It was my birthday on Monday! The unintended consequence of that was that I felt like a complete blob for most of the week. That was good, at first, but then the blobbiness sort of overtook me. I knew I should move my body beyond the Bermuda Triangle that is my bed -->couch --> kitchen, but it was cold. And I was comfortable. And G.I. Joe cartoons were streaming. Eventually, though, on a day I unexpectedly had off, I left for ballet.
That was Thursday. I was back with my usual teacher, and my usual friends. This time, that felt less like a treat and more like a routine, though I certainly welcomed it. It's good to find some sort of reward whenever you have to force yourself to do anything. For me, that was getting in a few laughs with friends, and enjoying the teaching style of an instructor I really have come to like. She's precise in her lessons and genuine in her encouragement to all of us. She models some of the qualities I hope I bring into my own classroom.
This time, there was a new-newbie. This person had never done ballet before in his life, as he told us. I remembered being in his shoes (well, socks), when even the opening stretch routine felt alien to me. Now, even though I'm only nine lessons in, that part of class is almost entirely muscle memory. That's good because it lets me focus on the stretch itself and the way it makes my body feel rather than which movement goes where. This is where I'd offer empathy for the new-newbie, where I'd say something like, "He'll get there," but...I'll get to that.
When we did work at the barre, I noticed my feet align more easily now into fifth position. That was really hard on day one, and it's still difficult, but I can feel, little by little, my ability to twist more. That gradual improvement is a nice reminder that, for many things in life, regular practice - if not daily practice - will bring results. As a person thinking about their own gender, this is helpful because it means that the simple act of thinking *is* work. That, with every thought I have, and with every question I try to answer, my mental feet are aligning more and more with where I hope them to be, eventually. Even if I don't feel like it, the fact that I'm there counts. No one tells you how to be who you are. You just have to experiment, set up some sort of fluid goal, and try to get there.
It wasn't long before my blobbiness came out in class, though. I wore a Wimpy T-shirt (you know, the cartoon guy obsessed with hamburgers) that said "Slacker" on it because I was not trying to be subtle about my feelings. After we put the barres away, I really had to concentrate in order to at least attempt all the steps in a given routine. My focus was often broken not just by my blobbiness, but by...
The new-newbie. [Okay, if you're sensitive to harsh language, or maybe you're reading with kids, now is the point you may want to stop reading. I'll let you know when it's safe again. Hopefully you can just skim to the next set of brackets. Okay, still here? Great.] F*ck the new-newbie and his f*cking innate ability to seemingly do everything f*cking perfect and ask these questions that are, like, f*cking deep, but also relatable, and just so exactly *get* to the f*cking brass tacks of what we're all trying to accomplish here BUT ALSO BE F*CKING FUNNY, like waaaaay funnier than me, which f*cking kills me because, like, you can take my ballet ability, that's easy, but all I have are my sh*tty jokes and if you do THOSE better than me, gawd I just askjfhs;lkuhkdhjaksjdhgakfjdhg!!! AND HIS HAIR. Let's talk about f*cking that for a sec because it was f*cking lustrous. Like out of a Disney movie - any gender in a Disney movie as long as they're young and the protagonist. I didn't really get to see his eyes, because he's also f*cking taller than me, but I'll bet they are just so d*mn soulful, too, like they contain the answers to the f*cking universe and sh*t and tucked away, in there, is all these beautiful ballet questions that I'll bet he has on HIS blog which is probably some Paul-Krugman-of-Ballet-level sh*t and I should probably just link to it if I ever find it because I'm sure it's waaaaay more awesome than this sh*t right here. Okay. Rant over. [Bring the kids back into the room. I'm ready to empathy again.]
There's a lesson, here. The lesson is that everyone learns differently, and everyone comes to different environments bringing different stuff. Sometimes, people bring exactly what they need to survive. Sometimes, you have to fashion those essentials out of whatever's around. I have always been in the latter category. The new-newbie seems to be a quick study, but I wonder if, to him, he doesn't feel like he's fighting an uphill battle. Maybe, even though we all learn differently and at different speeds, we are often more united than we think in our self-images. I wish communication and collaboration were taught in schools, from an early age. We know we're supposed to "work together," but we don't get much in the way of what that means. What do we express to one another? What frustrations can we express academically? How do we uplift others who express those frustrations? There are no standardized answers to these questions, but we can at least address those issues in classes.
In my class, my students have bonded in a very positive way. This leads some to, from time to time, be armchair therapists to others who are struggling. I like seeing this in action because (a) I know those students would never mistake themselves for *actual* therapists and (b) students helping each other can form bonds that will last the rest of their college days. In some ways, we're forming those bonds in ballet. In other ways, I'm forming those bonds gender-wise.
Anyone who is either not cis or performs their cisness in a way that others may not expect can feel adrift in the sea of gender rigidity and discrimination that exists so unfortunately (and so strongly) today. Being uplifted by others facing the same challenges (or different challenges, but with keen awareness of your challenges) propagates empowerment and agency for all involved. It can be a beautiful thing.
So, new-newbie, even though, to me, you seem to have absolutely zero problems, I reach out to you, on this blog you will most likely never read, and offer myself as a source of positive reinforcement and understanding. Goodness knows I've taken enough such empowerment from those I've been lucky enough to meet. If I can put more out into the world, I'd be delighted.
Aaaaaand if that doesn't work, then I'll always have Walgreens. I stopped in on my way home and found that this particular Walgreens had an action figure in stock that I had been looking for. This action figure is exclusive to that chain. It's of Mystique, the X-Men mutant who can shape-shift. It's really cool! And it was on sale. So now I have that, a totem that will accompany me as the blobbiness overtakes me once again.
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