I was three years old when my parents bought me my first pair of tap shoes. I never imagined the magical journey upon which I would be taken by those shoes. Tapping transcended adolescent insecurities and issues at school. I would don my tap shoes and hustle to the basement in my parent's home where I would tap out my frustrations. I believe that during those times when I was dancing, spinning, turning, and dreaming that I was Dorothy in Oz, the foundation of my future was laid; for as I was learning the joy of tap dancing, I was really learning the true joy of passion and self-discovery.
As my dancing improved, I began to enter contests and received very positive feedback in the form of ribbons, and trophies and verbal accolades. One particular dance competition, however, stands out most clearly in my memory. As a confident 16 year old, I entered a tap competition in Pittsburgh. The winner was to spend a day in New York City with tap legend, Gregory Hines. I was quite happy to be one of the ten selected a finalists; but when I did not win and wasn't selected as the overall winner, I began to question what I thought was my life's goal. At the age of 16 I set my tap shoes aside. Overtaken by my anger, disappointment, and frustration, my passion for tap waned.
Although tap was no longer my focus, I nonetheless continued with other dance forms-jazz,lyrical and ballet. Upon graduating from high school, I enrolled at Point Park University in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania as a jazz dance major. It was during my university experience at Point Park I delved into musical theatre performance. Here I had the opportunity to work with true greats like Maxine Sherman, Betsy Haug, Danny Herman, Mitzi Hamilton and Bob Durkin. I was smitten with the theatre;and, upon graduation, the lure of Broadway was irresistible. I immediately moved to New York following graduation.
Determined to become a Broadway star, I auditioned for shows in and out of the City; but my "big break" just wasn't coming. One day, a few years into my Broadway quest, I noticed a street poster of one of my childhood idols, the great tap master Jimmy Slyde. I felt a tinge, which quickly built to a wave, of the passion that I had long ago buried. I determined, right there and then, that I had to follow these undeniably strong instincts. I had to find out if I could rekindle my passion for tap dancing.
The next evening I cautiously walked into what dancers call a "Hoofer's Club" by the name of "A Place in the Park." As I stood tentatively inside the door for what seemed like an hour. Suddenly, a man approached and in a most welcoming manner, smiled and extended his hand. "Are you a tapper?" he said , "I'm Jimmy Slyde. May I help you?" That night I sat for hours watching Mr. Slyde and his fellow "hoofers" work through their routines. When he took breaks, Mr. Slyde talked to me about tap dancing, his love for the craft, and my childhood obsession.
At Mr. Slyde's encouragement, I returned to the club night after night. Jimmy Slyde took time to work with me on the technique and the art of "hoofing." While he taught me so much on the dance floor, what was more important was Jimmy Slyde listened to me. I was amazed that I had found a soul mate in this legendary "hoofer"; and my passion for tap grew even stronger with his support and that of other world class dancers who frequented the club, such as Buster Brown, Henry LeTang, and Gregory Hines. These gentlemen acknowledged my talent and hard work, not with trophies as when I was a child, but with their genuine words of appreciation and encouragement.
Empowered by the great joy of rebirth. I began hoofing in clubs and on the street, and I also auditioned for many parts in musical productions. Yet I was rejected far more often than I thought was merited. This puzzled me, I looked for answers - and got them, in the starkest terms possible. Directly and coldly, I was told the truth and this greatly troubled me. It probably took until the third or fourth time I was told the reason that I was denied a part for the reality to sink in, a reality for which I was completely unprepared. The people casting these shows that they rarely wanted female almost always wanted male tap dancers, and if they wanted one or more women, they wanted them to be African-American.
The familiar anger returned with a fury. At this time, I was working so hard and dancing so much that I developed stiffness and pain in my back and legs. I'm certain that my emotional state contributed to this situation. To remedy the discomfort I joined a class at the Broadway Dance Center which promoted stretching and "core" strength through a program called "Pilates." My teacher, Linda Farrell, taught me the steps to rebuilding my flexibility and reshaping my body. The results were incredible. I studied with Linda for six months and even became a demonstrator for her core videos. Pilates so affected me physically and mentally that I decided I needed to share this method of conditioning with others, and I began to study for my first Pilates certification. Throughout the following year my flexibility and strength continued to improve. With the help of the New York Foundation for the Arts I achieved a World Record for 16 continuous turns in tap shoes.
I continued to tap dance and study Pilates as I kept working in musical theatre performing and directing. In December of 2000 I was directing and off Broadway play when my apartment was destroyed by a fire. I was able to savage only a few significant personal belongings: a photo of me with Gregory Hines, my tap shoes, and my vocal music. I was thankful that I wasn't harmed in the fire, but the event rattled me. The barriers that kept me from breaking into the world of "hoofing" in a serious way remained as insurmountable as ever. I wondered if the apartment fire was a sign that I should leave New York and my Broadway dreams for a different path. I wandered into an empty church and prayed. Tears filled my eyes as I told God I was surrendering my life to him and that I needed His help in finding my true direction. That very evening, a very good friend of mine called to tell me she was losing her roommate and she wanted to know if I wanted to live with her in Brooklyn, New York. "Wow," I thought. "I guess I am supposed to be in Brooklyn. Thank you God!" I moved in with my friend the day before I traveled home to be with my family for Christmas.
During the Christmas visit, my father told me he was seeing a physical therapist and, he said somewhat sheepishly, the therapist was teaching him something called "Kundalini Yoga." As he talked my father ever more effusive in his praise for the physical and emotional benefits he found from performing these yoga exercises. I was curious enough that shortly after my return to Brooklyn, I went to a studio called "Kundalini Yoga East." I had many questions for the instructors, but I was satisfied enough with the answers to enroll in a class. After merely a couple of sessions, I began to see the benefits my father spoke of; I realized that it was the atmosphere and the class for which I had been searching. I felt my anger dissipate and my spirit begin to heal. Master Yogi Bhajan helped me to shed some of my fears and to open my heart to my true self. Furthermore, in my new home in Brooklyn, I was surrounded by trees and away from constant bustle of Manhattan. I felt as if God had put me on this peaceful path, that He led me to Brooklyn, Yoga and the strength to truly reflect on my life and what is really important to me.
As I reflected, I realized how truly incredibly blessed I have been to have had wonderful teachers. These tremendous individuals were school teachers, dance teachers like Jimmy Slyde, Pilates instructors like Linda Farrell, Yoga instructors like Master Yogi Bhajan, all of whom not only taught me subject matter, but more importantly who took a personal interest in my development and who encouraged me to cultivate my talents, and to push myself and to grow as a person. These, I came to appreciate, were the greatest gifts of all; and I came to understand that what truly inspired me was not so much the art that they taught, but the beautiful art of helping others, of sharing- in short, teaching. In short, I discovered a new sense of direction and purpose. So, following their wonderful examples, I too began to teach. All the joy and excitement I've experienced in dance and theater, nothing compares to the exhilaration of knowing that I've truly reached and helped someone so I want to share with others what I've learned about pilates, yoga, passion, anger, joy, fulfillment, and the path to discovery. I want to teach.
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