It must have been the realization that my “carefree” days in the US is almost coming to an end that made me sign up for the beginning jazz dance class. Jazz dance is another thing that I never thought I would do.

Unlike spinning, this class requires me to work physically and mentally. Memorizing the steps, counting the beats, keeping up with the rest of the class, trying to not stand out like a sore thumb (believe me, it’s easy to look awkward when you move right as everyone else is moving left). But it’s a forgiving class since there is quite a large number of never-danced-before students.

I’m enjoying the jazz dance class. I even bought a pair of black leather slip-on jazz shoes I just need to put aside any inhibitions, try my best and not worry about how I look.

It’s funny how the Chinese dance culture evolved to become a performance-only activity. In Africa, dance is part of life. It’s not a teenage-thing. It’s not a clubbing-thing. It’s not a sexual-thing. It’s not a taboo-thing. My African friends dance at every single party: weddings, birthdays, baby dedications, graduations. It’s like laughing: everyone laughs when they hear or see something funny. So is their dancing: everyone dances when they are celebrating. There’s no awkwardness. There’s no good or bad dancing, just like there’s no good or bad walking/sitting/breathing.