#thought some of you might appreciate thisss. i love the way she communicates

[eileenleahy]

Donna Allegra, "Dance Africa" in the Fall 1985 issue of the Salsa Soul Gayzette

[Text under cut]

I started out to review Dance Africa, but here's what is really on my mind.

I'm a dancer and drum woman who consciously identifies with and chooses to frame myself on an African base, a spiritual woman who is nurtured and sustained by African music and dance; a channel for that divine energy from the holy on high to divine on earth when I dance and drum, and so, the 8th annual Brooklyn Academy of Music festival of African American dance and music companies was immensely satisfying to me. For years now, Dance Africa has been one of the high water marks in cultural events during the year for me, just as Kwanzaa and the women's music festivals are.

I'm also a dread locks woman, not modeled on the Rastafarian woman, but taking after the dyke sisterhood who also choose to be about Africa, sown in the soil of African- American woman strength. Its true that the Rastafarian style has been an influence, but I'm a dread woman raised to hold her own ground, not black-mailed to wälk second place behind a man with my life force sustaining his program but keeping silent with the seeds of my concerns underground.

After years of taking my lesbian self to the all too- often homophobic stomping grounds of African dance and drum classes, I am only now starting to feel less alone and isolated as a dyke. As much as there are men who loudly proclaim that women should not drum at all and certainly shouldn't play the djimbe drum between their legs, and men who sneer at faggots, there are more and more women who are taking to the drum and gay men are apparent in most of the companies.

Judging from the flambuoyant priests choreographed in the performance of Arthur Hall's Dance assemble from Philadelphia for Dance Africa, I got the revelation that it is probably traditional for gay men, and quite likely, lesbians too, to take to the ranks of the priesthood. Gay people may very well have been the spiritual channels, unacknowledged and often reviled of African communities.

Dyke women weren't so apparent and visible to me though a sister who drums is always a likely candidate in my book. It is a fact that lesbian women lead the ranks of women drummers. Have we always been undercover, yet everywhere?

On the Dance Africa stage at BAM, the Muntu company did some steps from what was once a women's martial dance called saa. My West African dance teacher once told me saa originated as a women's secret society dance. The women made up the rhythm, played the drum and marched it from Guinea to Mali and back again to demonstrate that they were just as strong as men, if not stronger. It was done to protest what we today deride as "macho." The African brothers were getting too arrogant and the women did saa to show their martial aspect and strength. Saa steps are strenuous and demanding to do even across the dance class floor and to take it from Guinea to Mali and back again is no mean feat.

Like so many inventions, the men peeped saa and took it to use for themselves, and now both sexes do saa. Tradition grows and changes like that. I don't say men shouldn't dance saa. I take a lesson from their bad behavior when they try to deny me the drum, claiming exclusive rights by citing tradition Mine is not a tit for tat stance. I just say to women to know how saa began, for our own strength and salvation, as our sisters did before us.

In traditional African dance folklore, there are generally steps that men are said to do and steps that women are said to do, though in the circle of solos, each sex can partake of the other's movement. Much African American choreography working with traditional folklore will generally show the ensemble of women doing one thing and the men doing another set of movement while in another company, the women will be given the very step the men had been given. While I frankly like to see the sexes separate, such choreography is generally in the service of reverberating old limiting and binding divisions.

It's not surprising that we reject some of the European American oppressive and poisonous ways of life, but retain and develop others. It is equally true that patriarchal attitudes were part of many African cultures, and these I reject just as wholeheartedly. Just cause its traditional doesn't make it right. Life, to me, is about evolving, growing and changing for the better as times change and we develop as African people The lindy hop, the jerk, the twist and electronic boogie are all part of the continuing spectrum of African dance tradition, just as are the Haitian, Brazilian, Caribbean and countless other dance folklores.

Despite my serious criticism of the sexism currently fashionable in the folkloric dance and drum community, the overwhelming testimony I would give of BAM's Dance Africa was one of extreme joy, happiness, peace, rejuvenation and self- affirmation. I am a part of the community of African dancers and drummers and I'm queer.

I'm not as open about my gayness because I fear the criticism and rejection of a loud few, but I think most of the folk wouldn't care, do accept me, would even shrug their shoulders, and probably know I'm gay anyway. We're in class together to dance and commune spiritually.

It has been my experience that people who judge and criticize others do so out of bad feelings for themselves. They have the all too human need to feel superior, and pointing the finger at others is a destructive expression of that human weakness. The more I hear men band together by laughing about "faggots," the more I am convinced of this. These men have nothing sure inside themselves to base their identity on, so they define themselves by what they are not. They're not (they hope) gay, they're not women. They are threatened and scared: if women can drum, how do they stand as men? If women wear pants, how can they distinguish the maleness? That, it seems to me, is their fear: not knowing who they are apart from what they can do that women cannot.

American men base their manhood on dick size, how much money they make, the cars they drive and the women they are seen with. That makes for a pretty shaky ground for holding up an identity. In the African dance and drum community, manhood often takes the form of traditional male clothing, drum playing, and oppressing women. Rather than focusing on and confining self-esteem to one's skill or just one's joy at being a part of the music, the defining point is that boys do this and girls don't.

Well, not anymore, fellas. I dream of a women's djimbe orchestra (that's a West African drum formation with djimbe and songbe drums). Sisters are now playing congas, bells, and chekeres in the Haitian, Brazilian, Latin and Cuban traditions; but I long for sisters to play more of the West African musics - the Senegambia, Guinea and Nigerian folklore; to play the djimbe drum, songbe, junjun and African bells. Soon come, this I know, just as when soonoo, lamban, koukou, mandgiani, wolofsodon, sabar, jola, lenjen, sepa and saa will be dances and rhythms as familiar to the general public as samba, guanguanco, yanvalou and the hustle.

[c-atm]

Prepared?

Steven couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down his eyes. He arrived too late. Too late to protect her...Thank goodness for Garnet, future vision and Lion. She would've be in worse shape than she currently is without them. Still, torn clothing, the bruised and sliced cheek and eye, the bloody and burnt gashes on her torso, inner thighs and chest, smaller ones littered all over her body, her left arm cauterized from the shoulder and her haggard breathing. It was too much to take in.

Still he allowed some pride to seep in. By the time he and the gems appeared at her now trashed campsite, there were a number of mutant fusions gems poofed at her feet and ready to be bubbled. As for Connie, she stood ready to fight..to defend the camp. Never dropping her shaking blade, even greeted them with a pain-filled and tear stricken yet brilliant smile.

He already knew what she was going to say but he quickly and gently silenced her. There was no way in hell he was going to let her apologize and beat herself up for defending the lives here, successfully at that.. His main objective was three fold. Get Connie to the fountain for recovery. find who or whatever did this. Make sure they can’t do it anymore.

“ How many are left?” Steven urgency in his voice made his question almost come off as a command. Connie didn’t take no offense though, she can imagine how much it pained him to see one of his loved ones in her currfent condition

“Just one...they’re smart” Her voice started to break up with her facade of strength. She coughed harshly, overwhelmed with sadness and disgust before she started to sobbed “ They killed three councillors, sent the smaller and lesser ones to overcome them, swarm them and tear them like animals.” She coughed up a bit of blood and dropped to her knees still sobbing.

Seeing her breakdown like this fueled him with an unknown rage, he looked at the gems and non-verbally told them to find the gem. As soon as they left searching in different direction lion heard a shuffling in the trees. Getting on in front of his master and mistress, the mighty beast released a supersonic roar, clearing quite a piece of land bear and creating bit of a dirt cloud..

A quiet ‘fwwth!” was heard from said cloud as a red hot spike flew towards the trio. Before Steven could respond, Connie with her last bit of strength knocked it back toward which it came, before collapsing out of fatigue,and pain. Steven lifted Connie up onto Lion gently. She tried to refuse stating she could help still, which brought a small smile to his face. Her spirit was his inspiration even now.

“Get her to the fountain now.”

Lion didn’t need any coaxing as he opened up the portal and leaped through. He watched them go before balling up his fist, his eyes cold as ice and harder than any diamond. He turned to see the creature walking from the cloud, a stalker smile on its face...

Thin and jagged mass, about the size of garnet, looked like a green, red and purple polygon humanoid with two legs and arms. It’s gem was a surprisingly perfect oval but was damaged with a noticeable crack. From what he could tell it had one rectangular eye, a perfectly formed nose and a mouth. It had claws in sets of three with blood on them and piece of Connie’s camp uniform in its ‘right hand’. A set of two talons on each ‘foot’

“Any other time I might have thought you were cool looking, like a boss from a game.” Steven taunted, as he stood waiting.

“Thisss isss no a game diamond bearer. Thisss isss a hunt and you just took my candidate for assimilating and population.”

Steven was a little put off by the fact that this mutant can talk, didn’t help that its voice sounded like it was slithering..but neither of that matter..No, what matter was this thing attacked his Connie...with intent to use her for 'population'?... Steven was sure he heard wrong.

“What do you mean..?”

The mutant smirked before speaking. “It assss I sssworned, to bring ssstrong humans and gemssss to populate usss through assimilation and artificial breeding. But now none of it matters since your here..Her time will come, regardlesssss.”

As the thing was speaking he saw the gems heading back and gave them a look to stand down for now.

”You swore huh..Means there someone in control and you’re a soldier” .Steven smirked abit. “ And you guys know about us? Me, Connie, the Crystal gems and such?”

The thing smiled as it claws started to burn red hot “What of it Diamond bearer?”

The mutant charged forward claws ready to burn the young hybrid in half only to stop mid run; feeling an extremely uncomfortable, drill-like sensation through its body before being blown back a few feet and onto the ground. The mutant looked up and saw Steven walking towards it, his hands encased with bubbles with spinning spikes. It was literally it only thing it could do, it’s gem cracked to a near shattering, from Steven’s blow..it couldn’t even close it’s drill wounds..

“You know, if your boss or whoever knows about us..then there is no need to keep you around...So Ms.jagged.” His cold tone dropped even lower and in his eyes shined with malice as he stood over the now horrified gem. “For harming innocent humans..For killing innocent humans”

Steven lifted his fist, the spin on the spike getting faster and faster creating sparks of energy. “FOR HAVING THE AUDACITY TO EVEN THINK OF ATTACKING MY CONNIE! YOU’RE PREPARED FOR WHATS NEXT, RIGHT!?”

The mutant couldn’t respond, the roar of Steven scaring it straight to it’s very essence mustering what little energy it had it spoke lightly. “n-GUUUUUUUAAAAAHHGHGGGHGAAAhhhhh!”

Steven spinning fist interrupted the response, turning it to horrifying gurgled scream as the drills burned, twisted, ripped, and chewed the mouth of the hard light construct. Steven didn’t stop there,The rectangular eye was next, it’s nose after that, it’s limbs followed then he just started to wail on it. Each strike more nightmarish than the last, the scraping and sawing sounds, the mutants gargled attempts at screaming and Steven unrelenting stare as he worked.

It lasted all but 45 seconds before the monster finally poofed. He looked at the gem and was so tempted to shatter, but it did had information he reasoned and decided to bubble it without healing it. Sending it back to the temple with the others.

The crystal gems while cautious walked up to him, Pearl was the first to speak.

“Steven, are you-

“NO!”

His rage was still there but subsided when he realized it was Pearl. He looked forlorn and broken “ I’m sorry for that..Just, I’m not gonna be ok, not to until I see Connie is back on her feet.”

Pearl gave him a reassuring smile “Steven, we understand. No one gonna fault your actions or your emotions.”

Steven looked around and saw that they were all in agreement with Pearl; he gave them a small smile in return “I appreciate that…”

“Steven”

The boy turned to pearl as she presented the corpses of the brave councillors who fought with Connie, two women and a man. They wore torn, scarred and missing pieces of meat but they would be ok. Steven smirked to himself as the tears started to run. It took only a few minutes for the corpses to turn pink, missing parts grown back and was waking up like it was all a dream.

It was at this time that Lion decided to return. Steven didn’t hesitate to get the beast to bring him to the fountain, leaving the gems to explain what happened...Not before thanking the councilors for their part in the battle either.

Steven arrived at the fountain and quickly ran towards his berry, who was relaxing neck deep in the pond back facing toward him. Before the teenager could even register what was happening, Steven was holding her in most secure and loving hold she ever received.

She was a bit nervous and embarrassed due to being in only her sporty undergarments and having scars from the recent healing.

That was until she felt the trembling, heard the apologetic and thankful whispering and felt his tears running down her face. It was too much not hold him back with BOTH her healed right arm and new PINK left arm and do the same.

“I almost lost you.”

“I’m here because of you.”

His grip tightened around her frame. “You could have died.”

“I know...i’m sorry.”

“You were so valorous”

She rubbed his back and gently ran her hands through his hair. “ I tried. I couldn’t let them down. Couldn’t let you down.”

“You never do. Why didn’t you call us?”

“You just had a crisis with Spinel. I wanted you to rest...Didn’t expect it to go south that bad. That and I really couldn’t anyway, they targeted communication.”

He moved his face to her shoulder, lips brushing her skin as he spoke. “I am getting you a communicator and a tracker, so i can always find you.”

Connie giggled in spite of her tears “Deal...I was so scared Steven.”

“Hard to tell with how fearless you seemed..You definitely cleaned up house, Berry.”

“They weren’t hard. Though they did get some licks off..Fast buggers. Is the camp OK? “

Steven kissed the top of her forehead, hearing the worry in her voice “ Yes, a little trashed but everyone is alive...though I had to resurrect the three who helped you.”

“Damn it.”

Steven could feel her shaking as her tears ran down. “They’re alive, not in the best of ways but they are alive..”

Connie could only nod to Stevens voice. It was better than nothing. ” I got a new arm, It seems."

“I see, it’s fluorescent and a bit illuminating. ”

“That it is...It feels..off and not-off. If you can understand where I’m going with this..”

“Nope..We’ll discover you new limb together. It fits you though.”

Connie chuckled before giving his temple a small kiss.“Yeah.."

“I...Went off on that gem mutant. Think I’ve might have gave the gems. nightmares.”

"It might have given every camper and counselor nightmares and traumas.”

“I’ll guard your dreams, Nini. Just say the word.”

“We’ll guard each other, both in the dream and in the waking world.. I refuse you to lose sleep over me.”

“I already do..Though it’s usually over things like about how much I adore you.”

“Sssttteven..that’s not fair saying something like that now “ Connie hid her face in his shoulder so he couldn’t see her heated face. Ignoring the feeling that she was now pressing upon him in her current state of undress.

Steven just held her tighter picking her up slightly as he did, basking in her touch, sound and smell. “ I love you Connie. And happy you’re alive to hear me say it So you better be prepared for me telling you everyday from now on..”

She lifted her head up off his shoulder and looked him adoringly before giving sweet and tender kiss which he returned. She placed her forehead to his, smiling that ever brilliant smile of hers. "I’m happy I can hear it.. I love you too Biscuit. You better prepare yourself because I love as hard as I fight. ”

“As do I Connie, as do I.”