Photo credit: Michael Sean Marye
I’m proud of the fact that I dance for a living and that my workplace consists of a sprung marly floor, random bobby pins, tumbleweeds of long brown hairs, and some of the most amazing artists and people in the city. I’m proud of my ability to dive into a creative practice in a way that supports someone’s vision, and then carry that vision through to a performance in a way that is true to the piece as well as myself. But freelance dancing in Toronto is kinda fucked, and along with it I fear: getting badly hurt, being poor forever, not being able to support a family, not being able to keep up the pace, people getting sick of seeing me perform, always being the same, being misrepresented, not getting any better, not being understood, not being respected, not getting hired, having to find another job because I have to (not because I want to), getting out of shape, never making more the 25k a year, things only getting worst as I get older (physically, emotionally, financially…all of it). So it goes.