Dooley Noted: 7/18/2016
In junior high, I wanted to compete in a local talent show.
I loved to dance. But we couldn’t really afford dance lessons for me.
It didn’t stop me at all.
I studied MTV as if it were a textbook, learning Janet Jackson choreography. She was my teacher.
You could find me in the back yard for hours a day, choreographing what I thought were expressive and beautiful moves.
Where I grew up in Indiana, the local dance studios were much like childhood beauty contests.
The girls were made up in overpriced, custom-made, overly sequined outfits, with exuberant, almost creepy smiles and supremely polished choreography.
I watched what was mainstream – and never witnessed a deviation from it.
And as a 12 year-old, I found it irritating.
I kept asking questions that no one was answering.
Where was the hip-hop? Where was anything even different? Why were there so many sequined outfits and overly painted faces?
Where was the passion to just dance?
My friend Dana and I auditioned for our town’s summer talent show.
And somehow, we beat out some of our sequined and polished competition in order to enter the show.
We hip-hop danced with pure heart and fun, wearing backwards neon hats and airbrushed t-shirts.
I saw many people in the crowd at our audition laughing at us.
And when the judges announced that we had gotten into the show, many people were appalled.
Of course, we didn’t win the show.
But we had left a mark – that there was room for people who did things differently.
Into adulthood, this tenacity for change followed me into every aspect of life.
The smooth talk and sleekness of Big Pharma ads were the overly polished dance routines of my talent show competition.
The overly cut and tanned fitness models squatting in their underwear were the sequined and makeup-lined faces of my junior high dance competitors.
And most of the time, they still win out – just as they did back in junior high.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t compete.
All it takes is a standard change to show there’s room for more than one type of dancer.
More and more people aren’t buying the sleek drug ads and the starved fitness models as symbols of health.
I fight a great game in which to compete, knowing I have a tough hand to play.
But I represent people who see past the sleek – and appreciate what’s truly underneath.
As I land in Taiwan, I know I’m helping teach anatomy is a way that isn’t the typically winner of the talent show.
We don’t have sleek apps, or fancy methods, or upscale costumes.
But I’m part of something that is a different kind of choreography.
And people need a fresher look at the anatomy.
Had I been financial richer in my youth, I may have been a product of the sleek.
I may have missed out on how it felt to change the game.
We have our own choreography – and we love to dance with it.
I hope you learn to look past the sleek.
I hope you learn to put down your anatomy apps on occasion and really feel the anatomy move within your own body.
I hope you find a choreography that may not be the standard, but it resonates with you.
As always, it’s your call.
– Dr. Kathy Dooley
P.S. If sleek anatomy has you lost and not knowing much of it all, come learn with us.
www.immaculatedissection.com