On Taking Up Space

and the people who help me do it

There is a SHiNE¹ class that’s become a bit of a legend amongst a handful of my friends and I. The moment has proved so significant, even our friends who weren’t in the class know about it.

It happened like this:

Michelle was leading us as she does in her strong, hilarious, confident way, through a series of dance routines, telling us to take up space, dance proud, and my favorite, “once you get it, GET it.” (That is, put yourself in the dance. Make those moves yours.) All was going well until a man walked not just into our studio, but through it. In other words, he let us know we were all invisible to him.

I tend to make a big deal out of things, so bear with me as I unpack this moment. My friends and I, we don’t just go to these classes to get exercise. We go to express ourselves, to let things loose. We go to become. This man could’ve walked through a different door, and walked along the side of the studio to where his stuff was. Instead, he walked diagonally through the dance studio. His actions told us we do not matter. We are not as important as he is.

At first Michelle kept leading us through the routine we were working on, and as he walked my way I knew exactly what I would do: move out of his way. And if I accidentally hit him while I was dancing, I knew exactly what I would say: “I’m sorry.”

I soon learned that this is not how Michelle rolls.

“Excuse me, sir,” she began. “You’re in the way.”

“I can’t hear you,” he yelled back, so Michelle turned our music off and we stopped dancing. She looked at us and told us to stay right where we were, a gesture to let us know we are exactly where we are supposed to be. We belong right where we are.

“You’re in the way,” she said again in the same tone she spoke to us - with respect, confidence, and not just in herself, but in who she’s speaking to. She believes we are all capable of doing great and good and bold things.

“You are in my dancers’ way,” she continued. “I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

“This isn’t your room,” he yelled back. And he kept yelling. He was awful. Disrespectful. Belligerent. I was scared. And if I’m being totally honest, I started to cry. It is a great concern of mine that I am in the way. The anxiety is especially acute when I learn I’m in the way when I am doing something that I love.

Michelle never lost her temper. She never raised her voice. She stood her ground.

He left yelling and Michelle walked back to the music while we all clapped and cheered. I shouldn’t speak for the entire class, but it felt like we were all in awe of how Michelle handled this situation.

Before she hit play, she turned to face us.

“I am not afraid of privileged men!” she said, and that was the loudest I heard her that day. We cheered some more and began to dance.

Often you’ll hear, “What happens at SHiNE, stays at SHiNE.” It’s encouragement to move freely, take risks, make mistakes. But I like to think that pieces of that dancing hour stick with me: how to endure, how to see the beauty in trying, how to take up space. Michelle teaches us these lessons in every class. That day when Mr. Privilege came busting through our doors was an extra special lesson that I hope I’ll never forget.

1. If you’re curious about SHiNE Dance Fitness, here is a link to where and when I’m teaching. If you’re not in the area, here is a link to find a class in your town. You will not be sorry you gave it a shot. They are the most fun exercise classes I’ve ever done.