Sometimes, I am so confused by the world(s) of disability. The popular imagination makes it look so onesided -- a life of tragedy and difficulty. Lots of suffering and sadness interspersed with occasional rampant acts of over-achievement and the odd dollop of sappy sentiment. But mostly, we are imagined to live lives of tragedy, pain, isolation, and rejection. My reality is simultaneously a rejection of these ugly expressions of prejudice and a reckoning with some of the nuggets of truth.
Some video that keeps me moving. Crip Heard, Henry Herbert Heard, a double amputee dancer. I know very little about his life -- that these clips of a black disabled dancer even exist continues to amaze me. Unfortunately, the language surrounding him is that of sensation and inspiration. I am also intrigued that for the purposes of the first clip, he is defined as a "one-legged" dancer -- as if the amputation of his arm somehow didn't matter for the purpose of dance. (It affects his balance, of course).
There are no captions for any of the following clips -- they aren't mine, so I don't think I can add them. In the first, a viewer writes in asking the program host to find that "one-legged" dancer. The viewer describes herself as a "shut-in." She says that she knows that the host has given many "handicapped" people the opportunity to prove that they can "overcome their difficulties." The host finds him, and then, Henry Heard dances dedicating each dance to the viewer and describing what they are.
The text of the second clip is a little more obnoxious: Henry "Crip" Heard is described as a "sensation and inspiration."
Mr. Heard wasn't the only black disabled dancer of his time; Clayton "Peg Leg" Bates was a compatriot -- though I don't know how well or even *if* they knew each other. There's a lot more on the web for Mr. Bates. His athleticism is certainly eye-catching.
In the first section of the first dance, a voice says, "Don't look at me in sympathy; I'm glad that I'm this way. For I feel good; I'm knockin on wood, as long as I can say -- I makes life fantastix ... with hot gymnastics. I'm Peg Leg Bates, the one-legged dancin' man."
In the final clip, the announcer says that Mr. Bates made 19 appearances in 1951.
All of these clips demonstrate an uncomfortable exploitative gaze towards the dancers, but I find it hard to separate disability from race as the primary lens. The performers themselves seem to recognize that they have this role, and, like many from that era, they play it. All that aside, these are beautiful clips.
I think physical disability offers a creative opportunity in dance. Heard uses a crutch in the beginning as a prop. Bates animates his artificial leg so creatively that it didn't seem to make a difference he didn't have a knee to bend. So often people with disabilities are portrayed as being weak and less capable.
ReplyDeleteI've heard stories of artificial limbs designed to look real more than be helpful. Here we see a limb that's obviously false.
Of course it's hurtful to introduce these perfectly talented dancers as disabled dancers. No. They're dancers who happen to have disabilities. It's like they're charity cases. I imagine it would be hard to have people be surprised that you can function, that you have talent. I definitely see the exploitation you're talking about. It's almost like the people introducing the dancers are preparing the audience to see a freak show -- but of course it isn't a freak show at all.
This is great. I didn't know tap dancing still existed. I bet this footage is before the invention of internet video. I wonder where i get these days those kind of shoes.
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