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Wheelchair Dancing
Written by Chloe on Monday, January 25, 2010
This had to come sooner or later; an evening of dancing in my wheelchair. I should have learnt by now that there is nothing to be nervous about such things; but I was nervous anyway.
My Dance Partner
Alicia suggested that we go hang out at the lesbian bar on dance night. It sounded good to me. On the way there I asked "You are going to dance with me, right?" She said "No, I never dance in public." Oops! How could I forget? She’s too shy, introverted and self conscious for such things.
I got lucky. Alicia had arranged to meet someone there. That someone had brought along her sizzling hot twenty six year old heterosexual niece, who just happened to be into dancing. At some point in the evening I told her that I had the best dance partner, and she replied "I have the best dance partner too." Okay… Wow… Excellent! I can take compliments. It sounded sincere.
My dance partner thought my "Girl on Girl" T-shirt was pretty cool. She said her aunt had one like it too.
The Dancing
I don’t know how to dance in a wheelchair… I just made it up as I went along. Beforehand I had told myself "DON’T show off with those one-handed wheelies." HA! That went out of the window after a couple of beers. It turned out to be my favorite dance move; a one-handed wheelie with the other arm gesturing up in the air. It seemed particularly fun to link these, alternating arms, so that one is spinning, zig-zagging, and popping the casters up and down in time with the music. I don’t really know what it looked like; probably a one-legged albatross trying to take off. By repeating with the same arm, I discovered another way to propel and steer a wheelchair left or right with just one arm.
Okay, I admit it, these one-handed wheelies had me on the verge of tipping backwards countless times during the evening, though I managed to avoid mishap. I didn’t consciously intend to move my legs at all, but I sometimes noticed an instinctive right leg kick to make the save. I’m curious as to how it can just be the right leg at an unconscious level. I’m dubious about the left leg brace making the difference. Is it possible that the concept of my left leg being paralysed is more deeply embedded in my brain, compared with the right leg? I don’t know. There wasn’t even a muscle twitch in my left leg, that I’m aware of.
The style of dancing needed to be adjusted according to the number of people on the dance floor. Not infrequently it was just me and my dance partner out there. On such occasions I could use the whole space; like accelerating as fast as possible across the diagonal and doing a super fast twirl in the corner with one arm in the air, just before it seemed like I would surely crash into the tables and chairs.
At other times the dance floor was crowded, and I needed to make sure to keep to my own space. All went well; I didn’t bump into anyone.
On a couple of rare occasions I was out there by myself, and people watched of course. I would watch anybody dancing alone regardless of whether they had a wheelchair. It convinced me that there just isn’t any circumstance where I would be at all self conscious about being in a wheelchair. Apparently I have no problem with a solo dance performance. Any trace of nervousness had completely vanished the moment my wheels hit the dance floor.
The People
The most fun part of the evening was my interaction with other people. To start off with, the very friendly all female lesbian vibe made this feel like a safe and comfortable venue to make a fool of myself. I knew that if I fell out of my wheelchair I would immediately burst out laughing, and there would be plenty of people eager to help.
Not long after we had started dancing, someone came over to talk with me. She said something along the lines of "It’s great to see you dancing. Some people would say ‘I can’t. I have a problem’." I replied "There is no problem." It feels very good to project a positive image of people with disabilities. By our example people see that we CAN do things, AND have a great deal of fun doing them.
About six people came over to dance with me during the course of the evening. They were all cute femmes. Since my dance partner was such a hottie, the femmes probably figured I would be more receptive to them. It happens to be true. The last of these was gorgeous. Soon after we started dancing together she bent down and said "You’re fabulous!" Then we exchanged hugs, kisses, more compliments, and names, in no particular order. More dancing… More hugs…
Since I don’t think there is any point in writing here unless we are honest, I have an admission to make: I felt envious a couple of times. It was when people were dancing and wiggling their cute butts nearby, which happened to be around eye level. I couldn’t do what they were doing; dancing on their legs. They weren’t paralysed. This was a strong, albeit fleeting, emotion. I wondered if it was reasonable to feel this way, under the circumstance. On reflection, I think that it was. Why would I not have the normal emotions that anyone with paraplegia might experience? I wouldn’t want to avoid them in any case.
Aftermath
I was dancing for more than half of the evening; more than three hours of actual dancing time. I had worries about triggering fibromyalgia, since a five week long episode had dissipated just a few days earlier. It didn’t happen. I didn’t even have any muscle soreness the next day.
What I did have were big open blisters where thumbs meet hands, from friction with the tires. Ouch! Am I doing something wrong? Later, I talked about it with my friend who is into (wheelchair) ballroom dancing. She hasn’t had that issue, but suggested that my wheeling gloves might solve the problem. I’ll bring them next time.
Alicia gave me some feedback about her impression of my dancing. She had been sitting at a table the whole time, with her friend and a good view of the dance floor. She said that my projection of carefree exuberant joy was very striking. It all seemed completely real, authentic and beautiful to her. I was just being me. I told her about my envy of others dancing on their legs. She thought that was a good sign, that I would not feel that way unless I truly thought of myself as paraplegic?
My dance partner’s aunt had asked Alicia "Was Chloe born paraplegic?" I’ll take that as a compliment. I’d like to be giving the impression of being a long time wheelchair user.
Later, Alicia reminded me of a little self help message that I had stuck on the refrigerator door a few weeks ago. I had written to myself "BEYOND FEAR: There is nothing to fear." She suggested that the intensity of joy I experienced while dancing was a reflection of the fear of BIID that I had a couple of years ago. It is indeed a wonderful thing to overcome the fear of being oneself. Living an authentic life can be a scary prospect; it makes one quite vulnerable. Embracing the vulnerability enables one to go beyond fear.
Most Importantly
This was absolutely the best time I have ever had in a wheelchair.
Tags: Albatross, BIID, Dancing, Leg Brace, Lesbian, Paralysed, Paraplegia, Wheelchair, Wheelie
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7 Comments
Oh how wonderful Chloe. Did anyone video this event?
Years ago when I directed a disabled drama group, the members asked if they could hold a dance at the end of the season. So that evening I took along my DJ gear. I’d never done this before and felt quite nervous but I was lucky to have a little helper. Actually my new-found quad friend had only come up to ask for a disc but I insisted he stayed next to me to help choose the music. He didn’t mind as he was not too keen on dancing and felt much more important in his role of music supervisor.
We started very sedately (at the time there were a still of lot of dances requiring hand contact). We progressed to rock n roll. I watched wide-eyed as they did all sorts of gymnastics I’d never seen before.
I tried out a Conga and we did it in reverse and climaxed with The Locomotion with only a few derailments.
It was a great evening. A truly treasured memory.
As a footnote to this, a few days later Alicia texted my psychotherapist about her experience of watching me dance. She ended “It was wonderful to see her so happy.”
4 On 25 January, 2010, Sean said:
Reminds me very much of my own experiences going dancing with my late wife. We usualy went to a gay/lesbian club, as it was nearby, it was fully accessible, and we didn’t get the dirty looks we often got at “straight” clubs. Only thing was, she had to fight off guys trying to pick me up! LOL
5 On 25 January, 2010, Phil said:
I wanted to write: “I am speechless”, but who would believe that?
When dancing, after a while I often forget totally about my legs and BIID, about a lot of things. I just move with the music. And often I just watch all these beautiful people and their bodies awake, relax, express themselves and the music…
I never would have the courage to go dancing in my wheelchair. But at least I can enjoy dancing on my legs. It loosens stiffnesses in my hips and legs and rump and everywhere else. That is a form of liberation and relief.
Yes, there might be a difference between the legs. I feel the amputation line in my right thigh more intensely and more concretely than in my left thigh. Maybe because I am right-handed, so it’s my “dominant” side.
When you, Chloe, feel a bit sad or envious because the others can move their feet, legs and hips freely — would you feel good when dancing without wheelchair and braces and all that?
Hi Phil,
To me, the difference between legs supports the hypothesis that BIID is more a matter of brain function than psychology. Since early childhood I have known a number of people who needed a leg brace. To the best of my recollection they have all been both legs or right leg only. My need for a left leg brace is suggestive that it was not modeled after any other individual.
On rare occasions I dance at home with Alicia, without wheelchair or braces. I would feel far too self conscious to attempt such a thing in public. Last time was at a wedding almost three years ago.
7 On 27 January, 2010, Phil said:
A hypothesis my therapist had (or still has) is that BIID is a symbol for the inhibitions, for being too self-conscious.
But maybe it’s the other way round. Or both. Or they have nothing to do with each other, BIID and self-consciousness.
But in any case it does good to overcome self-consciousness and inhibitions. Not only by wheeling, but also when not wheeling.
Brain or psyche, the difference is not really big. The psyche needs the brain, too.
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1 On 25 January, 2010, Gordo said:
I’m actually kind of speechless after reading this. There’s something beautiful about this post.