A Stranger's Lesson

Last summer while in New York I observed a master class taught by Dwight Rhoden and Desmond Richardson, co-artistic directors of the world renown Complexions Contemporary Ballet (http://www.complexionsdance.org/). My sisters and I have known Dwight and Desmond for over 15 years having first met them while they were principal dancers with the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater teaching master classes in Boston. Taking class with them ‘back in the day’ was an experience unlike no other. Their choreography, music selection, and energy would electrify the dance studio and everyone in it. Their work was challenging and inspiring. So much so that my sister Musau and I would schedule our vacations from work around their teaching schedule and take two classes a day for the entire week every time they came to town.

As Dwight and Desmond progressed as choreographers and artists their classes evolved and became increasingly challenging. I have to admit that, as time went by, I allowed myself to become intimidated by the work and slowly began to retreat from the classes. First, I started to leave class right after the warm up and head for the dressing room at the first sign of something that I thought would be too much for me. I was fine with that, because their warm up was usually a good 30 - 40 minutes and extremely INTENSE so it wasn’t like I was completely slacking. Besides, I was getting older…nobody expected me to try to keep up with the real, younger dancers who flocked to the classes. Soon after, however, I stopped taking the classes all together.

My perspective changed while I was watching Dwight’s and Desmond’s class this summer during a visit to New York. I noticed something, rather someone, who inspired me to get back in the game. In the midst of about 30 very fit, very young dancers taking class, I saw a man taking class who was in his late 60’s, overweight and had absolutely no dance training whatsoever. Every time the men’s group took its turn doing the choreography he would come out, stand in the middle of the floor, and start doing his own thing – completely un-phased by what was going on around him. After his group went the second time, Dwight walked to where he was standing and whispered something to him. I was sure he told him that this class was too advanced for him and that he should probably excuses himself. As Dwight came walking back to the front of the class our eye’s met and he gave me a look that confirmed that I was right. Or so I thought.

The next time Dwight called the group, the guy came out and, once again, did his own thing. I was mortified! I was sure Dwight had told him to leave. How could he have been so disrespectful? After class while we were chatting I asked Dwight what he told the man. He said he just recommended that he dance in the back line when his group was on the floor so that he wouldn’t get hurt. When I asked him why he didn’t ask him to leave he said that the guy wasn’t bothering anybody so he let him be. As we were talking the man in question walked up to Dwight thanked him for class and asked me if I was a member of Complexions. I said ‘no’ and told him, half-joking, that he had more courage than I did since he took the whole class while I watched from the front. He looked at me with a big grin on his face and sweat pouring down his face and said “I just like to be in the room”.

His words almost moved me to tears. It summed up how I USED to feel when I took those master classes and it was something I missed. I could have chosen to challenge myself and do my best to master the work. Instead, I punked out. In the process I denied myself the powerful feelings of aliveness that I felt during the classes and the immense feelings of accomplishment that I felt after the classes were over.

“I just like to be in the room”. Hearing those words inspired me to get back in the saddle – and not just in the dance studio. Since the summer I’ve moved my dance training back to the top of my agenda. I’ve been seeking out new teachers and dance studios and pushing myself to build my technique and bolster my confidence. I’ve also set a goal to take a full-week of master classes with Dwight and Desmond this summer – without retreating to the dressing room when things get tough.

Complacency and fear are like carbon monoxide. If you are not vigilant they can sneak up on you and drain you of your life force before you know it. I am thankful to this stranger who opened my eyes to how I have allowed these two dream snatchers to stop me from pushing myself as a dancer. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not trying to become a professional dancer. I just want to be like the courageous stranger: in the room, focused and fearless.