Forgot to send
files so
re ~ sending
I’m planning on starting
a dance class tomorrow. I am worried about my and family’s on going
safety. I still believe the best way to combat hatred and discrimination
is to assertively go on with life
My Mom would be much
safer imho if I were rich and famous
Easier said then done.
The chronic wound on my
left ankle is still there. However has
recently healed enough to at least try being active again
I may or may not perform
in this lifetime
if you are wondering why
I am announcing my activities, it is because I went to a dance class in
Honolulu
and it was
cancelled {I don't know why}
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
here is a writing about
current life
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jane Doe’s Dance ( rough draft)
Tomorrow evening is when
I dance for survival.
It might as well be
August 17th.
Celebrating life in the
face of hate crime.
I am one of those women
who survived against the odds. Or perhaps because of the Odds.
I am one of those women
who you probably never knew existed. Perhaps you have never
seen anyone like me on television or in movies or read about me in a book.
Am I different from any
other woman who is in love with love with love and who falls in love with
women? I am permanently and severely injured and have been since age
eleven.
Tomorrow evening is when
I dance for survival.
Some people dance as a
hobby. Some people Waltz and Ballroom and go to the club or disco
every month or maybe every few years when they can afford a babysitter.
I haven’t danced since
two thousand and seven. Or is it two thousand and eight?
I mean I have spent
countless hours in covered garages. A
wheeled chair moves differently than a wheelchair. It requires a flat
surface with plenty of turning space.
Cars and trucks roared
up and down the steep Honolulu enclosed slopes, sometimes pausing to offer
help, usually zipping past my iPod ~ ish endeavors without seeming to
notice me, my walker or my mobility dog.
I saw the motorized
vehicles, stayed out of their way, ignored them.
My legs rapidly going
backwards forwards against gravity with momentum my knees to my ears, my feet
in heavy black boots painting outside the lines, my femurs creating an ever ~
changing cycle of disappearing and re ~ appearing ramps, brief forms like
uplifting bridges, hips wide solid planted to the seat, my four ~ wheeled
seated walker occasionally tipping like an over ~ sized skateboard rather
than a serious medical tool.
Late at night, becoming
restlessly alive. Early in the morning covertly enthusiastic.
Afraid my joy would be taken from me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I tend to become timeless
when I dance.
In the moment when I am
rolling backwards or testing how my walker spins when descending a sharp grade,
I forget to judge my life harshly. Performing on stage has, at times,
been the only activity I cared about enough to actually do.
I forget to be afraid of
someone stopping me to tell me I’m not really dancing because I am not standing
up.
Mostly, I forget to be
afraid.
When I am not dancing, I
wonder if there is anyone else who understands or anyone who cares.
It is a process, dancing
away fear. When I danced alone on the cement, I avoided detection as if I had
something to feel guilty about.
What I fear is someone,
anyone, will remind me about losing my Dad five days before my past greatest on
~ stage dance/theatre achievement. Around two thousand nine hundred and
twenty days ago.
Then they might ask if I
had heard from Inez, my co ~ performer or if I had produced anything recently
with my band of volunteer Usher’s from On The Boards.
Then they might ask me
why don’t I produce theatre anymore. Or why I live with my Mom. And why
don’t I dance or write or didn’t I used to be excited about how brains and
bodies played and worked in harmony.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tomorrow evening is when
I dance for survival. Tomorrow evening is when I dance for
my family, friends and everyone I love although they can’t be there.
I am going to dance a
revenge dance if I remember.
It might as well be
August 17th.
However, I am no longer
an eleven ~ year old kid, temporarily named Jane Doe.