Hearing the rigor of their breath reignites my connection to the humanity of dance.
Pueblo dance treading in the path of the ancestors.
It starts with hands: the back of the fingers pressed gently to the forehead.
“She never gave up, she fought to the very end. I just know she’s in heaven flying on that trapeze.”
From music of the enslaved to modern square dancing, we’ve come full circle.
With masks on, mops in hand, and opinions to share, this duo takes us on a journey of being a brown, working-class female.