Each Monday I walk about 15 mins to go to a Belly Dance class. This class was something that my roommates (when I had them) and I would attend religiously. Its not a typically hard class, although the workout makes me very sore the day after. This class has become my one really extra thing that I do every week. It costs five whole dollars (I know really low for a class) and I get my work out at the same time.
I know very few of the women who attend every week, and yet together I share something very deep with each of them. Together we make complete fools of ourselves, bending our bodies, trying to do the movements of the teacher. Together we sweat and laugh. We do not judge each others weight nor the color of our skin. I feel very comfortable among the older black women who attend, I feel like I belong there.
I find it interesting that in order to find the community I crave, I pay money to sweat and laugh. At first I did feel like an outsider, someone who had stepped in on something that was meant for other people. Like a child who is allowed to stay up when there are guests over, and yet is left out of the conversation. The child never complains about this, because somehow, she feels that to be left out would be worse, as if to miss some kind of magic. But this feeling has morphed till I feel one of the group.
So last night, Monday night, I was forced to follow a different teacher. My body, thrown by the difference in style and pace, is still sore. Last night I was forced to take ibuprofen in order to sleep, because of my aching bones (which despite my youth, makes me feel rather old). And I found that my community was shaken by the difference. And yet next week I am sure it will feel all the better with our new teacher. Interesting community and feelings just from a dance class.
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