Then , a dozen years later on a beach vacation , I was strolling the hotel ’ s back patio when I saw fifteen women madly swiveling their hips to a beat that reached to the back of my belly . It was like getting hit with that lightning bolt at the ice rink . Zumba , with its hot-colored music and shoulder shimmies , body-rolled me right back into dance . Back home , one teacher — a dance instructor elsewhere — kept pushing us a little further past the borders of salsa and dance-adjacent exercise . The Tuesday-night regulars begged for more complicated moves , and our teacher obliged . We discovered in each other an absolute allegiance to dance . It has bound us as tightly together as any tribe of passionate hobbyists , and occasionally leads us out of town for country line dancing at the Mishnock Barn , or to catch an Island Moving Company performance in Newport . When a new studio opened in town , we signed up for all of the adult classes together .
I have always exercised . Kickboxing , spin , step aerobics , weight training – whatever the gym offered , I accepted . Dance is the most difficult physical activity I have ever tried . It requires you to will every synapse in your head to fire so that your limbs obey the commands from your brain . Place your head , your hips , your hands just so . Do that over and over again in a sequence of different movements and combinations without the crutch of repetition . Take directional cues . Count ; find the space for each step . And while you are doing all of that , emote along with the music . Be sassy : Throw that shoulder , or melt with yearning . Now , you are dancing .
Science says it ’ s good for you . Several small studies have shown that dance requires complex mental coordination , stimulating different parts of the brain , reducing stress , raising serotonin levels and improving memory and physical coordination . Dance is thought to lower the risk of dementia and blunt the effects of Parkinson ’ s disease . I saw this in an older gentleman who joined our Zumba class to relieve his symptoms . He loved it so much he became certified as an instructor . The last time I saw him was at a Zumba belly-dancing event , hip-dropping amid 100 women . “ This is so much fun !” he shouted .
To be clear , I am not a good dancer . Ask anyone in my family . They call me Elaine , after “ Seinfeld ’ s ” Elaine Benes , who danced as though she was extricating goldfish from her underpants . My oldest niece does a pretty funny parody of my Zumba . They will be talking about one 1984 lyrical performance at my funeral . “ I always remember that ,” my sister says . “ Why ?” “ Because it was hysterical . It was all little kids in a recital and then you two came out . You were in nightgowns .” ( They were costumes .) Ballet is a struggle . My muscles have no memories ; my brain never learned the terms . The sturdy balance I once relied upon departed sometime around age sixty . Pointed feet quickly devolve into cramped feet . The saut de chat thwarts me . It requires a dancer to push off the back leg , and kick out the front leg . At the height of the leap , the arms sweep up and the legs flare out , toes pointed , scissor straight . Mine calls to mind a burglar vaulting a fence with cops in hot pursuit .
At the same time , I am not a bad dancer . I remember the choreo . I keep up . And I ’ ve made progress . Dance , like everything else , improves with practice . I no longer lose awareness of my body in space when I turn , and my assemble doesn ’ t look so disassembled anymore . I am proud of every nanosecond I stay aloft on one leg with my hands off the barre . Ellen-1 . Gravity-0 . When I catch myself slumping in the grocery store , I assume the posture of a proud queen . “ You are a dancer ,” I remind myself .
Listen : I ’ d love to be good . I ’ ll settle for credible .
No matter what the mirror says , when I dance , I feel beautiful , powerful and in control . At the same time , I feel free from the limitations of age and life ’ s great weight . It pulls me back to childhood , when I was little and fast . I ’ d run for what felt like a long distance and , when I realized I was not winded at all , I thought I could run forever . �
RHODE ISLAND MONTHLY l MARCH 2022 53