dance – UAB Institute for Human Rights Blog

Getting a Mental Detox in Rwanda

This Sunday 7 April is the International Day of Remembrance of the Victims of the Rwandan Genocide.

I decided to study the Rwandan genocide after attending the Institute for Human Rights conference entitled, “Bystanders and Complicity in Nazi Germany and the Jim Crow South.” Rwanda, viewed as a trophy of the African “mission field” by many in Western Christianity, shocked many onlookers in the period during and after the genocide as it became obvious that Christians had killed Christians. Moreover, many estimate that most Rwandan Genocide victims were killed in churches, an assertion that stimulated my interest. The Rwandan Genocide differs from other genocides because religion did not serve as a demarcation to target victims as “other.” Most people in Rwanda identified as Christian, and the religious affiliation did not coincide with ethnic identity.

Last summer, I tagged along with a group of teachers and professors who were passionate about using education to prevent genocide. This was a first step in developing my thesis: Stories from Rwandan Churches Priot to the Genocide: A Collection of Oral Histories. The travel group knew one another from collaborating with the Holocaust Museum, and they held great affection and esteem for Carl Wilkens, our group leader. Wilkens backstory, as described on his website, is this:

As a humanitarian aid worker, Carl Wilkens moved his young family to Rwanda in the spring of 1990. When the genocide was launched in April 1994, Carl refused to leave, even when urged to do so by close friends, his church and the United States government. Thousands of expatriates evacuated, and the United Nations pulled out most of its troops. Carl was the only American to remain in the country. Venturing out each day into streets crackling with mortars and gunfire, he worked his way through roadblocks of angry, bloodstained soldiers and civilians armed with machetes and assault rifles in order to bring food, water and medicine to groups of orphans trapped around the city. His actions saved the lives of hundreds.”

With this experience, one might not be surprised that Wilkens has chosen to position himself as a force for peace and as a catalyst to stimulate people to seek to become integrated beings with emphasis on respect, empathy, and inclusion.

I had expected to cultivate empathy and understanding and to gather context and information, but I had not considered the idea that this trip with teachers would provide space for some mental detox. I had heard Rwanda described as a country with gorillas and genocide, but I saw a place where the government exceeded expectations in the context of health care and infrastructure. Ranking among the 20 poorest countries in the world, Rwanda is a place of paradox. When our group gathered in the small white bus outside the Kigali Airport, I first sensed that this would be different than I had expected. Carl Wilkens presided over our discussion as we rode to the hotel that would be our home for the next 11 days. Wilkens urged us to harness the power of gratitude to rewire neural circuits and reminded us that since negative thoughts stick like Velcro, one must intentionally attend to the task of noting the positive.

Early on the first day, to fulfill Wilkens’ charge, our designated facilitator, a teacher from Nebraska, urged us to think about “The Good Life,” the motto for her home state. As the group shared visions of a good life, I noticed that already, just twelve hours in Rwanda, we had erased default notions of acquisition or competitive achievement as core building blocks in “The Good Life.” Instead, people cited nature, learning, and human connectivity as the essence of a good life.

Gratitude underpins the curriculum for Mindleaps, a thriving multinational NGO designed to empower children who come from the most impoverished homes. Mindleaps collaborates with the Gisimba Training Center, a repurposed orphanage that was featured in Wilkens’ book, I’m Not Leaving. This was our first stop on the Carl Wilkens Tour. Once a child is accepted to Mindleaps, she has the opportunity to have a noon meal, wear a special uniform, receive school supplies, learn digital literacy (as an enticement to learn English), attend academic enrichment classes, and have her mother participate in a parenting-strengthening program (fathers are often away seeking work). Oh, and the best part is the child learns to dance very well. Dancing gives the children confidence and a sense of personal achievement that will be key to developing skills to thrive.

I visited the home of a seven-year-old student who regularly walks alone to Mindleaps — a three-quarter mile jaunt down a hilly tangle of dirt roads that are jam-packed with huts. Her home has no electricity or plumbing and only a patchy tin roof. Her mom comes to the parental-enrichment class regularly. The strategies used by Mindleaps are being tested by a tracking software program to provide a nuanced evaluation of the children in the areas of memorization, language, grit, discipline, teamwork, self-esteem, and creativity. For me, the visit to the Mindleaps gated compound was a transcendent experience. I saw excellence, bright colors, simple food, and a tidy vegetable garden. A swarm of smiling students wanted to touch and thank each one in our group.

Holistic, abundant living combines heart and head. So far, this time in Rwanda has allowed me to peel off barnacles of language and worldly possessions and notice feelings of gratitude and love. Watching the children and teachers leap in grand plié’s to Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” consolidated my embrace of Rwanda’s Mental Detox. Rwandans have embraced the ethos of gratitude. The security detail at the entrance to the parking lot of Hotel Des Mille Collines paused from the task of pushing mirrors on long handles under incoming Land Rovers (to check for bombs) and greeted our group of pedestrians on foot. He said, “Thank you for visiting our hotel.” Street merchants, airport personnel, gardeners, cooks, and administrators said variations of “Thank you for visiting our country.”

As the old saying goes, “You won’t remember what they said, but you will remember how they made you feel.” In Rwanda, I feel loved and appreciated.

Interconnection Among Dance and Human Rights

Two things, seemingly unrelated, have the ability to impact and reshape people’s lives.

Toni Shapiro-Phim worked at a refugee camp in Indonesia and Thailand, where a lot of people came from Vietnam and Cambodia. In Vietnam, many went through a horrific journey to arrive in Indonesia, while in Cambodia they were fleeing genocide. Something that connects these two countries is the ability to enlist in the arts as a way of survival and endurance. Many were drawing, painting, creating poetry, and dancing. You may ask yourself, what do the arts have to do with social justice? In regards to Cambodians, dance has to do with the “spirits of the land”; it is a way to connect to the “earth of Cambodia”. Dance is able to coexist during hardships and violence. They chose to find something beautiful amidst the chaos. Dance is a way to connect individuals with their community, create conversations, provide resources, and, most of all, create a sanctuary.

“When people are ground down by the inhumanity, danger and chaos around them, they choose to participate in a certain form of expressive culture because it is, at that moment, something they can’t live without.”

In Chile, there was a dictator by the name of Pinochet who managed to make people who were “enemies of the state” disappear. Women would go into the streets and dance the cueca sola, the country’s national dance as determined by Pinochet. The dance is traditionally known as a couple’s dance. However, the women altered the meaning of this dance by dancing alone. On their clothes, they had pictures of their loved ones that had disappeared. This bold statement led way to the end of the Pinochet regime. Dance has the ability to make a change and speak in a way where words are not needed.

In some countries, dancing is believed to be too influential and as a result, has been banned. Some of these countries include Japan, Sweden, and Germany. Many people are surprised to hear that Sweden has a dancing ban. You are not allowed to spontaneously dance. Bars and pubs have to get a license in order for people to dance. Japan had a similar ban which forbade dancing unless the venue had a license up until midnight. However, the ban was recently repealed. Dancing on Good Friday is forbidden in 13 of the 16 states in Germany. The dancing ban is called “Tanzverbot”. Although, in the three states where it is not illegal, there is still a ban until 9 pm on Good Friday. People found dancing will be fined. Specifically, in Baden-Württemberg, dancing is banned from Maundy Thursday to Easter Monday at 3 am. Dancing is also banned from Christmas Eve to Boxing Day at 3 am.

As Macaulay, a chief critic of the New York Times, said, “think globally, dance locally.”

FLEXN Evolution is an improvised dance performance that addresses racial equality and social justice. Their production, called “bone breaking”, focuses on being broken physically or emotionally and rebuilding yourself. Not only do these dancers use dance to express their pain, but they also use dialogue and photography. Before every performance, they have an event with a panel consisting of Common Justice (an organization that works with racial equality and crime survivors), scholars, and community leaders to hold conversations on the issue they are trying to advocate. In addition to the performance, there is a photo series of portraits of all the dancers. The purpose of these photos is to show people what it feels like to be in America – the good and the bad.

A topic that often comes up in the news is climate change. Here are three choreographers and their inspiring story on how they integrated dance with climate change.

Davalois Fearon choreographed a piece on water scarcity. Something that set her apart from other choreographers was how she used dance as a way to interact with the audience. Two dancers hand out cups randomly to some audience members, while a third dancer pours water in some of the cups. Fearon’s goal is to give the audience members an idea of what it feels like to be “denied a resource, overlooked and ignored.” The message doesn’t stop with the performance but continues on with a discussion. The discussion is meant to create a safe environment where people can talk about the issue and try to understand it.

The next artist, Jill Sigman, created a piece on disposability called the Hut Project. Her project focuses on creating hut that is made out of scavenged materials. She wants to go against societal norms of prizing things that are new and shiny and tossing out things that are old. By creating huts from materials deemed as old and useless, she shows people that there is beauty in things that we deem as disposable. She tells you to not be so quick to throw out things simply because they are old and goes on to reveal how things we discard have a story and are complex. Additionally, she hosts a conversation after the performance to talk more about the issue.

The third choreographer, Rulan Tangen, also uses dance as a platform to raise awareness about disposability. She creates discourse on how climate change is a symptom of injustice and people not respecting all forms of life. Currently, she is creating a piece on renewable energy from different perspectives such as cultural and practical. She even goes on to discuss the sustainability for the design of her dance production.

Climate Change. Source: Wikimedia Commons, Creative Commons

In Los Angeles, street dance activism is on the rise. In 2014, Ezell Ford, a black man with mental illness was shot by the police. Activist, Shamell Bell, camped out by the police department for days to request that the officers involved in the shooting be fired. She invited her friend Dashawn Blanks, a noted street dancer, to instruct social dances that were generated in black communities. Protestors, while there for an important cause, were also able to be cheerful while dancing because they were dancing for a cause but also for themselves. Another example is in 2012 when Trayvon Martin’s killer was found not guilty where people headed to Leimert Park to express themselves through dance. Eventually, the L.A. chapter of Black Lives Matter was produced and, in the following years, there have been numerous fatal shootings so Bell would orchestrate dance as a way to show a different way to protest. She also went on to form a group, called the Balance Collective, of both dancers and artists who fight “racism, police brutality, sexism, and homophobia”. “I teach because it’s not about me. I wish I could fade into the background,” Bell says. “This work is about us using art as a platform to save ourselves so we can save others.”

Dance is where people can use movement to portray inequities. Different social justice issues ranging from the environment to racial inequality can be addressed through dance. Never underestimate how powerful dance can be.