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Just like that, a flip switch’s inside of me. I feel the rage in my limbs as my fingers crawl up my body, clutch my face and grip my hair. Pulling at the strands, I tip my head back and scream silently. I remember how David used to take great pleasure in grabbing my hair and yanking out clumps of it when he used to beat on me. There were so many times he dragged me across the floor by a fistful of hair as I clawed at his hands, as I twisted and fought for him to free me. If he watches this, he’ll understand. I know he will.
Stepping forward a few steps, I punch out with my fists, I lash out with my legs. I fight back with every enraged step just like I did as a kid. Sia sings about being worn down, about struggling beneath someone’s abuse.
He wore me down. He beat me. He hurt me. Abused me. Was cruel. Vindictive. Vile.
I was a child with no one to protect me. No one. All I had was myself. I was just a fucking kid.
But I never once allowed him to destroy my soul. He might have beat me black and blue. He might have torn the hair from my head. He might have kicked me, slapped me, punched me, but he never,everbroke me.
Dance saved my life as a kid.
Right now, I’m using it to express everything I was never able to say.
Digging deep, I put every unspoken word into my dance. Every movement I make with my body is afuck youto the man who hurt me in the worst possible way.
As I dance, I imitate the way I’d fought him as a defenseless kid. My body is all hard edges and sharp angles, turning it into a weapon as I try to fight back. Lifting my leg up, my knee bent, my foot raised, I kick out. I follow through the movement with a raised fist, my face twisting up in agony.
But he was always too strong.
I drop to my knees, my hands reaching upwards for that invisible tormentor, as I claw at the memory, my face twisting in agony. He fucking wore me down. He pushed me to the ground. He bruised and clawed. He punched and kicked. Right here on the stage I curl up into that ball. Trying to make myself small, hidden, invisible.
I curl up wanting to disappear.
NO!
This dance isn’t about being small, suppressed. This is about fighting back. This is about getting back up every time I’ve been knocked down. This is about finding strength. Courage.
Tears stream down my face as my fingers claw at the floor, as I lift my shoulders up, my forehead pressed against the wooden boards of the stage. My right leg straightens as I kick out to the side. Pointing my toes, I push up onto my hands and look directly into the camera then I slam my fist against the floor repeatedly before sliding out my left leg so that I’m now sitting in the splits, my legs horizontal to the floor. With the next beat, I bring my legs together in front of me. Reaching up, I punch at the air then lie back, place my hands above my shoulders and kick my legs up and over my head in a backwards floor flip, landing on my feet with grace and ease.
Swiping at my eyes, I flick my gaze to the spot in the auditorium where I know my Breakers and my friends are sitting. I jerk my chin at them and I fucking smile. I can hear nothing but Sia’s voice sounding out over the speakers, but I know I have their support, their love. I can feel their energy. It gives me the fire, the fuel to keep dancing.
Focusing back on the camera, I reach out with my hands and claw my fingers, imitating how my brother would wrap his around my throat. Then I grab my wrist with my hand and yank it down, stamping out my anger before throwing my arms wide, and twisting away in a pirouette.
That’s the moment I let go. My feet practically fly across the stage as I dance just like a bird set free, just like Sia sings. My wings are no longer clipped. I’m no longer broken. I’m no longer beaten to the ground. I’m no longer silent.
Dancing is my voice, and by God, it’s fucking loud. I’m screaming at the top of my lungs with my movements. I’m roaring, fucking hollering. Every step is a word that I yell.
For so long I let my fear rule me. I held it all inside.
Not anymore.
Running across the stage, I jump upwards into a straddle split leap, ripping through the air. I fucking soar, my legs wide, my arms flung out, a brilliant smile spreading across my face.
When I land, I immediately spin out into a series of pirouettes until I’m back at the spot on the stage where I started. With a heaving chest, I throw my arms wide then tip my head back in another silent roar.
Then I use all that strength, that courage and I funnel it back into the second half of my routine, into hip-hop. Stepping into theSupermanmove, I throw my arms up and kick back with my legs before changing tempo and transitioning into theStick and Roll,jerking my elbows back as though I’m pulling on a rope whilst my knees turn inwards. With every step, I draw on the dance I shared with my Breakers when we were kids, using it now.
I dance for that kid who fought for her life and made me into the woman I am today.
I dance with strength, courage and fierceness.
When the song finishes, the final chords playing out over the auditorium, I stand covered in a sheen of sweat. I feel that rush of power I always get when I dance and funnel all of that energy into my eyes as I look directly into the camera.
This is for you David. This is the one and only dance you shall ever get from me.
Fuck you.
Fuck you, David.
