Love=Love

For anyone who may not know, Duke’s major LGBT advocacy campaign is “Love=Love.” Every year on National Coming Out Day, the plaza is filled with people trying to get one of the beautiful T-shirts with the original print of equality. These shirts are worn throughout the entire year, all over campus by all sorts of people. Most people at Duke are familiar with Love=Love. I love the shirts, the concept, the phrasing, all of it. So naturally, I wanted to get in on it. I wanted to help promote this way of thinking.

As someone who deeply appreciates the arts and wants to make a life/living in them, the first idea I explored was an artistic one. Some time ago, the thought struck me that I would have the opportunity to make a proposal for the annual Defining Movement Showcase (DefMo Showcase). I was hopeful that this organization I loved so much would bring light to this issue in a whole new way. First of all, I knew DefMo would be willing to at least consider it because open-mindedness is a membership requisite. Second of all, this talented, passionate and diverse group is widely recognized as kickass; I knew if my proposal went through that plenty of people would get to see it at the show. In the end, it did go through and I had all Winter Break to get started with my choreography. My submission to DefMo described a lyrical hip-hop piece, and I had chosen the song “No One” by Alicia Keys. The lyrics, the music, Alicia’s voice – all perfect.

When it came down to rehearse, though, I was nervous. All the time. Sometimes the pressure made remembering my own choreography difficult. Presenting something with so much personal meaning, something so relevant to Duke right now, meant I had to design and place each movement with the utmost care. This deserved as much attention as I could give, and I was going to pay that attention. As far as developing the choreography and the dancers’ grasp, this wasn’t much of a problem. They’re talented and committed, so that went smoothly. Still, with four straight-identified dancers, I was unsure of whether or not the dramatic component would come across. On the first day I explained to them the plotline and the intent behind my idea in general terms, so as to let them express their own interpretation freely. When performers are told exactly what to do, it can compromise sincerity. After a while, it had come to a point where the freedom of expression needed more guidance. All four dancers asked me one day to clarify my personal investment, where I saw this at Duke and what I wanted this to do. What did I want them to do? They understood the dance – two interracial same-sex couples almost forced apart and destroyed by hateful bigots are able to finally be together – but it needed life breathed into it. I told them of the hardship I faced prior to coming to Duke, of the difficulty others have here at Duke and of specific examples of the issues we meant to address in this piece. We ended up having a long and thoughtful conversation about the Duke closet, haters on campus and how we could maximize this performance. I wanted to empower the people who supported this movement and change the minds of those who opposed it. It’s a big feat, but I needed to aim high.

As Showcase drew closer and closer, I became more and more nervous. What if my piece doesn’t measure up to past Showcases? What if we get too nervous to do this right? What if the audience isn’t ready for it? With enough reassurance, the moments just before performing silenced these worries. Everyone in DefMo liked the dance when they saw it at dress rehearsal. My dancers and I know how to perform. And most importantly, this piece is not for anyone’s entertainment or comfort, but to stimulate thought and conversation. We got on that stage and we danced from our hearts. That may not make sense to many people reading this, but when you dance not for “fun,” but for expression…it comes from a different place. We put our very selves into that performance. Each movement had energy and feeling behind it, sharing with everyone our passion for a social injustice they needed to recognize. When the song had come to an end and we were at the edge of the stage, looking out into the audience with defiant eyes, proudly bearing the vibrant colors of Love=Love t-shirts on our chests, something happened. As the lights began to fade and we tried to catch our breath, the stillness cracked. They erupted into applause. The screams and claps were more than I could have expected. I was overwhelmed. When we had finished the dance, I was sure I could hold back the tears that all the emotion brought with it. But that thunder. Those smiles and screams of appreciation brought down the dams and everything behind them spilled out. I went down the stairs backstage to the dressing rooms and turned around to wait for the other dancers. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, I cried. I could only thank them. I could say nothing else but “Thank you so much.” We held each other for a few moments and cried together. What we had just done was huge, for us. We all cared about this message, and we had never danced it like that before. My friends were wonderful. These are straight-identified people who held and danced with someone of the same gender onstage in front of 1,000 people, in order that it may send a message of understanding and acceptance. They did all I asked and more.

It was received so well. People told me how much they enjoyed Love=Love, how beautiful it was, how emotional it was and even how it had changed the minds of a few audience members. Yeah, I cried again. Duke is a fantastic school and the students here are, for the most part, open and progressive. Still, we need to move it along. All I had hoped for in this dance was that I could help the process, so the feeling that I had done just that was unbelievable. Duke is going places, and things are changing.