. I ran the stage.
"Eight, and--"
Final act. I looked powerful facing the stage. Brought to my attention was my friend Wesley pointing into the crowd pale-faced. Someone waved at me and we locked eyes, I was in the middle of the stage and were out of control. There was smoke everywhere. It was fire, and as I ran off the stage to the nearest exit things were slower. Shit. I knew that this was gonna happen. Because everyone's eyes were still on me as my dancer’s figure slid down 4 flights of fiery stairs and finally out into the sunlight where the fire’s hot seemed less humid.
Good bye phoenix.
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