I GAVE BIRTH TO THE THING AND NOW I HAVE TO FEED IT…
…My blog, that is. I put off starting one for more than a year because (a) I’m not that interesting (b) I couldn’t imagine what I’d find to say. Writing fiction is easy; I do it every day. Writing a blog is hard! And some people have a half dozen of them and blog every day. Ack. Well, I’ve “birthed” this sucker, so now I’m going to have to gird my ample loins and plunk them down in a chair a couple of times a week and say something. And then the BIG trick is–how do I get anyone to read it? And, once having read it, how do I get them to be filled with the insatiable desire to buy The Phoenix, which, I presume, is the whole purpose of doing it?
Well, let’s see. Recently I bitched about cell phone users. What else has annoyed me this week? Ah…. how about dance recitals? That’s a subject almost sure to interest somebody and they say there’s no such thing as bad publicity. On the other hand, this was not something I want to be flip about because it really and sincerely troubled me.
Let’s establish right off that I’m not a prude. I enjoy dancing as long as I’m not the one attempting it, because I am Queen of the Klutzes. I trip over the pattern in vinyl flooring. However, I love Dancing with the Stars and in my fantasies I’m 45 years younger, a foot taller, 80 pounds lighter, and look amazingly like Edyta Sliwinska only better. No, it’s not skimpy costumes and sexy dances that bother me at all, when the dancers are adults.
It’s skimpy (rather, skimpy-appearing) costumes and sexy dances performed by little girls from age four to pre-teen. I went to the dance recital of a friend’s daughter recently; this little one takes ballet and that was what I expected. I saw the ballet performance, which lasted about three minutes (with odd, un-ballet-like music, but that’s ok), and two other classes about the same length. There were acrobatic performers as well who were awesome in their grace.
The rest of the endless four hours (and I do not exaggerate) was filled with the aforementioned little girls shimmying like pole dancers and “music”–I suppose it was music, though my ears became so numb it was hard to tell–pounding hip-hop out at decibels that would drown out a jet engine. A word about the costumes–I said “skimpy-appearing” and that’s correct. Seen up close the “exposed” torsos were flesh-colored sections and they wore flesh-colored tights. But the desired effect of sexy outfits was achieved when viewed from the audience. And what got the most screams and wolf whistles of approval from the audience? The little girls who turned their backs to the audience and shimmied their backsides, thrust their pelvises and gyrated like Dancing With the Stars on Latin night, (described by the host as “when the costumes get skimpier and the dances get hotter”.)
I am puzzled as to what artistic merit this has when done by little children. I can see that it’s amazing to have that kind of control over your body especially at a young age. I can appreciate the limberness and poise and rhythm. I just don’t see the point in teaching little girls who are still built like kidney beans to shake their booties like women on top of a bar. It’s not graceful. It’s not lovely. It’s not expressive. Well, it is expressive, but I’m not sure it’s expressing things we really want little girls to express. And they are totally innocent of the effect. All they know is they love the applause and the raucous approval.
Ah, I hear someone saying, “If you didn’t like it why didn’t you leave?” Would that I could have. But the ballet was halfway through the program and then there was a finale that involved all the students. So I was stuck.
The sexualization of children is a serious matter. I thought after the murder of Jon Benet Ramsey and the resultant debates about the sexualization of children that common sense might reappear, but that was a forlorn hope. Maybe I’m overly sensitive to the possibilities because of my own history. As a pre-schooler I was the victim of a pedophile over a three-year period. And as all pedophiles do, he convinced me that I was to blame. I have mercifully blocked out most details, but I remember a word he used many times though I didn’t know for a long time what it meant: “enticed”. I “enticed” him with my little dresses and my ruffled sox. Sick people like that man see “enticement” in ordinary actions and dress. What do you think goes through their minds when they see little girls tarted up and doing suggestive dance moves?
Well, I’m only one person and my opinions doesn’t weigh as much as a straight pin. But if I could give one dance teacher pause, I’d be happy. In the meantime, as long as my friend’s little girl takes dance, I’ll just have to grin and bear it to support her work and effort.
Next time–no grousing!! I’m going to tell about a book I read recently which is absolutely a-maz-ing.
Ruth Sims
www.ruthsims.com
author:
Novel: The Phoenix (ForeWord Magazine Book of the Year HM)
video for The Phoenix: http://youtube.com/user/badcock24
now available on Amazon & fine bookstores
Short story, TOM: or, An Improbable Tail–in two anthologies: Charmed Lives (Lethe) & Best Gay Romance (Cleis)
and in April issue of Forbidden Fruit e-zine http://www.forbiddenfruitzine.com/
Short story, “Mariel” — Blithe House Quarterly http://www.blithe.com/
Short story “Mr. Newby’s Revenge” to be in Fall issue of MystericalE at www.mystericale.com