When I am in Germany, for at least a little while I can
convince people I speak German. I understand
far more than I can actually say. I can listen to people talking and more or
less understand what is being said. I can con people for a little while that I
am a German speaker. I can answer simple questions, and I know many words, but
when it comes to structuring a sentence as a German speaker would, I get found out – I am merely an observer of
German language, and when it comes to actually conversing I am a beginner at
best. Say something complicated to me and I freeze. I can’t freestyle in the
language, but I know enough words to understand what is being said and to speak
a few rehearsed phrases. I have managed to get away with it long enough to
convince people I speak German, in the past. I studied German at school, more
than 10 years ago, so somewhere in that brain of mine, it is still there, just
waiting to be rehearsed enough to speak again, I’m sure!
When I am in Portugal, there is no doubt that I do not speak
Portuguese. They think it’s cute if I ask, ‘dois cafés por favor’, but they know I don’t speak Portugese, and they know I don’t understand it
either. When I listen to conversations I understand nothing. Just like with
Italian, and Finnish, and Japanese and Khmer, and anything that isn’t even
close to my native language.
Language
is fun. It is entertaining to surprise people when you know some swear words or
phrases – like a special trick. I love language, I love seeing the roots of
language too. But I am utterly useless at learning them. I can remember the
tricks (swearing) and niceties (hello, thank you, please), but anything beyond
that.... good luck! I am, however, quite accomplished at speaking, writing and
listening to my native language – English. I should be – I’ve been speaking it
for the past 28 of my almost 30 years.
So
what is this all about? Isn’t this meant to be a dance blog? Well, yes it is,
and there is a purpose for my ramblings on language. When I teach ITS, I
explain it as a language – stall movements are words, combos are phrases, and
the dance itself is a conversation between dancers. I explain that you have to
say something the same way every time in order for everyone to understand. If
you say it the wrong way, it causes confusion – the meaning gets lost in
translation. If you dance ATS, we can understand you for a while, but there
will come a point where you do something we don’t understand and vice versa.
I
think of the entirety of learning any form of dance as akin to learning a
language. And the older I get, the harder I find it to retain that information.
My brain cannot hold more than a few phrases in Portugese, and my muscle memory
isn’t quite what it used to be either!
I
know that I am capable of speaking multiple dance languages – but all of them
have the same root language. Bellydance is like the Latin root to the multiple
languages I speak: Tribal Fusion, ITS, ATS (bit rusty on that one!), Suhaila
format, Jamila format. Because I understand Latin (bellydance), I can speak
those other languages and pick up the words (movements) in those languages more
easily, and can retain them more easily because my muscle memory (and brain)
has a reference point to work from and draw from. Having said that, my fluency
in Oriental style is akin to my German – I can get away with it for a little
bit, but underneath it all I’m not an Oriental dancer – when it comes to
speaking it with a ‘native’ – anyone who dances Oriental dance as their primary
style – I get caught out as a fraud. My true dominant language is Tribal
Fusion.
Where
am I going with this? Well, for the past 9 months or so I have been studying
Street Dance. And I am experiencing the same frustrations I experience with
learning languages. I find it SO HARD to retain words and phrases that I feel
I’ll never be fluent in any language other than English. I hate being monolingual.
I want to be able to speak a second language. But I don’t have a natural talent
for it (unlike my brother, who is fluent in three languages, and pretty good in
two or three more). Not that this is an excuse for my monolingualism – it just
means I have to work so much harder to retain language.
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| These boots were made for dancing, even if it's badly! |
I
feel this way about my studies in Street Dance. I go through peaks and lows –
during a peak moment I feel like I’m finally getting it – that I have the
groove in my body, that I can remember the steps and how to do them, and I can
repeat the phrases my teacher throws at me. In a low I can’t tell my right foot
from my left, I feel like I’m totally grooveless, and I can’t even vaguely
imitate the sequence. The things I am the best (using that word very loosely!!)
at in my Street Dance classes are Popping (because I know already from Tribal
Fusion how to contract and release my muscles), and House (because I use a lot
of footwork already in my dancing, I can pick up the footwork quickly). However
I still face crazy frustration with these styles, and the rest of the Street
styles. I feel like the essence of them comes and goes from my body – and I
know this is merely repetition and learning to relax. I at least don’t feel
like a damn ballerina in class any more!
However,
Street Dance is not my German – it’s my Portuguese. I can (sometimes) parrot
the phrases my teacher gives me – probably with a really bad accent (i.e. not
getting the groove quite right!) – but that’s it. I cannot go away by myself
and put together a sentence. I cannot freestyle in this language. And I feel
hopeless – like I will never get to that point. As I am a dancer by trade, I am
facing this thing we so often face as adults with a certain skill set entering
a similar arena – that feeling of ‘I should be able to do this’. And I know
that this is preposterous – I am a mere beginner in this style but that thought
of should keeps niggling at me.
I
think this is a common problem among adults. I see it in my adult students, I
comfort them when they shed tears of frustration, and I reassure them when they
feel angry at a perceived lack of quick progress. I encourage them to enjoy the
process of learning a new skill because how often do you get to do that as an
adult? How often do you get to really immerse in the experience of learning. To
be selfish and do something purely for you and your enjoyment? I’m not sure if
it is the fast food nature of our modern world, or if it is because of the ‘I
should’ thing that goes around my head, but I share the same feeling my
students have when they come to class – I want to be good now. Right now.
I
often ponder whether I felt like this when I first started learning bellydance,
and especially with Tribal Fusion. Back in those days, I didn’t keep a dance
journal, as I do now. I didn’t write about the frustrations and the small
victories. It didn’t occur to me that this was even something I should consider
doing. Now I write about my thoughts and feelings towards dance all the time –
about the eureka moments, the things that need more work, things I notice about
myself during my practice, and about the things in the community that bother me
or push me further. I wish I had kept a journal back then, because maybe it
would reassure me now, more than 10 years later, that it’s ok to suck for a
while. And that I will probably suck for a good few years yet. I am not a
natural mover, and bellydance is now so ingrained in my body, I have to be
patient that the body will learn new
patterns of movement. It just has to process it in its own time. I wish I had
some record of when I felt like I was finally getting good at bellydance –
especially Tribal Fusion. Because I worked hard for it. And maybe it will take
the same amount of hours for the other dance styles I practice.
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| Ok, I've got 10 years to get this.... |
When
I came back from the ODI last year, I set myself a very lofty goal. It is
certainly not something I believe I will be good enough to do this year, next
year or even the year after that – but I want to do it sometime in the future –
to participate in a battle in one of the street dance styles I’m practicing.
And when I think of this goal, it fills me with the same fear I get when I
think of speaking more than a few sentences in German: I’m afraid I will look
stupid.
I
am certain that I looked stupid a million times in dance class over the past 27
years so I don’t know why I worry about this now as an adult. I am also certain
that nobody noticed when I looked stupid in class cos everyone else was so busy
worrying about their own shit that they didn’t even consider looking at what I
was doing. It’s very humbling as a teacher to share the same psychological
experiences that I know my students have, but for a different dance style.
I
am still keeping the battle as my long term goal. I don’t know when it will
happen... but I will set a deadline of before I’m 40! Hahaha!
At
the end of the day, I realise that regardless of whether we’re talking about
learning a new language, learning to cook, learning to drive, learning a new
dance style, or learning pretty well anything – the key word is practice. Little and often will help you
to see vast improvements. Getting feedback from experienced people will help
you to grow. And not being afraid to make dozens of mistakes along the way will
serve you very well. I have to take my own advice and remember that once upon a
time, I was also brand new to bellydance, unable to isolate my body, move my
hips independently of my chest, or keep a shimmy going for longer than 2
seconds. Going to new classes now, and being utterly useless (despite claiming
to be a professional dancer!), fills me with contradictory thoughts – 1) I wish
I had studied more styles when I was younger and for longer (that’s regret
right there!), and 2) An acceptance that if I hadn’t just dedicated the last 10
years of my life to becoming a good Tribal Fusion dancer, I would probably not
be doing this for a living right now. Swings and roundabouts!
So
I will close with one of my favourite quotes, a joke really. A little reminder
not to beat myself up too much, and accept that just because I’m trying to come
to a new dance style as an older version of myself doesn’t mean I can’t be good
at it.... eventually!
“Excuse
me Sir, how do I get to Carnegie Hall?”
“Practice lady.... you gotta practice!”
“Practice lady.... you gotta practice!”
