Annual Resignation
Originally published at Lane Ellen. You can comment here or there.
Every year, I quit dance.
I love dance. I cannot stop doing it, no matter what. I love the dance community and the friends I’ve made. I love performing, and am excited about the things I’m doing this year.
But every year, I get a moment where my brain screams, “WHY AM I DOING THIS?” I feel betrayed, left out, and tired. I usually stop training, stop working on new pieces, stop believing it can work. I get defensive and hurt.
It doesn’t always happen the same time of the year, but without fail, it happens, every year -usually around winter, when I become more internal. Something happens that reaffirms my fears that there is no way I can ever make bellydance be a viable hobby, let alone lifestyle. Usually, at the same time, I’m feeling uninspired and unmotivated as well - adding to my growing belief that I’m wasting my time.
Then, in a week or a month, I get right back on the wagon and go.
This year, I’d powered through the winter doldrums by drilling and focusing on goals. But I paid for it. Because I hit the resignation wall HARD.
Myriad things promote this. Like most artistic communities, there’s a fair amount of drama involved. Whether a constant debate around what the art is supposed to be, what bellydance is, what is ethical, and what is good business practice. There’s a debate on what is new, and what is rehashed old stuff, and whether that matters. There are cliques and popular kids, subcultures within subcultures, and plenty of keeping it in the family.
Really to be expected in any group of artistic people trying to make their way.
But somewhere in all of that dramatic nonsense, something punched me across the face.
I realized that I have begun to feel pretty pressed to jump into the tide and let it take me away. To “Give it all up for The Dance.” To teach regular classes, to market myself heavily, to have a presence at most large festivals, to put together a business for costuming, to become heavily involved in hosting events. To sink my extra money and time into dance. Push, push, push, push…
On top of this, I don’t feel like I have the time to work on known issues, to flesh out my style, to figure out what I really want out of all of this. Real goals I’ve had - such as focused training - have gone by the wayside. I’ve not had time to let physical and emotional wounds heal.
I don’t wanna anymore. Dance has started to become something I feel pressured to “move up” with, as if there’s some ladder I’m trying to climb. It’s starting to affect my relationships with other dancers, building a more competitive atmosphere. I start to look for innovations and ways to make “my mark” instead of dancing as I’m moved.
When I start to feel as if people are invading my turf, or stealing my thunder, it should be a warning sign. My goals for dance are sharing and collaboration, not hoarding and manipulating.
When I begin to feel that if I’m being left out because I’m not playing the back-scratching game, I need to evaluate what my boundaries are and why I’m doing something.
When I begin to feel as if I’m running out of time, I need to review my perceptions and beliefs.
I need a head and heart check.
Don’t get me wrong - I’ve a degree in business and I understand marketing and methods of building business and success. I live the corporate life every day. I am a professional in the things I do, and I expect to be treated that way. It’s when the ”profession” starts feeling more like a mafia family than a community that I wonder if it is what I want.
So, I’m tendering my resignation, here and now, from the profession of bellydance.
As in, I’m withdrawing from the larger bellydance “profession” pressure in order to redefine my own goals, terms of personal success, and head towards them. This is my official way of saying, “screw you, rat race of bellydance.” I refuse to make this a race to the finish line, a competition where I undermine others to get ahead.
I’m going to keep dancing, and dance at events I want to dance at, dance to music I’m interested in dancing to, and put as much of myself into it as possible.
I’m going to focus on being successful at the things I’ve already committed to, and not extend myself to try and be everywhere and for everyone. I’m going to keep writing, connecting and immersing myself in the dance, freely as I feel moved.
I’m going to reassess the path my dance should take, and make sure that my training and certifications fit that path, and not let judgments, popularity or guilt influence those decisions. I want what is best for me.
I’m going to pull in and achieve the health and training goals I’ve put forth for myself year after year and always sacrificed. Now I will put the necessary resources towards achieving them.
I’m going to become financially and physically stable, through training and focus. I’m going to clean up my temples - home and body.
I’m going to immerse myself in community, in friendships and collaborations. I’m going to dance with an open heart and open spirit, bringing all of that to the stage when I perform. I’m going to pursue the arts that inspire me, however that might be.
I’ll emerge stronger than before, and all of the bellydance world will still be there when I get back. If it isn’t, then it was a fickle bitch to begin with, and I don’t need something like that as a part of my life.