The Power of Belonging
One Saturday afternoon many years ago, I sat on the floor of my bedroom with the contents of my makeup case strewn in a circle around my legs, sobbing because I could not find my tube of Maybelline SuperStay Matte Ink in Pioneer. The lipstick in question wasn’t a beloved shade, or something I wore for a good look. It didn’t even look particularly nice on me. It was the lipstick shade that was chosen by my troupe leader and required for all performances. If you weren’t sporting Pioneer on your lips by call time, you weren’t performing that day.
I loved my troupe and my troupemates, but I frequently felt like I was always missing the mark in feeling and acting like a “real” member. I was still a fairly new belly dancer and was shocked and incredibly flattered when I was asked to join this troupe, but I was equally shocked at the amount of money, effort, and time I invested in making sure I fit in. I quickly maxed out a credit card purchasing the required costuming, the makeup, the practice clothes, and the extra lessons and classes to ensure I was brought up to speed on the choreographies and improv concepts necessary to perform. I felt like a runner on a treadmill set to EXTREMELY FREAKING FAST, and I am not much of a runner in the best of situations.
After I parted ways with that troupe, I tried a different dance format and fell absolutely in love with it, but again faced the same expectations of what was necessary to fit in with the classes and troupe. We didn’t just need a skirt, we needed a certain color skirt with a certain pattern. Our hairstyles needed to be the same, and if you couldn’t sweep your hair into a low bun, you either needed to grow it out or buy some quickly. Music was pre-approved and if it wasn’t on the already vetted list, performers weren’t allowed to dance to it. When I questioned the need to be in lockstep with the status quo, the response was: “If we did whatever we wanted, the [dance format] would be meaningless.”
On one hand, I get it. I live in America, and while Americans prize fierce independence and individuality, our Western puritanical origins also value consistency, uniformity, and fitting in. I grew up in the 80s and 90s, when being different meant getting pushed into lockers. I was a member of the marching band, where we spent an hour before school and three hours every weekend working our hardest to look like one cohesive unit, with no individual musician stealing the spotlight from the ensemble. There’s a certain beauty to that level of sameness. It’s safe. It can be supportive. It allows you to lean on the others blending in with you vs. throwing yourself out there and accepting the vulnerability of being perceived. In many ways, fitting in is a very attractive concept.
As I got older, I started realizing that I was less interested in fitting in and more interested in finding authentic belonging in my dance community. I once again changed dance format and decided to be vulnerable by taking on a whole new way of moving my body and a very different way of expressing myself. Ultimately, this new direction led me to the Stygian Collective, where I fell in love with a (kinda small back then!) group of dancers who were unapologetically themselves while also being relentlessly supportive of everyone else doing things their own way. It was not about matching costumes, or the perfect shade of black nail polish, or refining the angles of our pinky fingers until we all were indistinguishable from one another. It was simply about dancing as hard as we could and having a hell of a good time.
The author and podcaster Brene Brown covers the ideal of fitting in vs. belonging in her books Braving the Wilderness and The Call to Courage, and watching her speak on this gave words to what I had instinctively felt for years. Brown captures the concept as: "If I get to be me, I belong. If I have to be like you, I fit in." She elaborates further on this by saying that true belonging happens in a space she calls “The Wilderness” – a state of being completely authentic and vulnerable, either in solitude or while seeking connection, without conforming to ideological or aesthetic ideas set by the group. Brown also says that true communities allow members to take on being authentic as a daily practice - the good, bad, and ugly sides of it - without judging or suggesting easy fixes to keep the group comfortable, and that groups who truly support belonging vs. fitting in recognize that belonging requires a daily commitment to authenticity, even if it’s difficult.
I can honestly say that of the many, many belly dance communities I have joined, The Stygian Collective is one of the absolute best representatives of that practice. When I initially signed up I was worried I wasn’t metal enough or dark enough for the members to accept me. When I realized that not only did they not care, they actually delighted in the things I did bring to the community, it gave me the freedom to relax and explore. Ultimately, I did find connections to a ton of metal and dark fusion music and performers I never would’ve felt comfortable to enjoy in the past. The patience and open hearted enthusiasm of all of our members is the true essence of fostering belonging in our community of weirdos.
If you’re interested in learning more about how our Stygian members have found their place, their voice, or reignited their passion for belly dance by joining the Collective, check out some of our testimonials here: https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=2100233140767711
And if you’re ready to leave The Wilderness and join us on a path to radical self-acceptance, and the joy of dancing for yourself while being lifted up by a vibrant group of total badasses, we would be thrilled to welcome you and tell you how much you are loved… just for being you.
Check out the Stygian Collective here.
