Page 4 of Room One Hundred and Four: Shock and Awe

A few months after school started, a friend asked me to join her for a class she was taking. It changed my entire life. She was taking a burlesque class for fun as she wanted to give her boyfriend at the time a present. No, she didn’t tell me where we were going at first, which was probably a good thing.

If I hadn’t gone with her, I don’t know what would have happened to me. Taking the class gave me a way to connect with my body. After the first class, I kept going. I needed to.

The more classes I took, the better I felt about myself and the less hate I harbored for my body.

Even though we were learning burlesque, it wasn’t about sex or even teasing men. It was about being okay with taking up space and being okay with finding beauty in myself and in my body.

I never told my parents about the class, but they knew something was going on. I wasn’t willing to listen to their bullshit as much as I was before. I changed the subject whenever they brought up finding the perfect husband for me. Avoidance became second nature to me.

But I wasn’t avoiding my own hopes and dreams anymore; I was putting off theirs and their beliefs.

The woman teaching the classes, Alora, and I became close friends before she offered me a job in her studio. I was shocked at first, but she just gave me a soft smile and told me, “You’re the best student I’ve ever had. Women come in here all the time and their only goal is to learn how to tease their man. There’s nothing wrong with that, but it’s clear from watching the way you glow when you dance that your purpose here is much deeper.”

Tears stung the back of my eyes with her words. Even though we chatted, I had never shared with her about my past or the vile words my parents planted in the dark corners of my mind.

Having burlesque gave me the courage to stand up to my parents when they tried to get me to move out of the dorms and back home with them after my freshman year. That conversation was scary and painful. There was no one to stand at my side to give me strength, but I found that I had it within me all on my own.

Dad was furious, his face turning bright red with anger, “We can’t protect you and your innocence if you aren’t under our roof. We had to allow you to live on campus because we had no other choice,” he insisted.

“I’ve gotten used to living in the dorms,” I hedged, trying not to be too combative or confrontational.

That was the wrong approach. I could almost see the steam shooting out of Dad’s ears as Mom sat there without saying a word while she worried her hands. She never said anything. She never stood up for me or my younger sister. She never stood up for herself.

It saddened me and as I looked for her, I saw the future that they wanted to lay out in front of me, the future I would have if I allowed them to force me down their path. My stomach turned and roiled at the knowledge that I would have no voice. No home where I felt complete and safe. No hope.

“You will come home,” Dad shouted at me, trying to bend me to his will. He wanted my compliance, and there was never a thought in his mind as to how he went about gaining it; there never really was, but I was too blind to fully see it before that conversation. “You will stay here. I’ll allow you to continue your studies, but before graduation, I’ll choose a man from church and allow him to court you.”

I swallowed down the bile threatening my throat as I shook my head slowly. I was afraid to defy him. Listening to my parents, my father really, was ingrained in me right alongside the notion of my body being made from sin as a lure of the Devil himself.

“I won’t,” I croaked out, forcing the words to fruition from sheer will. “I can’t,” I tried to change tactics slightly as the vein in his forehead started to pulse with vexation and annoyance. “There are study groups, extra credit and my work study program,” I reminded him.

I didn’t have a car and taking public transit wouldn’t be easy with my varied schedule. Living on campus was the right thing for me, on more than one level.

He stopped the way he was pacing in front of me, his entire body stilling to the point that I wasn’t sure if he was even breathing anymore. The way he turned toward me slowly had fear trickling down my spine. Though he’d never been physically violent before, I could see him justifying the action with scripture.

“Is this because you have some boy you’re seeing?” The step he took in my direction was menacing. “Have you given yourself away like some Jezebel?” I shook my head rapidly, holding back the tears threatening to spill over my lashes. When I looked toward Mom again, she was looking at me with a mixture of fear and hatred in her eyes and I had no idea why. “You better still be pure, Navy,” there was a clear warning in his words.

“I haven’t been spending time with any males outside of having them in my classes with me. I’m not friends with any and I haven’t been alone with any,” I swore, the conviction of truth coloring my words. I could only hope they would hear it. “You know my dorm is all female. Men aren’t even allowed except in common areas and never at night.”

That was the only reason they had allowed me to live in the dorms. It didn’t matter to them that I had a full scholarship, and they weren’t paying for my education. It didn’t matter to them that I could do so much more with an education than hang on the arm of a man and pop out babies.

Dad’s eyes narrowed at me, and he spit out, “You will come home and if I find out that you’ve opened your legs and lured a man in with the sin of your body, you will know real punishment.”

That was the last time I entered their home. I didn’t need their support anymore, especially not while I was working for Alora. School was paid for, and my grades were great. Then when Alora offered me some performing jobs, I didn’t really have to worry about anything.

My parents tried to stay in contact with me and berate me to move back home, but I never budged; not even after I graduated. It didn’t matter what they threw at me. I wasn’t going to give my power back to them, and I definitely never stepped foot back into their church.

Why would I? The hatred I had to unlearn was suffocating.

A piercing whistle coming from the back of the seated men in front of me pulls me out of my thoughts about my parents and my past. If the lights were fully on instead of the dim colorful lights bathing me, they’d be able to see my face and neck turning red.

Normally when I’m dancing, I’m in the moment and focused on the performance. Letting thoughts of my parents into the forefront of my mind is a painful distraction I don’t need or want. They haven’t let up on their mission to get me married off or back in the church, but I’ve been able to avoid them and push them off for years now.

It feels like my time is running out and if they ever found out about my dancing or the job I have at Alora’s studio, I have no idea what they would do.

As I turn and drop the cape from around me, the lights go off, and I bend to pick up the giant feather fans I put on the edge of the stage when I came into the room. The lights are brighter when they turn back on to allow the audience to see more, but they’re still soft.

The way the fans flutter around me as I cover my body and start to move to the next song on my playlist. The bass is hotter in this one, the seduction felt through the music as much as what they can’t see of me. I know my legs are sparkling as I turn slowly, the small crystals in the netting catching bits of light.

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