Identity of a Belly Dancer: My Story, My Voice
By Brittany Capozzi (BellaBianca)
This year I was re-introduced to myself through an item on a list born of curiosity and innocence. After a close friend chose to leave our hometown to find the unknown, I mapped out my own path. The courage from our last words stayed in my voice; not only did people hear my courage but they listened to how I needed to explore different aspects of myself. So I started a list of things to do - a list illustrating the ways in which I was a student of life. Good bye bookworm, hello photographer, horseback rider, and maybe even yoga instructor! Why not?
February 2011: I check #4 off my list of things to do in life: Belly dance. There was just one problem: as soon as one foot crossed over the other, I immediately remembered why I never took dancing of any sort as a kid-one side of my body was not BUILT to dance. I always thought that if it had been, then I wouldn't have suffered a stroke when I was just 48 hours old, resulting in cerebral palsy on my right side. I have always had to use my left side to do everything so there was simply no way I would be able to do choreography with my right side! A simple task such as picking up a pencil with my thumb and index finger was challenging enough. As frustrated as I was, I knew I was in class to persevere beyond my silly list of things to try, beyond my fear of failing. After all, what would I be failing? It was time to see what my body was capable of doing.
Being the overachiever that I've always been, I was quick to test what tricks I could and could not do yet with this new art. Although I was not at my most flexible with my right side, I was able to do one of the most challenging hip movements in the first class- the inward figure eight on the balls of my feet. A surprise from one isolated area seemed to be contagious when it came to moving another muscle in my body because only a few weeks following was I relaxed enough to balance a hardcover book on my head. And I must say that, while reading Joseph Campbell's The Power of Myth was intriguing, so was dancing with it!
One evening while "Egyptian walking" around my house (a different book on my head), my mind was anything but relaxed, unlike my shoulders. There was simply one thought after the other: Look in the direction you are thinking of traveling before you move the head and shoulders. Remember, you have control over your body! Together, my mind and body were literally pointing out life lessons: The eyes act as a lighthouse, your protection. After spending nearly six months with writer's block, I was quick to notice that the book keeping steady on my head was nothing other than a blank journal! Talk about synchronicity.
I'm not sure how many dancers stare at Post-Its in the corners of their mirror when exercising to Michael Buble or Shania Twain (And just how many belly dancers shimmy to country, by the way?) but while becoming this dancer I became a writer again...a different kind of writer. I still thought in poetic form, but the ideas were not as complicated with metaphors. This time they were straightforward: The mirror helps you to watch yourself, keep an eye on yourself throughout steps taken, LITERALLY! I took a hiatus from creative writing when I found emotions taking over the craft but in front of this mirror, it seemed that the logic and creativity were both there in my mind and the emotion in my dance. My first love, my passion for writing, came back through a different form.
From practicing 6-10 hours a week, I quickly became addicted to movement. I'd enter the kitchen to cook with the stereo on, only to dance for 30 minutes before turning on the stove. Practicing shoulder movements in the car was great for endorphins, though not always easy or safe, but fun. I'd also practice my shimmies in between yoga postures. This addiction was definitely healthy because over the summer, the unpredictable happened; my right side, or my "wrong side" took control. My hip and foot could not stop dancing and experimenting with different poses while my left side could not become flexible enough to start the dance.
With only a few miles into my journey I have realized that I act as my own compass; my body knows where my self-esteem wants to be aligned - whether it be in my shoulders, hips, or as wings when I take my veils for a spin. The idea of intuitive direction has helped to foster connections when it comes to writing any genre these days. Of course I wouldn't have known how to best channel the two kinds of art had I not found strength in the small steps first taken toward the unknown, to look in the eyes of unpredictability for myself.
I love the fact that I can physically draw words with my hips. My arms. I can thank people with my eyes in one direction and take back power with a hip kick in the other. I wish I could say that my secret is that I take back everything as a dancer, meaning I never fully give anything away, I never give away my courage or dignity and I do not dance to show off my body; but the truth is, I do give a part of myself back. I give back the beauty and strength to those who have given it to me. My dignity shimmies from head to toe. It's connected to gravity, my roots, essentially it is who I am at the core. The first thing I learned in belly dance was to stay focused from the center of my body. The synchronicity here is that it took 22 years to ground myself in the identity of courage and I immediately took to grounding myself physically to the dance once I found that courage.
What I couldn't put into words until now is that to find what the world has to offer someone, one has to make a list of explorations and needs that must be met at some point in life. In the end, the biggest surprise is that the opportunities found through the ideas come from no one other than the author of the list.