Never Stop Dancing

I’m pretty sure there’s a dancing instructor’s rule that says mocking your students is frowned upon. But here we are. Having just completed a proficient kick ball change, high kick, arms raised, head back and graceful drop to the ground combination, my ever-implied cheerleader, Ray, is now doubled over in laughter. Without anyone requesting it, I watch him in the wall-to-wall mirror he and his wife Carina have installed in the wood paneled room in their small apartment. He’s – with much exaggeration – reenacting how dramatic, ungraceful and comedic my graceful drop actually was. Especially how my raised arms resembled the karate kid before my bowing head completed the move. Because I’ve learned something about the lack of tact sometimes witnessed in Asian communities, I’m also genuinely laughing with him – because he was right! Even though I’m a spirited, enthusiastic and committed dancer in general, mine is an indirect, sideways kind of soul that takes you by surprise. Or as my own eternally doting mom once confessed “Debbi, you have always been a little bit stiff!” It doesn’t matter because, what I lack in execution, I fully possess in my mind, spirit and soul – where true rhythm is actually, flawlessly choreographed! Thank you!

I’m not bothered in the least by Ray punctuating his dance instruction with unorthodox belly laughs, while I roll my eyes with mock indignation because this moment is actually an answer to prayer. We’d lived in Cambodia for over a decade by now, and I let God know that I was desperate for my own creative, artistic, joy-filled, 7 on the Enneagram, Black woman outlet. 

Ray and Carina did not disappoint. This attractive, stage ready, professionally trained young couple from the Philippines, were more than credentialled enough to lead dance exercise classes in their home. 

Twice a week, about twelve to fifteen women ranging from their mid 20s to late 40s would awkwardly gather in front of the wall-to-wall mirrors. 

Eventually, we stopped tugging at our baggy shorts and t-shirts. Stopped pulling on our lack of self-esteem and immobilizing self-consciousness.  Now, instead of being intimidated, our multinational group of mostly Catholic and Protestant women, relaxed some of our rigid lack of liberation theology. We allowed our hips to freely roam, side to side, front and back, as instructed. Tracing the outer circle of our comfort zone to the left and then to the right.

One evening, much to our surprise, Ray announced that not only would he be choreographing a dance routine for our class, but that we would be performing this number at the 1st Annual International Dance Festival in Phnom Penh. Whaaaat?! 

Introducing: the Studio K Dancers! We began our three-part Latin, Soul, Charleston, dance routine. 

We glided across the stage, chins confidently lifted to accommodate the piercing gaze of our eyes; shoulders back, sashaying like we owned the attention of everyone in the room. We finished the intro with a dramatic, panic-producing eight count move that took our scarves from around our waists, opened, triangled, twisted them, and brought them to their resting places as elegant shawls around our shoulders and Vogue model arched backs!  We exited stage left to remove skirts and return with our leggings and disco ball-like sparkling tank tops befitting the music video background dancers we could have been. 

Then, Ms. Jackson demanded that we keep up with every synchronized move, soul train runaway rhythm, and by all means, do not lose control during that kick ball change, high kick, funky drop to the ground. Feeling more than a little accomplished, we disappeared behind the curtain for our white, starched, oversized mens’ shirts and ties! We left no generation behind with our spiced-up Twist: smooth stepping, my eight-year-old daughter, Alana, cartwheeling the grand finale. 

Relieved to be finished with the more complex choreography, our Charleston joy and exuberance was real. This was where we let go of all our formal jobs, serious roles, challenging relationships, layered responsibilities, nonstop cultural faux pas and just let loose! Until it was time for the final pose; then we were, once again, Studio K Divas!!

Even more than the fitness, risk-taking dance challenges and a great sense of community, I realized that I could go to God with very personalized requests. The kind that centered around lightness, not solving important questions or even saving the world. I absolutely love when God restores unto me the joy of my salvation, but I’m also deeply moved when God restores and resuscitates the salvation of my joy. Entertains my spirit’s desire to come out and play. Allows my soul train line of communication to be heard and honored as valuable. Sharing the gift of holy, sacred laughter at unforgettable memories. 

Yes, I nailed that high kick during the Janet Jackson segment. However, my showtime elegant, gliding, Latina-infused moment resembled more of a marching matador approaching a charging bull! I wasn’t the most graceful dancer on the stage that night, but you best believe I committed to my moves! 

I’m grateful that I’m able to look back on this moment with the realization that sometimes answered prayer can also be a laughing matter.

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Deborah Masten is currently the Director of Global Personnel with Serve Globally – a national office of the Evangelical Covenant Church. Formerly on staff at Quest Church in Seattle as the Associate Director of Global and Local Ministries, she is a licensed therapist,  has lived in Cambodia for 14 years, has 3 adult children who live on the West Coast, and is captivated by the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theatre. You can find her on Instagram here.