You’d think that my bio would be a little more definitive, with a lot more pizazz. I’m a writer with a marketing degree, for goodness’ sake; self-promotion should be in the bag! But unfortunately for me, I live in patriarchal society where self-promotion, especially for women, is considered the “eighth deadly sin.” It’s a constant struggle where I have to consciously remind—and permit—myself that this so-called sin isn’t about bragging, nor is it about one-upping. Media in this day and age doesn’t foster humbleness; in fact, being humble gets you next to nowhere, fast. You need self-promotion, however “shameless,” to survive and to “[maintain] one’s presence in the eyes of readers and employers.”
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, ‘Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?’ Actually, who are you not to be?”
—Marianne Williamson, “A Return to Love”
Yes, you can get that on a t-shirt, mug, or decal courtesy of Etsy. And yet self-promoting is frowned upon. Your work should speak for itself; content is king!, they say. Then there’s my greatest fear: what if people—and by extension, me—don’t think it’s good enough?! Writer Rachel Kramer Bussel insists we women push those naysayers and personal insecurities aside: it’s dangerous not to consciously share your work, and even more so to be complacent about it especially in an age ruled by social media. She writes that to “deliberately keep quiet about your accomplishments not only deprives potentially interested readers of finding what you’re up to,” but “it signals that you don’t care enough about your work to share it with the world.”
It’s a goldmine, this article. Go read it.
But I digress. Point is, you’ve taken note of my bio update and have been curious kittens. (No worries, there’s no such thing as “nosy” in the Digital Age.) For a while I’ve been reluctant to share anything regarding my life after work/school hours, much less include it on my resume. Relevance, for one, and two: I think I’m just okay at what I do. I’m the first to say that I’m not particularly spectacular in the grand scheme of things; nonetheless, I am proud of my accomplishments thus far. I am sometimes a dancer—hence the “sometimes dancer” clause, and it’s something I should come to terms with. After all, it is something I do.
I hesitated posting (you could also say promoting, but it’s all semantics) about my involvement in the Michigan Latin Dance Festival. (Video evidence exists, so there’s that.) The truth is, despite all insecurities, I’m a little proud. Okay, I’m proud. A month ago I attended my first ever festival—the first annual Michigan Latin Dance Festival—and even if the performance was botched, it was an incredible and inspiring learning experience. It was an honor to perform and share the stage with some of the best artists in the business. Not yet a year in training and I’ve been blessed with this opportunity: I’m lucky, and I’m grateful to be surrounded by some of the most talented and supportive people you’ll ever meet.
I did end up sharing blips of my weekend though, and the idea of posting clips of the performance video—even on my personal Facebook page—certainly did have me biting my nails (figuratively, that is). But I bit the bullet and did it anyway because
it’s already on the Internet carpe diem, and it’s a part of who I am, and was met with such incredible support.What was I afraid of?
So to answer your question, yes, I’m a sometimes dancer, amongst other things.
. . .