Music
is inescapable in Kunming: our dorm is next door to a piano shop, choir and
dance practice seem to meet in the park at every possible hour, the wails of
street performers and handheld radios drift through the smoggy air, even the
garbage trucks sing. As a dancer, I have a difficult time ignoring this
constant aural bombardment - whenever I hear music, I want to get up and dance!
But living in a new city with a foreign culture makes it hard to feel
comfortable letting loose and expressing myself.
One
day when I rounded a corner on my way back from class, I encountered an iPad
blasting hip hop, surrounded by students in camo uniforms. Although I had
already passed through this impromptu group, something told me I should turn
back and ask them if they were going to dance. I asked one of the girls, named
Siwei, what kind of a group they were, how often they met, and whether or not I
could join in. She asked what kind of dance I wanted to learn, and I replied
that I honestly didn’t care as long as I could dance.
We
exchanged phone numbers so I could ask more questions as they came to mind.
When I asked them how old they were and found out they were all first year high
school students, I felt a little awkward. I asked her if it would be strange
for me to dance with them. She texted back responding (translation) “No, street
dance is a free dance, it has no age restrictions, it does not differentiate
between good or bad, no matter where you are or who you are dancing with, it
could never be strange. Now, whether you are a high school student or a college
student, as long as you love street dance, we will happily teach you.”
Feeling
taken aback by this sincere, inspirational text, I resolved not to let my fear
of awkwardness keep me from this chance to dance, this chance to make new
friends. So the next Tuesday, my classmate Melanie in toe, I retraced my steps
into the alleyway behind the building where they meet. The dancers giggled and
chattered in Kunmingese, their iPad bumping familiar Hip
Hop and Break music.
We
joined them and began to practice the steps the more experienced dancers were
teaching. As we moved our bodies to the music, occasionally witnessing one
boy’s classmates mob him and turn him upside down, or girls pretending to be
zombies, we discovered that it was incredibly easy to enjoy ourselves; just as
Siwei had said, our age, nationality, and language barrier had no effect on our
ability to laugh and dance with these kids.
I
had to miss their next few practices, but two weeks later when I returned for
the second time, one of the girls hug-attacked Melanie and I, her screech of
excitement reaching a decibel that would make even a deaf person cringe. The
group fanned out, a boy leading one group in b-boy style breaking, one of the
girls teaching hip-hop, everyone relaxed and happy. We danced until the rain
sprinkled down cooling our sweaty faces and reminding me that I should go home
and bring my laundry in. As I walked home, the fragrant rain falling on my head
and arms, I knew I had found a safe place to be myself.
 |
| Photo credit: Hayley G. |
