Growing up I was super shy. It took me well into my adolescence before I felt comfortable ordering food at a restaurant. And if there was a knock on our door, there was no way you could count on me to answer it. As would anyone with a fear of people, I would immediately hide, like a frightened teeny dog.
I was so shy, I was even reluctant around my family members. But the men in my family grew the most inquisition from me. I once ran through a screen door when my uncle, who I saw on a semi-regular basis, came over with a full beard; the first time I’d ever seen a beard up close. (Hashtag, raised by a single mom). Nonetheless, as an only child and as the first child in our extended family, I had years being the center of attention. A spectacle, if you will. And unfortunately there’s a lot of evidence of this. Since day one, I’d been followed around with cameras. The footage suggests that my gawking fans set me in the center of any room just to see how far I could be pushed to the edge before their taunting wore me out. But what can I say, maybe at one point I became used to, or even began enjoying the voyeurism, despite my demure nature. ‘Lights, camera, action,’ baby!
According to legend, my original performances began as, interestingly enough, imitations of Olympic athletes. Of course, this is hilarious being that I, fully, with my whole being, reject athleticism at this state in my life. Yet it seems true, I was once a burgeoning sports-lady myself. I’ve been told that I imitated gymnastic routines, ice-skating routines, and even synchronized swimming routines on both the living room floor and in the backyard. I still have a slight memory of doing less-than mediocre somersaults and feeling as though I’d accomplished a triple-axel-freestyle-aerial-flip, or whatever. (At this point I’d like you to please insert a mind’s eye image here of 5-year-old me gracelessly fumbling across the grass, thank you).
The real show-stoppers came later though, after I’d developed my true style. A performance continuously brought back by popular demand,–well actually, I just made uncomfortable guests sit through it multiple times–was an interpretive dance set to the popular song from Disney’s instant classic, Hercules. The song was, of course, “Go the Distance” performed by none other than the Michael Bolton. I loved this song so deeply, it still has the capability to bring me to tears. One might even say, its function in my life was that it was the piece of art that brought my artist’s soul to blossom. So, we all have that to be very thankful for.
But like most of our crafts, mine shifted and evolved over time. The real pièce de résistance came a bit later when I was about 11 years old. At this stage in my life I had developed this thing called dignity, you may have heard of it. As much as I wanted and needed to thrash about the living room floor with my modern dance moves, I just couldn’t bear the sheer vulnerability of it. That’s when I started dancing with sheets over my head. Yes, you heard me, like a fake ghost. You see, I would work on choreography in my bedroom, but when the time came to share my hard work, I couldn’t imagine seeing the faces of my audience (my mom). That critique would have just been too much for me. I still remember to this day my performance to John Mayer’s, “Clarity”. I had routines to every song on Heavier Things, as a matter of fact. Did I mention I was far too shy to ever enroll in a dance class, despite the longing desire and the fact that my mom was a dance teacher? Anywho, I went the most normal route, obviously.
Unfortunately, I haven’t performed in years. Though, the last interpretive dance performance was probably closer than you think. It was likely in the basement of a high school friend and likely performed to some other music on the same level as “Go the Distance” or “Clarity”. I’m, how do you say, very deep on a spiritual level? Personally, I’m shocked my dance career never took off.
Candice Chantalou 