Equivalencies:Days 2 and 3

The word I am struggling with today goes beyond the dance studio: It's
the word and the idea of "equivalence."

We use equivalent to suggest that two separate and often very
different things are the same, or, at least, of equal value. But the
very insistence on equivalence underscores the potential for the thing
that is being compared to be somehow less than the original. Rather
than "same but different," it's more "different but same." My mind
jumps to "separate but equal."

I think disableds live with a lot of separate but equal. You know the
accessible entrance round the back, by the trash cans. The separate
and ineffective transit systems, because the mass transit is
inaccessible. I think of our lives as having a parallel track, one
which we and only we are able to see. On the good side, this parallel
track is the place of disability history and culture. On the less
appealing side, it is the place of isolation and frustration with a
world of environmental and attitudinal barriers. And somewhere in
there, I hear my voice, artificially bright and cheery -- I'm striving
for lightness and neutrality, but what I really want to say is
unprintable -- saying, "No, don't worry. I've got it. I just have to
do it differently, in my own way." I'm trying to convince the person
in front of me that what I am doing is valid and effective for me.
"No, honestly, I don't need your help. Thank you, though."

The difficult "equivalent" of the past couple of days arose in
technique class. Not every class can be about expanding and exploring
movement ranges and possibilities and ideas and different bodies.
There are some contexts in which that absolutely should be the case,
in which it would be unforgivable for this not to be the case. And
there are others in which you simply have to assimilate and go.
Assimilate means not seeking the organic wheeled version -- the
version that would be a neutral equivalent; it means picking in a
split second something to work with that approximates what I see, in
order to reproduce in my body the same phrase everyone else is doing.
I can't succeed at this game, of course. Nothing I can do will ever
look the same. So, I can only do what I am able to do. And I exist
permanently in a space of catch-up. In this space, my equivalent is
definitely different and certainly not the same. It is so separate
that it can't be equal.

Question: if I had the courage of my convictions, I would create the
wheeled version. I wouldn't feel like I was achieving unison, but I
would have an organic and authentic (in so far as it is genuine to my
body) piece of movement. I would be able to dance instead of feeling
fake. What would it take for me to do that? Why don't I do this now?

The pleasurable equivalent came from sourcing movement in words.
These are my words: "I am close to falling. I am far from home." What
would your dances to these words look like? How do the words move
you?

I'm going to leave it there, not because I think the relationship
between words and movement is unproblematic, but because it is late.
We worked for 15 hours today, and tomorrow is going to be equally
hard.