Especially during difficult times, it’s important to have an outlet, a stress reliever, or simply an activity in which we can express ourselves freely. Studies have shown that regular exercise can boost mood. For many, however, exercise can be a struggle, and it can take some doggedness to get going.
I didn’t think I could “Zumba.”
I was 40 years old. I knew I was fit enough for the one-hour Latin-inspired dance fitness class at the gym because I took other cardio classes, from cycling to boot camp to kickboxing. I considered myself relatively fit. But I didn’t think I could take a Zumba class. I didn’t think I could allow my body to move expressively. I didn’t think I could bear to see my reflection in the mirror.
Negative Experiences Shape Us
My past was dictating my present.
When I was five, every weekend my mother put a Disney album on the record player, and I skipped and hopped and leaped around the room for hours, paying attention to nothing and no one but the music and the way I expressed myself through my body. I danced; I lived and breathed the rhythm of each moment, until the sexual abuse of my childhood caused me to stop.
I grew up ashamed of my body, closing it up, folding myself inward, so that no one would see my pain or what was underneath it: the essence of me. As an adult, I spent years in therapy psychologically processing the various aspects and effects of the abuse, peeling away the layers, but my body still stored the unspeakable parts of my past.
Break Free From Old Beliefs
Despite whatever has happened to us, whatever beliefs we form around events and their aftermath, we can transform our thoughts and our way of life—though it can be difficult, doggedness can help us through.
On Sundays at the gym, I could see the Zumba class from the step master machine. Weekly, for almost a year, as I climbed on the machine, I watched the Zumba class through the studio glass walls, wanting to be like the women inside, women of all different shapes, sizes, ages, and physical abilities, who moved their bodies so freely, so expressively. They danced combinations of cumbia, merengue, samba, and other routines choreographed and led by Adam, the instructor I overheard a trainer call “the epitome of life force.”
One day, I couldn’t stop myself: I went into the studio. Nervous, I stood in the back of the room so as not to be noticed making what I anticipated would be a fool of myself. I’d left my contact lenses at home so that I wouldn’t be able to see myself in the mirror, but I could still make out the shape of my body in the distance, my purple tank top, my black workout capris, my blonde hair up in a ponytail. I felt my legs and arms and insides shaking.
The instructor, Adam, walked in front of the mirrors. “If it’s your first time taking Zumba,” he said, “just keep moving and have fun. Don’t worry about knowing what you’re doing.”
Then he started the music: Ariana Grande’s “Break Free.”
I spent the class (and many, many more) in the back of the room, feeling uncoordinated and embarrassed, at times panicked by the sudden rush of chills and tears that released as my body moved. I shut my eyes and felt the music—I’m stronger than I’ve been before!/This is the part when I break free/’Cause I can’t resist it no more! I felt my five-year-old self inside my skin, dancing: I found my own lost joy.
Adam gave us tips about posture, showed us how to hold our shoulders and chest open, how to move our feet and our legs. “Do you feel sexy?” he shouted. The body was not an object to be debased, but a birthright to be respected and honored.
My body, so used to walking around closed and clamped down, started to open. As I continued going to Zumba class, I slowly made my way from the back of the studio towards the front of the room. Outside of class, I became aware that I was beginning to carry myself differently.
Overcome Setbacks
When we take a big step and make a change, that doesn’t mean it will all be smooth sailing.
Three months after I stepped into my first Zumba class, I had a setback. Watching the television news, I learned that a man had been arrested at a popular local café, where he was later convicted of videotaping women in the restroom. He’d hidden electronic devices in a fake flower basket and filmed and streamed nude images of patrons onto his cell phone.
I’d been at the café on the dates of the crime. I’d stopped in during a bike ride to use the restroom. I’d seen the flower basket. When I saw the news report, my heart began to pound, and then I went numb. The trauma of my past came flooding back.
I called the police.
The following day, the Zumba class was on my schedule, but I wasn’t sure I could go. I considered staying home, sitting it out. All I could think about was the man at the café. I didn’t want anyone to see my body, my “booty.” I didn’t think I could bear to show myself in the world ever again. I didn’t want to feel the pain.
I went to class anyway. I contemplated standing in the back, in the corner, out of sight, out of mind. But then I didn’t. I walked straight to my newfound space, three rows from the front, near the speakers.
When Adam turned on the music, I saw my reflection in the mirror, and for a moment, I felt paralyzed, haunted, watched, and violated. But then, I started to dance. I felt myself break free. I felt my joie de vivre. And I understood that no one could take that away from me.
Turn Challenges Into Opportunities
When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.
I never imagined that my decision to finally step inside a Zumba class would lead me to become a Zumba instructor. In middle school, I was the girl who auditioned for the kickline and cheerleading teams, didn’t make the cut, and was made fun of by the popular kids.
At 42, I told myself I had nothing to lose. I obtained my Zumba instructor license and auditioned for jobs at local gyms, where I was hired. Almost a decade later, weekly, I get up on a stage in front of a room of people, and I turn on the lights and the fans and the music, and we all shake off our week and our booty.
In a time of great turmoil, it’s important to take a pause to forget about life for a while and just let loose. Immerse yourself in the moment. Be in flow. Do the thing you think you can’t. Take up space, be yourself, doggedly, in whatever way that brings you happiness.