A Lover AND a Fighter: Round 1

Today, I'll be starting a new sub-series of articles here on "Random SMOOVEness."  As most of you know, my hobby/second job/passion/addiction is salsa dancing.  Salsa allows me to express my creative and, to a small extent, romantic side.  However, there is a side of me that some of you may not know of.  Despite my normally gentle and non-aggressive nature, I'm a huge fan of Mixed Martial Arts.  I've been interested in various martial arts since I was just a kid, not to mention the fact that the sport and I share the same initials (my name is Myron Marquis Abernathy, in case you're wondering).   

Not only do I love watching MMA, I love training in two of the martial arts that are predominantly used within the sport: Muay Thai and Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu.  I've been doing it off and on (a lot more off than on) for a few years now, but only with any type of consistency for the past 5 months or so.  I've got a lot to learn in both disciplines, but I feel like I've been making a good bit of progress lately.  Since I rarely write about this part of my life, and the fact that I conveniently chose "Random" as the premise for my blog anyway, I'll be taking you as my readers along on my MMA journey from time to time.  In each entry, I'll be sharing with you all some not-so-random thoughts that I have during and shortly after my training sessions; somewhat of a "warrior's log" if you will.  So, without further adieu, here's my first entry of "A Lover AND a Fighter." 

*****

Saturday 


- Had two 5 minute rounds of rolling (sparring) at the end of class.  First round was against George, who was arguably the best guy in class.  Probably not to far from the level of the instructor.  I got tapped out via arm bar pretty quickly.  I defended as well as I could, but dude is pretty darn good.  I was pretty proud of myself for what happened for the remainder of the round.  I got mounted, but was actually able to sweep him off me.  He also took my back and went for a RNC (Rear-Naked Choke), but I was able to not just avoid getting tapped out, but escape as well.  As I tucked my chin to avoid giving him my neck, I replayed in my head some advice that he'd given me in a previous class about surviving chokes.  I made sure to time the holding of my breath with the pressure I felt from his arm, as good submission artists regulate their pressure, while inexperienced ones squeeze with all their might all at once and get tired.  I didn't get any submissions on him, but it was a big confidence booster to have been put in such a compromising position by such a high-level guy and not tap.

- Speaking of confidence boosters, I was lucky to get paired up with the new guy in class on the second round.  I was able to pull off 4 submissions on him, the most I'd had in any one class at that point.  I was able to get two RNCs, a North-South choke and a Triangle Choke (one of my favorites).  I took my success with a grain of salt, as this was dude's first class ever and he probably had no clue how to properly defend any of those submissions.  However, I can't say it didn't feel good to make someone tap, especially that many times.  I did take care to school him on what I did and how to better defend the moves next time.  Someone did the same for me on my first (second, third, fourth, so on...) time, so far be it from me to not pass what little bit of knowledge I had on to him.


Tuesday 


- I've been wanting to increase my cardio, so this was my third time in a few weeks going for two sessions in one day.  First up was Muay Thai.  Coach Chike had us do nothing but sparring the whole class.  I hadn't had a good sparring session in Muay Thai in quite some time, and I was excited to do it again.  However, I seemed to digress during the first round.  I kept turning my head when attacked, which is something you never do.  You need to see what's coming at you so that you can defend each attack appropriately, which you can't do if you're not looking at your opponent.   Once I repented of my bad habit, things got better.

- Second round was against Jake, the head BJJ instructor on Saturdays. I felt a bit of "Aiight, let's get it!" mixed with a little "Oh snap...It's about to get REAL."  Jake definitely kicked my butt, but I left that round with my head up, as I was a lot more aggressive against him than I had been against my instructors in the past.  I landed some good shots, too.  Not as many as him, but enough to let him know I wasn't a pushover.

- Maybe it was because we all were dog-tired at that point, but the next 4 rounds seemed to slow down for me.  I was able to be a lot more calm and cerebral in my attacks.  I felt like I was able to react appropriately instead of just aimlessly throwing strikes and haphazardly covering up when attacked.

- I've discovered that people respect my jab.  It's fairly quick and stiff, and has a long range. (I have a 78" reach.  I'm 5'11, but most guys with that long of a reach are upwards of 6'2").  I landed it a lot more than I expected to.  I also realized that, more often than not, if I got hit, I was able to land a return jab just off the strength of my reach.  One guy even told me that all he was worried about from me was my jab, which is both a good and a bad thing.  Good in the sense that I know my jab is legit, but bad in that I wasn't making him fear any of my other strikes.  Which leads me to my next point...

- Since my jab works so well, I need to learn how to use it to set other things up.  I realized that I barely used my cross at all, mostly because I felt like it wouldn't land or even reach it's target for that matter.  Somehow, I need to learn how to close the distance as I punch so that my opponent isn't already out of the range of my cross when I get ready to throw it.  Until I nail that down, I've discovered I can follow up with a right leg kick with moderate success.  I also saw that, once I get my jab established, I can land jabs to the body and left head/body hooks as well, since they're worried about taking one to the face.  I need to develop some combos as well, instead of just being one or two shots and done.

- BJJ went pretty well that night.  After learning how to put a guy int a crucifix from side control, I ended up rolling with a new guy again.  It was his first time, but he had a wrestling background and was at least 10-15 lbs. heavier I think.  I didn't get tapped out at all and was able to pull off two arm triangle chokes from within my own guard (and this was from only having seen it diagrammed in a BJJ book), a RNC, and a reverse triangle choke from side control (fast fwd to 5:00 in the video).  However, I realized that I need to work on my mount.  I was able to easily get a mount on him due to his lack of experience and my long, flexible legs, but I still have to work on using my weight and balance properly once I get there.  I found that I'm getting swept out of my mount too easily.  All things considered, I feel myself making some progress on my ground game.

The Ephesians 5 Man and The "S" Word

Special shout-outs to Quentin McCall, Rachelle Miller, Steven J. Dixon, and Michelle Hammond for the inspiration on this entry.

There is a word in the English language that is regarded with much disdain and contempt, especially in the independent culture of America. This word often leaves a nasty taste in the mouths of many. Oh, and don’t dare mention this word around any women, lest you have a death wish. If you haven’t already figured out what this word is, it is submission.

The concept of submission has always had a negative connotation to it. Most people associate it with weakness. A person who submits is often considered to not be equal to the person that is being submitted to. “Losing”, “giving up” and “surrendering” are also associated with submission. Considering all of this, you probably wouldn’t be surprised if someone scoffed at you (and that’s probably the mildest of reactions) for even suggesting submission, regardless of the reason.

I mentioned earlier that this topic is a particularly sensitive one for women. For ages, women have been fed the idea that wives should submit to their husbands. This concept originated in the Bible, in Ephesians 5:22-30. I explained in a previous blog entry that many people – both male and female, religious and non-religious – have misunderstood this passage. This misunderstanding has unfortunately led to a severe abuse of this scripture. Some take this scripture to mean that husbands are to enjoy a dictatorship position in their marriages, ruling over their wives with an iron fist, and that the wives are to become doormats, blindly obeying everything that their husbands command. Some have even misinterpreted this to mean that all women should submit to all men.

These ideas could not be any further from the truth. While they are very extreme examples of what this passage does not mean, they go to show that many people just don’t have a firm grasp on what God is trying to communicate to us there. I will refrain from going any deeper into what this passage really does mean for women, as that would be beating a horse that has long since passed away. Anything I could say on that subject can be better explained by pointing you to two very Biblical and practical articles I’ve read, "Submission 101" and "Respect".

Now that I’ve gotten that out the way, I want to focus on a portion of this scripture that I feel has been in every way neglected. The writer of Ephesians chose to address the wives first for some reason. I get the vibe that people stop reading after verse 24. Perhaps the male readers are so happy about it that they figure it couldn’t get any better, and the ladies are so appalled by those three verses that they just can’t get past them. At any rate, verses 25-30 are ignored by most. I find it ironic that there is much more time spent addressing the husband’s part in this, yet if you mentioned Ephesians 5 to anyone, the phrase “wives submit to your husbands” is the only thing closely associated.

Let’s take a few moments to break down what God is saying (yes, my conviction is that GOD is speaking through the Bible. That’s fine if you don’t agree. Maybe we’ll argue about that on another blog entry, but not this one. #SorryImNotSorry) to the husbands in verses 25-30:

²⁵ Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her ²⁶ to make her holy, cleansing^[a] her by the washing with water through the word, ²⁷ and to present her to himself as a radiant church, without stain or wrinkle or any other blemish, but holy and blameless. ²⁸ In this same way, husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. ²⁹ After all, no one ever hated their own body, but they feed and care for their body, just as Christ does the church— ³⁰ for we are members of his body.

Basically, God is calling for Husbands to love their wives in the same way that they love themselves. Whatever a Husband would do for himself, he must do for his wife, and whatever he would not do or allow to happen to himself, the same goes for his wife as well. The husband is putting his wife’s needs before his own. A husband is also required to present his wife to God as holy and blameless, without any stain, wrinkle, blemish or defect. A husband is ultimately responsible for his wife and her well-being: physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

I know I said we’d leave the wives’ role alone, but it’s important that we take a quick glance back to verses 22-24. Notice that God is speaking to the wives, telling them to submit to their husbands. God does not speak to the husbands, saying “your wives should submit to you.” If we go back to the husbands’ portion, we’ll also notice that it says nothing about husbands ruling over their wives, commanding them, or telling them what to do. God instructs the husbands only on the things listed because he knows that a woman will submit to a man if she sees that he is responsible, that she can trust him and his leadership, and that she can ultimately respect him. If a man loves his wife as himself as laid out in the scriptures, he has all of this covered. He will never have to bring up verses 22-24 to his wife. In the words of one of my favorite relationship bloggers, “If you have to tell your woman to submit to you, then you are doing something wrong.”

I can imagine that loving another human being as yourself and presenting her as stainless and blameless before God is a feat much more easily said than done, but I have a firm belief that it is possible and that it works, because I trust God and his Word. Now, I have never been married before, so take that with a handful of salt or two if you find it necessary. However, there is a particular area of my life that I feel gives me at least a small taste of what married life may be like.

If you know me at all, whether through this blog or in person, you know thatI have this uncanny ability to relate just about anything to dancing. This is especially the case with relationships and, more specifically, marriage. In partner dancing, the man leads and the woman follows. Yes, the man is more or less in charge and tells the woman what to do, but it goes deeper than that. The man is in charge more so in the sense that he is responsible for two things: 1) making the lady look good and 2) protecting her.

It is often said that, in partner dancing, the man is the frame and the woman is the picture. The man should not be concerned with his own image on the dance floor, but with presenting the woman, putting her radiance and beauty on display. If there are any mistakes on the woman’s part, whether it is her technique or the inevitable accident, it is the man’s duty to cover it up and make it appear that there were no mistakes. If the woman is far less skilled than the man, he may dance slightly above her head in order to challenge her, but for the most part, he dances on her level for the purpose of making sure she is comfortable, making it appear that she knows what she’s doing, even if she really doesn’t. When a man focuses on making his partner look good, he in turn looks good himself. However, if he is only concerned about his own performance and neglects his partner, he makes them both look bad.

A lead in partner dancing is also charged with playing traffic cop. He has to make sure that he performs his moves in a way that will not put her in harms way or make her uncomfortable. He also has to watch out for others, making sure that they do not bump into him or his partner. A good lead protects his partner at all costs and makes sure that his partner does not have to worry about anything else but being one with him as he is being one with the music, and dancing to her heart's content.

While I am a firm believer that there is a such thing as a bad follower in partner dancing, a lead is better off assuming that anything that goes wrong is his fault. Even if it is a situation where a botched move really is the woman's fault, a good lead always has the mentality that "if she didn't get it, there's something I could have done better." A man should lead a move well enough that any woman who is allowing herself to be lead can follow it. If I, as a lead, have to verbally tell my partner what she was supposed to have done, then I didn't lead it correctly.

My nine years of partner dancing experience has taught me much in the area of leading, both in dancing salsa specifically and in life. The lessons I've learned there have helped me understand what God is really asking of husbands in marriages, and of me once I have found my future wife. I hope that what I've shared here has shed a bit more light on this controversial matter, and that the men reading this will join me in striving to become "Ephesians 5" men.

The "Requests" Of Your Heart

Psalm 37:4-6

4 Take delight in the LORD,

and he will give you the desires of your heart.

5 Commit your way to the LORD;

trust in him and he will do this:

6 He will make your righteous reward shine like the dawn,

your vindication like the noonday sun.

The above passage is the first passage of scripture in the Bible that I ever memorized. A trusted friend of mine shared it with me to encourage me about a particular situation in my life. That’s a long story for another blog entry, but let’s just say I’ve learned that there’s a reason why “desires of your heart” comes after “take delight in the Lord”.

One thing I love about the Bible is that, you can read a passage numerous times and still never cease to get something new out of it. It reminds me of listening to a song or watching a movie for the ‘hundred-teenth time and catching something I didn’t catch before, or making a new connection to something that I had experienced in my life since the last time. The Bible just has this strange ability to continue to be relevant as we continue to live our lives.

Earlier this year, one of the older gentlemen in my Church shared this scripture with us as he was doing the welcome one Sunday morning. The majority of us had heard or read it many times before, but he pointed out something that added a bit more depth to it for me than before. He brought our attention to the word “desires” at the end of verse 4. He explained that the original Hebrew word is “Mish’alah”. While “desire” is definitely one of the definitions of the word, it is only the third definition, coming after “request” and “petition.” When you replace “desires” in verse 4 with “requests” or “petitions”, this verse gets a little heavier. To make a request or petition involves making a desire known.

We all have desires, but our desires are not always spoken about or acted upon. Sometimes we feel like our desires are unrealistic or that we otherwise just won’t get what we ask for. Maybe we feel like the favor we’d ask for will be too much of a burden. Or maybe we don’t have faith that the person we ask can fulfill the request. For whatever reason, we don’t always speak up about what we want.

However, it is not just enough for us to have desires. Got wants us to ask for what we want. I can already hear some of you thinking, “But God is omnipotent and all-knowing. He already knows what I want. Why do I need to ask him for it?” While this may be true, that is not the point. Of course, we could obviously look to the old adage and know that “a closed mouth don’t get fed.” More importantly, God wants a genuine relationship with us. In a healthy relationship, the lines of communication are always open. Consider for a moment an Earthly relationship. The argument can be made (usually by women) that your significant other should know you so well that you don’t have to ask for what you want, but at the end of the day, assuming that your partner already knows what you want can potentially lead to confusion and hurt feelings. A failure to communicate your needs and desires to your S.O. can also come across as taking him or her for granted.

While we certainly don’t have to worry about God getting any signals crossed or incorrectly assuming our wants and needs, the point still remains that he wants to hear from us. Yes, he knows already, but he wants to hear it out of our own mouths. It is when we have personal, real dialogue with God –complete with wants, needs, desires, adorations, disappointments, even beefs with him– that we truly have a close relationship with him.

Getting back to the main point of Psalm 37:3-6, when we have delighted ourselves in him, God will grant us the requests of our hearts. He will reward us with the desires that we have laid before him with requests and petitions, not the desires that we have kept to ourselves. Learning this has made me realize that I just have not been communicating with God like I should. I thought about the parable of the persistent widow, where Jesus made the point that God brings about justice for his chosen ones when they cry out to him day and night. I also thought about several scriptures in the gospels that speak of “asking and receiving.” A common theme began to marinate in my head about consistent and persistent communication with God. I realized that maybe I haven’t been getting what I want from God because I just haven’t been talking to him and making requests of him enough. I’ve had to come to the conviction that, while I may not get everything that I want, I’d rather ask for what I want and not get it, than to not get what I want simply because I didn't ask for it. Regardless of if our prayers are selfless or selfish (he’ll guide our hearts to the right place), God wants to hear our desires, and more importantly, he just wants to hear from us!

The Stormy-Weather Fan

Looks like there's a storm a-brewin'.

E'rybody else has gone and found shelter,

but I reckon I'll keep on walkin'. It might just

get better eventually.

There's a nasty misconception about my beloved city of Atlanta. It is one of long standing, but it has recently been put on blast on the interwebs by an infamous (as of last Friday, anyway) journalist at ESPN, Rob Parker. Let him tell it, Atlanta has the worst sports fan base in America. The city is full of fair-weather fans who jump ship the moment things go ever-so-slightly not-North. The "fans" are too preoccupied with other things -- say, for instance, guzzlin' sweet-tea and eating Pork BBQ (I prefer ribs) -- to care about the fact that their sports teams have been performing at a respectable level as of late.

This sho is some good sweet tea. So good I don't

e'en care to look at the huge flatscreen above me

to check on the Falcons game...

I was all kinds of vexed at the foolishness I read in Mr. Parker's article, having the audacity to site piss-poor fandom as a reason why my beloved Falcons didn't deserve to win a playoff game, much less a Superbowl. I was enraged that anyone would talk about my city and my sports teams like that. However, I do have to admit that I'm angry partially because there is a substantial amount of truth to that article. There are indeed some fans here in Atlanta who have given him plenty of ammo for the extended clip he emptied on us. It hurts my soul as a fan to watch a Hawks game and hear the "fans" (I'm going to be using that term as loosely as bowels after collard greens) chanting "MVP" for the star player of the visiting team. I get tired of going to sports bars to watch Falcons games and seeing more people wearing jerseys and paraphernalia of the other team (I know this is due to Atlanta being a city full of transplants, but it annoys me no less). Despite my slight preference of football over basketball, I've been to much fewer Falcons games than Hawks or Braves games, but at the handful that I have been to, I am yet aggravated again by the fact that at kickoff, there are either an embarrassing amount of empty seats, and or too many visiting fans in the stands. I just can't stand the thought of the "fans" in this city allowing other fans to take over and embarrass our city when it comes to sports.

You may be able to tell already, but I pride myself on being true to my city's sports teams. I know, I know... I haven't been given much reason to up until the past decade or so, and even then some would argue that much with me. Thing is though, I believe in being a true fan --a stormy-weather fan, if you will -- not a fair-weather fan. I feel that if you're going to be a fan, be a fan at all times, not just when it it's convenient. All those people who became Heat fans once a certain Akron, Ohio native took his talents to South Beach? All the Clippers "fans" that we didn't even know existed that are coming out the woodwork now that CP3 is in LA? Y'all can miss me with that. I've been on the same bandwagons for years, even back when those bandwagons were in serious need of an appearance on "Pimp My Ride." (Is that show still on?)

Why did I choose to become a fan of Atlanta sports? It all got started about 20 years ago. It was 1992, and I had just moved back to GA after two years in NY. I was just starting to get into sports at the time and figured I should root for the local teams. It's stuck with me ever since. Hey, I guess I was naive back then and didn't now any better. And for some reason, I've always had a soft spot for the underdogs. Anyway, I figure, I've been on this trip so long, I'm not gonna turn my back now, or ever. When my Falcons and Hawks finally taste the gold, I want to say that I was there through the bad and sad times, not just when things were looking good.

Though not as bad as in the past, being a fan of Atlanta sports can definitely put your faith to the test. Not that I hadn't been through it before, but one such trial came on Sunday afternoon, "Wildcard Sunday". My Falcons suffered a humiliating loss to the New York Giants, only scoring 2 points the whole game, and none of them from the offense. They had flopped in the playoffs for the 3rd time in 4 years, once again failing to do any damage in the postseason. Once the game was over, to Twitter I went. Not to vent my frustration or curse my team as some other "fans" were known to do, but to make it known that I was still behind my team, 100%. I tweeted that, win or lose, Superbowl or 1st pick of the draft, I would support my team, and dared anyone to say something about it. Of course, someone did; a self-proclaimed Falcons fan "since before I was born" accused me of "sugar-coating" the inexcusable loss.

I explained to said fan that my saying that I'm dedicated to my team was not in any way synonymous with sweeping a loss under the rug. I also stated that regardless of the teams performance, I was not going to badmouth my team. During this argument, I thought about all the things that I've seen and heard other "fans" do that made me shake my head in disgust. Many of these things are what make me almost agree with what Rob Parker had to say about the A-T-L and its sports fans (don't get it twisted; I still think #RobParkerIsAnIdiot). Make no mistake, I am in no way the authority on fandom, nor do I proclaim to be the perfect fan, but here are just a few of my convictions that I hold to as a supporter of my teams; things that I am not going to do to my team...

First of all, I am not going to attack our players. Twitter has created a whole new dynamic to fandom, making players (and other celebrities, for that matter) accessible to the general public. This can be both a good and a bad thing. In regards to the latter, I've seen just how disrespectful, evil and nasty some people can be, people who claim to be "fans." This is in no way exclusive to Atlanta sports fans, but I've witnessed it here first hand. Now, I'm not saying that I've never had negative opinions of any players or coaches (a certain offensive coordinator comes to mind at the moment). What I am saying is that a true fan should not be blowing up our players mentions on Twitter, telling them how much they suck, cursing them or threatening them. I seriously doubt that a player would consider someone a fan if he received a nasty-gram in his Twitter mentions from them. What our teams and individual players need from us is support and encouragement. I'm not saying that we should coddle them and fake like everything is strawberries & cream when it's really not. By all means, please have your opinions of our teams, players and coaches; negative and positive. However, anything negative and disrespectful should be kept to ourselves and far, far away from our players' Twitter mentions. It is highly counter-productive to tear our players down. I compare such a thing to a man coming home to a nagging, ball-busting wife or a woman coming home to a demanding, belittling husband. Our teams and players don't need that kind of negativity from home.

Second, I am not going to give up on my team until all hope is lost. By this, I am referring to individual games and the current season. Whether watching the game with friends and other fans, or reading the Tweets of others, far too many times have I seen people just give up and go to pieces over one or two bad plays. Honestly, some people just need to keep their cool and stop being so dramatic. Football games are 60 minutes, basketball games are 48, baseball has 9 innings. Anything can happen in any given game, and no game is won or lost off one play. I mean, we all get frustrated and have our "what the heck were you thinking?!?!" moments during games, but come on... The reactions I see from some people lead me to believe they are expecting perfection for the entire duration of a game, and anything less dooms us to another loss. Sometimes I just have to make myself stay away from twitter during games. I'm allergic to needless drama, and some of the "fans" provide plenty of it. People really don't realize how it makes us look as a fan base when they go off like that. People do the same for a season: one or two losses in the beginning and folks are ready to fire all the coaches and plan for a top-10 first round draft pick. (Now, in hindsight of the Falcon's season, I can understand the coaching part, but work with me here.) Again, I'm not saying I'm the perfect fan or that I never get worried, but dang, where is the faith for our teams? Can we please stop acting like the fat lady has already hit her high notes and shattered all the windows after every tough loss or early struggles?

I will wrap it all up by saying this: being a true fan does not mean ignoring a team's flaws and shortcomings. It's not being blind to the weaknesses. It's not a failure to acknowledge the things that need to change. I'm not saying any of that. I do believe that being a true fan does mean supporting, encouraging and standing behind your team in spite of everything that I just mentioned. Being a true fan means believing your team will prove all the nay-sayers and haters (ugh... how I hate that word) wrong. Being a true fan means being there regardless if they're 16-0 or 0-16 (I pray we never drop that low). I know for a fact that I am not the only true Atlanta sports fan. I'm glad I'm not by myself, but if I had to stand alone (there are times I feel that I do), I will. I will continue to proudly rock my Falcons #22 "SMOOVE" on Mondays, even after the Falcons lose. I will continue to weather the ridicule of my friends, family and co-workers as a result of my undying love for my teams. I will continue to be the change that I want to see in Atlanta until and well beyond the moment Rob Parker is forced to eat his words with a southern-style sweet-tea chaser. If I have to, I will be Atlanta's only "Stormy-Weather" fan.

F.I.L.A... Forever I Love ATLANTA. WHAT.

Putting "You" Into It

The other night, I received a compliment from one of my salsa buddies that really stood out to me. He had watched me teach several times, but had never actually watched me dance. He told me that, while he was very impressed with my dancing, he noticed something different about me. He went on about how, when he watches most dancers, their dance styles make it very obvious as to who their instructors were and which dancers they look up to. However, when he watched me, even having known the people I had taken lessons with, he wasn’t able to discern from my dancing who I had learned from or who I modeled my dancing after. He described me as “seamless.”

As I thanked him for the compliment, I explained to him why it meant so much to me, not just to get a compliment on my dancing, but to get that compliment specifically. Just as I did with him, I’ll take you guys back to my days as a "salsa scrub". I had been dancing and taking lessons since October of 2002, but it wasn’t until 2004 that I got involved in Atlanta’s salsa scene heavily. In the beginning of 2006, I was extra hungry and eager to improve, so along with taking as many classes and workshops as I could, I bought a video camera so that I could track my progress as a dancer. From time to time, I would have a friend record me dancing with some of my favorite salseras. To my dismay, I hardly ever liked what I saw. More often than not, I would bore myself when I watched the footage of my social dancing. "I look like that?!?! For real?"

After several months of cringing at the sight of my own dancing, I finally figured out why I was so discouraged with my personal performance. I realized that I was comparing myself to the dancers that I looked up to. I had subconsciously decided that anything I did that didn't stack up to what my salsa role-models could do just wasn't good enough. I was expecting too much of myself. I had to remind myself that, although I had been progressing, I had yet to put in the same years of training that those who inspired me did, so I couldn't expect myself to look as good as them (yet). But it wasn't just in that regard that I wasn't being fair to myself. Not only was I not on their level skill-wise, but I wasn't them. I had to realize that even if I ever matched them in talent and skill, I still will never be them. I will never be Gordon Neil. I will never be Joel Masacote, Sekou McMiller, Al Espinoza, or any other "salsa celebrity" I looked up to. At the same time, however, neither of them will ever be me.

You see, I came to the conclusion that, while I should still take inspiration from my role models and peers, I shouldn't try to be like them. No one will ever "do them" better than they can, and no one will ever "do me" better than I can. Yes, I may learn moves and techniques from various instructors and performers, but once I do them correctly, I then have to make them my own. I have to put "me" into it. This epiphany of mine gave me the conviction that a dancer should strive to find his or her self. I say this at the risk of being cliche (I hate that with a passion) but a dancer has to have his or her own dance style. I believe that we do our instructors and role models --and ourselves as well-- a huge disservice if we become carbon copies of them. No one should be able to look at a dancer and say "I can tell he's such-and-such's student" or "it's obvious that what's-her-face is her role model."

"How do I keep myself from becoming a clone of my instructor?" you might ask. It has a lot to do with what I mentioned earlier: putting "you" into your dance style. I know, I know... That's such a vague term, and I really have no way of explaining what exactly that means. I'd kick myself right now if I could, because I'm breaking a teaching rule that I live and die by, which is to not teach anything that you can't break down. Anyway, I digress... I suppose it's vague for a reason: I can't really tell you how to find yourself. Heck, I really don't even know how I found myself in my dancing. I do know, however, that once I realized that I could only be me and no one else, it eventually came out. I'm not sure if it's even something you can tangibly go after or take practical steps towards. I think it kind of just gradually comes about once you decide to be an individual. You absorb everything when it comes to technique of course, but as far as moves and persona, you begin to filter things out, keeping what you like and discarding the rest.

One thing that I believe will help is just knowing yourself, period. It's been my experience that a dancer's personality is reflected through their dancing, sometimes even amplified. If you're the type that loves attention, it will show. For instance, I recall one instructor who was around in my early days as a salsero, he was the prototypical "oozin' machismo", Alpha-male Latino. Everything about his dancing gave off a powerful, "look at me" type of energy. Me, on the other hand, I've always been a very calm, reserved person, and that shows in my dancing as well. I learned LA style salsa first, which tends to be more flashy and aggressive, but all the dancers that I eventually would look up to danced NY style --fluid, mellow and smooth-- which resonated with my personality more. Being blessed with long legs and arms as well (very little of me is torso), NY style also fit my body type. Once I learned the difference, I began to gravitate towards NY style salsa. My style is ever-evolving, but I would say that the dancer in me is very "smoove" and playful, or "tranquilo", as I was most recently described by a local Latin band member.

I had to express all of this to my friend (in fewer words, of course) because to me, it was confirmation that I had come such a long way from where I was before, and to hear it from someone else meant a lot to me. I hope that, through my teaching, dancing and blogging, I can inspire other dancers to have the same outlook on their dance lives. To be themselves and also to become better versions of themselves, constantly evolving and progressing.

Slaves To The Past

“Behind every B(expletive) is a man who made her that way.”

I found this statement while browsing the quotes section of an acquaintance’s Facebook page. While I have some sharp disagreements with this quote (more on that later), the main point does have some validity to it. We’ve all had our bad experiences, especially in the realm of love and relationships. These experiences can and often do have lasting effects on our lives and ultimately on who we become. While the quote I mentioned earlier specifically addresses scorned women, neither gender is immune to these life-altering events.

Closely related to the quote above, there is an old saying that once a “good girl” goes bad, she’s gone forever. A woman may start out as a nice girl. Fairly attractive, sweet and innocent. Somewhere along the line, she has one or more bad experiences with men. She gets her heart broken by her first love. Or, she gets cheated on and/or lied to. Or, she gets emotionally and/or physically abused. Or maybe she never has any experiences with men because the men always ignore her since she’s the quintessential “girl next door” who’s not “hot” enough, “sexy” enough, or “easy” enough. Whatever the case may be, the “good girl” changes for the worse. She gets tired of being burned, so she turns into a “bad girl.” She begins to use men the way that they used her before, making them pay for the pain she felt. She treats men the way they “deserve” to be treated. She puts up a fortress of walls around her heart and vows to never trust men again.

Though the story is not quite as familiar, the same thing can happen to men. Enter: the “Nice Guy”. A respectful guy and always a gentleman. Somehow or another, he also gets burned. He’s told he’s “too nice”, or “you’re sweet, but…” He gets strung along or always ends up in the “friend zone” due to his niceness. He gets passed over for or cheated on in favor of the “bad boys”. To protect his heart from being broken again, he also turns “bad.” He becomes a womanizer or “playa”, so to speak, to avoid love and get revenge on women for the one(s) who burned him. Or, being tired of finishing last as nice guys always seem to do, he becomes an a-hole, since they’re the ones who always seem to get what they want from women. They’re the ones who women always chose over him.

I can’t say that my experiences were anywhere near as extreme as what I just described, but I can relate to the “nice guy gone bad.” I was baffled by the fact that even though the women I knew described me as a sweet and respectful gentleman, I was always slept on in favor of the “bad” boys; guys who they would eventually complain about when they were mistreated by them. Sadly, this sometimes occurred with the same women who assured me that I was such a “good catch” (“Why aren’t you trying to catch me, then?” I wondered). Fortunately, I was mature enough to realize that being a “bad boy” wasn’t the way to go, and that those women were making bad decisions.

I say that, not to say that I have all the answers, but to say that we all have our own parts to play in what we become. That is why I have such a problem with the statement I mentioned earlier. To me, that phrase implies a lack of self-responsibility, as if you have no control over whether or not you allow the quality of your character to digress. A man cannot turn a woman into a “B” and a woman cannot turn a man into an “a-hole.” Yes, others may have caused or been apart of your negative experiences, but it is not them who makes you into whatever you are. Contrary to popular belief, you choose whether or not you become what you are. Many may argue this point, but if I were a betting man (and not quite as broke as I am), I’d be willing to bet that those same people who claim that the opposite gender made them the way that they are would have a huge problem if you tried to tell them that they have no control over their future; that they have no control over who or what they become. However, in saying that “a man made me this way” or “a woman made me this way”, that is exactly what they are stating, albeit inadvertently.

Recently, I was involved in a twitter discussion about this very same subject. I made the statement that no one makes you bitter; that you choose to become that. Another tweeter (we would eventually follow each other) argued that no one chooses to be bitter, but that they do what they have to do to adapt, protect themselves, and move on. To an extent, I agree with her argument. We don’t directly choose to be bitter. No sane person likes being bitter and mad at the world (or just the opposite gender). None of us want to be that way. However, we do have a choice in how we react to our experiences. Maybe not our initial reactions and feelings, but we definitely have a choice in how we adapt and protect ourselves from then on. We can choose to react positively, making wiser decisions and realizing that, no matter how many bad apples we've bitten, the men or women we've encountered don't represent the rest of the gender. Or we can choose to react negatively, blaming the other gender for our misery and viewing all of them as if they are the same person who hurt us before. We are ultimately responsible for how we allow our experiences to affect us, and when we choose to ignore that responsibility, it is then that we indirectly choose to become bitter.

The unfortunate thing about all of this is that it is so easy to take the low road. It takes less effort to just cast all the blame on others and choose not to view your situations objectively. I’m not saying that you are to blame in every situation that goes awry, and I’m also not excusing the other party in each of your relationships from any wrongdoing. However, we’d all do well to realize that in every relationship we have – good or bad, romantic or platonic – we are the common denominator. You are the common factor in every interaction you have. That may mean different things for each person and situation, but at the end of the day we have to look at ourselves as well as the others involved so that we can make the right decisions moving forward. We all must realize that when we allow ourselves be slaves to our pasts, allowing our experiences to control and shape us, we make things worse for ourselves and those who come in contact with us. When we feel entitled to treat members of the opposite sex harshly just because the same has been done to us in the past, we do nothing but feed the vicious cycle, adding gasoline to an already raging inferno.

Heartbreaker

Last week, one of my twitter buddies asked her followers how many hearts they’d broken in their lifetime. She stated that, to her knowledge, she’s only broken 1.5 (that .5 is questionable, she says). I thought about my body-count in the realm of love, and I can only recall one (that I know of), but that one instance was pretty hard on me. Ironically, it was around this time that year that it happened. Let’s hop in the time-machine and travel back to Tallahassee, FL, circa September-ish 2000…

It was early in my first semester at FAMU. I was making a routine trip to the mail room on a Saturday afternoon (when you’re a broke, hungry college freshman, you tend to check your mail like clockwork). I was pleasantly surprised by one particular piece of mail I got that day. It was from a young lady from my church back home. We’ll call her “T”. Here’s a little background on my relationship with T at that time:

I met T sometime earlier that year, though I can’t say exactly when. What I can remember is that I began to develop a crush on her sometime between mid-Summer and the beginning of my freshman year. The situation was one I was all too familiar with: I liked a girl who didn’t like me back. We were friends, but I could tell that she wasn’t really feelin’ me. As the time to head off for college drew closer and closer, I began to think about the possibilities of finding a potential girlfriend. I’d heard that the female-male ratio at FAMU was ridiculously lopsided. For someone who had never had a girlfriend up to that point, it was music to my ears. I’d heard that the ratio was anywhere from 3 to 1 all the way to a most likely exaggerated 10 to 1. Either way, it made perfect sense for me to wait until I arrived in Tallahassee to make any serious moves in the relationship department. However, I learned the hard way that no matter what you decide on in your mind, it’s hard to keep what’s in your heart from overflowing into your actions. As much as I tried to dial down my interest in T, she could still tell that I liked her. However, that didn’t change how she felt about me. Or so I thought…

Ok, so back to my special piece of mail. I opened the envelope to find a letter from T. This wasn’t just any old letter, mind you. She had written it on notebook paper, but only used the middle third of the paper. She cut the paper out and pasted it onto yellow construction paper, and used various colors of markers to draw hearts, stars, butterflies, and other lovey-dovey, girly things all over the paper. Due to all this, what would have been a 1.5 page letter was stretched out to a 4-page letter O_O. I can’t remember the exact words of her letter of course, but the “Cliff Notes” version would read something like this: “I didn’t like you when you were here, but now that you’re gone, I like you.” I was both elated and peeved about this at the same time. I was happy that someone I liked finally liked me back, but was annoyed that she didn’t begin to like me until I lived a four-hour drive away. Oh, how love has a strange sense of timing.

T also mentioned in her letter that she would be writing me a lot. This, my beloved readers, is a perfect case of “You think you know, but you have no idea.” Trust me when I say that there is no cockiness or arrogance involved in what I’m about to say, but the amount of letters (yes, this is the year 2000 when we hadn’t quite completely abandoned the concept of the hand-written letter) and e-mails I got from T bordered on obsession. I’ll give you guys an example of just how deep this thing went: I was on the infamous Blackplanet.com (the Myspace of its time) back then. I had numerous friends and had doctored up my page with all types of photos and animated GIFs and such, and I was a regular in the chat rooms. Shortly after T’s initial letter to me, she joined Blackplanet as well. However, every time I went to visit her page, no matter how much time had passed, she’d done nothing to her page. No bio, no profile pic, no background change, no nothing. Her page showed she had only one friend: me. I was the only reason she had joined Blackplanet.

While I did enjoy the attention I was getting from her, and relished the fact that someone actually liked me back, I knew in my heart that I didn’t want to start my first relationship ever with someone who was close to 300 miles away, not when there was the possibility of having someone closer. Yet, I still had feelings for her and was attracted to her, and didn’t know how to suppress that in my interactions with her. I’m ashamed to admit that I allowed my actions to lead her on to think that we were going somewhere. After a few weeks passed, I began to give this situation some deep thought. I didn’t feel right about it. That weekend, I returned home along with my roommate, his girlfriend, and several of her girlfriends for the annual FAMU vs TSU classic. I had bought T a ticket to come to the game with us, but for reasons I can’t remember, she wasn’t able to make it (I can remember, however, that ma dukes wasn’t too happy about it and felt she could have made more of an effort to come, but I digress). While I was at home, I talked with my dad about what I was feeling. He gave me some advice that I held on to up to this day; advice that I think all men should heed to. He told me that a big problem that many men have is not being up front about how they really feel, and that I should let her know what was going on with me at the very next opportunity.

I took my dad’s advice to heart. The next contact I had with T was when we were chatting on Blackplanet (in retrospect, I realize that this was a pretty whack way of going about it. Honestly, I really can’t remember if I purposely started the conversation there out of fear of conflict, or if I went for it out of convenience since I just happened to see her online. Anyway, the current version of me would have called her). I tried to ease into the topic, and I can’t remember how I started it off, but somehow T knew exactly where this was going. The conversation went downhill from there. She was upset, to say the least. Her parting words will forever be etched in my memory: “Let me get off of here ‘cause I’m not about to sit up on this computer and cry.” I left that conversation thinking to myself: “What have I done?”

I couldn’t stand the thought that I had broken someone’s heart; that I had lead someone on. I had always seen on various talk shows how men got a bad rap for cheating on women, dogging them out, and otherwise mistreating them in relationships. I had vowed to myself that I would never be “that guy,” that I would never give a woman any reason to think of me as a “dog” or “cheater.” Before I knew it, I had done just that. I felt horrible about it. It felt like a breakup, and we weren’t even together. If I didn’t already feel bad about it on my own, T made extra sure that I would. Over the next week or so, I continued to get emails from T, but they were no where near as pleasant as the ones she sent before. She told me how she used to have a picture of me in her wallet, and when others asked her who I was, she’d reply that I was someone who’d be “very close to her” very soon, but since our conversation, she had taken it out. I thought to myself, “Why even mention that now?” She also went on about how she thought I was different from other guys, but I proved her wrong. Feeling depressed about the situation, I called my mom and told her everything. Mom acknowledged where I messed up, but told me that although T was sincerely hurt, she was being immature and manipulative about the situation, trying to get me to feel as bad about it as she did (hey, it was working). She assured me that I really wasn’t like those other guys, and that I did the right thing once I realized that what I was doing was wrong. I wrote T back, telling her the same thing. I told her that “other guys” would have continued to lead her on, possibly even cheated on her while having another girl locally. Needless to say, Mom’s words were very timely. I felt like a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders after her pep-talk.

So, there it is, my first and only time breaking someone’s heart. I learned a few valuable lessons from it. I learned that I have to keep careful watch over my words and actions when hearts and feelings are involved. I also learned to be very clear about my intentions when it comes to relationships so that I don’t give any false direction or hope. Finally, I learned how to not allow a woman to drag me onto a proverbial “emotional roller-coaster” with her. As for my own heart, I have chips, bruises and few fumbles here and there, but for the most part, it remains in-tact. Hopefully, I’ll be smart enough about who I allow to hold it so that it won’t sustain any unnecessary heavy damage.