The Dancing Woman
The Dancing Woman is inherently a revolutionary act. She is unconcerned, fluid. Her heels imprint scuff marks onto the floor as her body is infused with song. She notices, but remains unconcerned. She moves her body and mouths her lips to familiar beats, but more often than not, to the unfamiliar. But it doesn’t matter. Trying something new doesn’t tattoo her with shame. Deviance doesn’t scare her.
On the dance floor, The Dancing Woman’s unconcern for the bitter chatter of the seated guests is what sets her free. What people think of her dance, whether she is on beat or several off, flies past her mind.
Her only concern is the joy and freedom she feels while she dances.
And, she would never sit and watch. That’s boring.
She’s The Dancing Woman. Her movement is her drug of choice.
The Dancing Woman loves her mirror; it’s her stage. It’s the only stage that matters. Because she is able to perform without trying to put on a show. She doesn’t need an applause.
But that’s part of the magic of The Dancing Woman. Her existence demands an audience. Everyone is watching.
But she doesn’t care. She is free.
Validation isn’t the engine by which she survives off of.
Clubs and discos and alcohol and darkness come together to create an escape because they offer a sense of refuge. A way away. But The Dancing Woman’s world, alone, is her refuge. She doesn’t need to run away to feel away.
That’s her power.
She is unconcerned.
The Dancing Woman wants every other woman to dance with her. She begs them. Some come along, others are reluctant as they drip in fear and shame. It’s not their fault.
The Dancing Woman’s existence is the hammer that breaks the glass. The Dancing Woman is like faith and love. She can’t be one thing; she is a force that is complex and layered and often, abstract.
Once the forces of faith and love, for example, try to be contained to a glass, chaos ensues.
Because they can’t be contained. One would never even try; it doesn’t make sense to refine faith and love to something simple and easily understood. It often takes a lifetime to find answers about either.
Faith isn’t one thing — it’s whatever the individual constructs faith to be in their life.
Love isn’t one thing — it’s whatever the individual constructs love to be in their life.
The Dancing Woman will never be one thing. She is whoever she wants to be in her life. She is not to be confined to a simple description for the convenience of someone else.
“We created these glasses to try to contain uncontainable forces.”
GLENNON DOYLE
