A Love Letter to South Africa from Brazil

A Conclusion and Reflection of the Last 4 Months in Johannesburg

I’ve been thinking about writing this blog post for a while now. My last blog post from South Africa. Technically, that ship has sailed because I am currently at Heathrow airport in London, waiting for my connecting flight for LA that leaves in about 2 hours. But no stress. In fact, it’s fitting, kind of like posting this on “Africa time”, as many South Africans have explained to me these last 4 months to justify their tardiness to meetings and events starting about 2 hours later than the publicized time. *Footnote- CP time, as it turns out, is quite universal. Brazil time and Africa time aren’t that far away from each other, except I think Africa time is even more exaggerated… my theory is, the stronger the African influence, the more abstract the Western notion of linear time becomes. Yep. I just theorized that shit.

I have been wanting to write this blog post for so long because it has become increasingly clear throughout my stay in South Africa just how special this trip is. More than I could have ever imagined before arriving. How comfortable, welcomed, witnessed, heard, embraced I have felt here. And along the way I’ve been trying to figure out why that is exactly- why, in a country and a continent I had never been to, I would find such kindred spirits and such great resonance with my professional work, cultural values, and radical politics.

I think the reasons are layered.

Firstly, South Africa is much closer in its history, politics, and economics to my native country of Brazil than the US is. South Africa and Brazil are both developing nations part of the emerging BRICS alliance (Brazil, Russia, India, China, South Africa) with an economic infrastructure that has grown exponentially in the last decade and subsequently made them new and big players in international politics. South Africa and Brazil also share similar histories of a sustained oppressive regime that ended relatively recently, making their current democracies quite young and tenuous. For Brazil, it was the military dictatorship that lasted 20 years (1964-1984), and for South Africa, of course, it was the Apartheid regime that reigned over its people for over half a century, ending in 1994.

The result of these conditions make for a bizarre political landscape - on a good day, democracy feels alive, dynamic, bubbling. On a bad day, it is riddled with corruption, scandal, and abuse of power. The televised events of both our congresses make for more exciting drama than the riskiest Brazilian novelas and South African soap operas (think Congressmen Jean-Wyllys spitting on Congressmen Jair Bolsonaro earlier last month and the chaos that ensued from the Economic Freedom Fighters at Zuma’s State of the Nation in February). 

The cast of @dramaforlifewits AMP performing their hilarious and powerful show "Unzipped" at @bushfire_festival @jacqlynej

A photo posted by Marina Magalhães (@marinamagalicious) on

But like I said, on the flip side, is a population of people who are the opposite of apathetic. A people who viscerally remember the trauma of institutionalized racism, censorship and torture tactics and are committed to never letting that happen again. There is a palpable culture of political participation, a widespread and deep knowing that public demonstration and direct action can make a difference, because that was what brought about the demise of the military dictatorship in the 80’s and the Apartheid regime in the 90’s.

As tragic and disheartening as the recent impeachment proceedings in Brazil have been, as much as it has threatened the very nature of democracy in my country, ironically, it has also given me incredible hope. The backlash to the impeachment movement has unleashed a forceful wave of resistance – young people my age, who have no firsthand memory of the military dictatorship, and people my parents’ age, who grew up under it, coming together and protesting by the millions in the streets, universities, government institutions, and theaters.  In a way, democracy being threatened has mobilized many of us (dare I say most of us) to exercise it in the extreme.

And I suppose I hold an interesting positionality in all of this. I am from Brazil, and continue to hold only a Brazilian passport to this day, but I have been living in the US since I was 13 years old. In fact, in about 2 weeks time I will be conducting my US citizenship oath and officially (finally!) become a dual citizen. As much as I love the roots and community I have built in the US, especially in Los Angeles, I get quite frustrated restricting my work and life to those borders, geographical and imaginary. The everyday rhetoric of American exceptionalism gets to me, as does the general apathy that many people feel towards the US political system. It seems to me that these two things are the biggest barriers to democracy in the US, a self-centered population with little knowledge of the rest of the world who, ironically, does not feel invested to actively participate in their democracy. It’s almost like a taking for granted of democracy – it has been around for centuries, and it won’t ever go away, so why struggle to uphold it?

What I have found in South Africa these last 4 months is a kindred spirit – in politics, nationhood, artistry, friends and so much more. I have had the great honor of meeting and working with artists who see their role in society as that of joker, provoker, and connecter. Artist-colleagues who are deeply engaged with what is happening in their country, and just as committed to inciting questions and making meaningful contributions. Artist-friends who will blow my mind with their radical critical consciousness one minute, and slay to a mind-blowingly funky House/Kweito song the next.

In a way, South Africa, and perhaps particularly Johannesburg, is the perfect half-way point for me between Brazil and the US. I get to work in English most of the time, and though it is not my native language, it is (whether I like admitting it or not) the language I feel most comfortable working and expressing myself in due to all the years I spent attending English-speaking schools. And yet, unlike the monolingual dominant culture of the US, there is a strong sense of multi-lingual diversity, due to the melting pot of South African ethnic communities (Afrikaans, Xhosa, Sotho, Tswana, Zulu, and many more). It is also where I can easily find all of my favorite dance and movement forms within a 10 kilometer radius of each other – applied and embodied theater art for social change (the radical and amazing Drama For Life at Wits University), Afro contemporary dance (through Vuyani Dance Theatre and Moving Into Dance Mophatong), House and Afro-street dances (if you’ve never heard Black Coffee or Mafikizolo google them NOW), Hatha yoga (thank you Yoga Warrior), and Afro-Latin dance (forever indebted to the BailaAfrika familia). Hotdamn.

I don’t say all this to compare South Africa to the US, to claim it is better or worse. It’s just different. And I think there is value in interrogating this difference.

Needless to say, I will miss Johannesburg terribly. So, while I build plans to return, may this blog post be a love letter with the promise of reconnection.

In love and gratitude,

Marina

 

Chronicles of a Dancer's Body

On Injury, Recovery, and Longevity

Last Wednesday I woke up and had mysteriously injured my knee overnight. So much so that I had trouble walking and putting weight on it. I had been perfectly fine the day before, and the day before that, had even done my morning yoga practice and gone to dance class and felt great after both experiences. But at some point I must have hyperextended in a pose for too long or done some kind of high impact jump with a weird landing, because the pain was undeniable.

And goddamnit, it was Wednesday.

Wednesday is my favorite day in Johannesburg. On Wednesday mornings, I take an amazing and uber advanced Afro Contemporary company class with the world-renowned Vuyani Dance Theatre, followed by a slow and fluid Hatha yoga class with my favorite yoga teacher in SA, Martiz Steyn, and a fun high-energy Cuban salsa social with Baila Afrika at night. It is like a yummy and delicious bite of my entire dance and movement background in 1 glorious day- the fluid modern dance, the centering spiritual yoga practice, and the rhythmic freestyle of Afro-Latin social dances.

Catch, release, open, sweep, slide, smile #joniandmarinadancedayslay @thatanelo

A photo posted by Marina Magalhães (@marinamagalicious) on

Needless to say, I fucking love Wednesdays in Joburg.

But that day I woke up and my body was denying me all three of these experiences. Telling me to stop moving, slow down, and take care of myself. So, reluctantly, I did.

See, feel, play, respond. Choreographic experiments with @thatanelo #grateful

A photo posted by Marina Magalhães (@marinamagalicious) on

As I did last December, when a reoccurring condition in a reproductive gland flared up again worse than ever and required a last minute surgery and a month of bedrest and recovery. That time, I had to drop out of a series of performances I was doing with Viver Brasil dance company and give up my spot in BodyTraffic’s highly competitive winter dance intensive with world-renowned choreographer Kyle Abraham. I was heartbroken. And deeply afraid.

I was afraid that I was wasting time, at 27 years old and at the prime of my career, wasting time to be reaping the most of my dancing body. Afraid that the instrument I depend on the most, my body, was failing me and how the hell am I supposed to make a living without it. Afraid I was losing professional momentum I had worked so hard to build, and afraid of whatever was going on inside me that was causing such mysterious and extreme physical ailments on the outside.

Having to stop working and slow everything down for a month allowed me (ehem, forced me) to confront all of this head on. After all, I could only binge watch Netflix for so long. So, when I finally felt ready, I sat with all of it and began having some profound breakthroughs, the ripples of which I am still feeling today.

I came to realize the abundance of time, and thus my ability to move more slowly, confidently and patiently through my career. Ironically, I came to realize just how strong and not fragile my body actually was, cultivating a deep gratitude for its resiliency. And I came to understand the cyclical nature of my life as an artist, that it is impossible for me to be dancing full out, rigorously training and generating work, at all times of my career. There will naturally be moments of rest, reflection, recovery, and cerebral work, and though I have a preference for the highly physical, it doesn’t mean that all that other stuff is less valuable or less productive. In fact, all of it is symbiotic and completely necessary.

Today, I still feel tested, trying to cultivate a deep love of and appreciation for my body exactly as it is – whether it is toned and defined, stronger and more fluid, or rounder and softer, slower and more anchored. Because my body is my instrument, the site through which I investigate and generate ideas, it will shift and change as much as my work does.

Love these ladies. #unbridaled 👰🏾💃🏿✊🏾🇿🇦💞😎

A photo posted by Marina Magalhães (@marinamagalicious) on

At the moment, I am trying to soak up as much as I can of my last 10 days in Johannesburg – eating delicious greasy braai barbeque and creamy milk tarts, and wanting to take all of my favorite dance and yoga classes but unable to due to my knee injury, the combination of which is making my body a little rounder and less sprightly than I would like. But hey, it’s just the point I’m at in the cycle. In a few days my knee will heal, and I will be back at the yoga mat and the dance floor in all my sweat and glory.

I once heard Amara Tabor-Smith, a visionary dance artist based in the Bay Area and one of my favorite choreographers, say that people nowadays mistakenly confuse their bodies as theirs, when in reality, our bodies were never really ours to begin with. Reading Thich Nhat Hanh’s “How To Eat” this morning reminded me of that golden piece of wisdom Amara shared, a simple and profound section titled “Your Body Belongs to the Earth”:

“In modern life, people tend to think their bodies belong to them, that they can do anything they want to themselves. But your body is not only yours. Your body belongs to your ancestors, your parents, and future generations. It also belongs to society and to all the other living being. The trees, the clouds, the soil, and every living thing brought about the presence of your body. We can eat with care, knowing we are caretakers of our bodies, rather than their owners.”
— Thich Nhat Hanh

To that, I add, we can dance - train, perform, teach, create, work - with care too. 

Breathe, Be Interested, and Don't Give A Fuck

Reflections & Lessons from Sharing (UN)BRIDALED in South Africa

Last week was the culmination of my artist residency with Wits University’s Drama For Life program, my 3-month stay in South Africa. I shared (UN)BRIDALED, a 45-minute dance theatre show, at the Wits Amphitheatre as part of DFL’s Human Rights and Social Justice Season 2016.

And goddamn. It was fantastic.

At its core, (UN)BRIDALED investigates the point of tension between women’s agency and patriarchal violence. Without presuming to have answers, it poses the question, how do women find agency when confronted with patriarchal violence? This violence ranges from daily verbal assaults and well-meaning family pressure, to overt physical harassment and traumatic life-changing abuse.  With the theme of “State of Emergency”, it made perfect sense to include this show in this year’s Human Rights & Social Justice Season – women live in perpetual states of emergency, every moment of every day, in public and private spaces, negotiating how to protect and assert ourselves (walking alone on the street at night, entering an elevator with a strange man, waiting for a bus in a deserted area, the list goes on and on…). I also later learned that there has been great mobilization throughout South Africa around these issues, with campaigns like Red My Lips and #NakedProtests demanding an end to sexual violence and harassment on university campuses.

But when I arrived in South Africa mid-February I didn’t have much of this worked out. I created the first iteration of (UN)BRIDALED in 2014 in LA with an all-Latina cast. The original work was specific to our experience as Latina women in the US, coming from immigrant families and feeling the effects of patriarchy in a distinct way from other US-based women. Similarly, my intention in transporting the show to SA was to create a new work that spoke to the particular plight of women in South Africa, exposing and challenging how patriarchy reared its ugly head into their lives. Pretty ambitious (and possibly pretentious) of me, considering I had never been to South Africa before, or hell, the African continent at all. But hey, I was open to the process, and fairly certain that SA hadn’t somehow magically found a way to keep itself immune from patriarchy (ehem… Apartheid anyone? ‘isms tend to go hand in hand after all), so I thought, “why not give it a shot?”.

At the end of February, I auditioned about 35 people for a show I was tentatively calling (UN)BRIDALED (RE)MIXED, unsure of how much I would keep from the original work and how much I would be able to generate here. I called back 16 performers, and ended up casting 9 incredibly talented and diverse women- 4 current students at Wits School of the Arts, 3 recent graduates, 1 lecturer from the school, and 2 guest artists with no affiliation to Wits, all of varying racial backgrounds (3 whites, 4 blacks, 2 “coloured's” or people of mixed race) and performance training (mostly physical theatre, some musical theatre, and very little formal dance experience). I remember starting rehearsals in early March and wondering all kinds of things - will the group vibe and get along? Will they be familiar with and/or open to feminist theories like Audre Lorde’s “erotic as power”? Will they be strong enough dancers to carry an evening-length dance theater work? Will we have enough time to actually create a whole new show together? (and on my bad days…) Is this a total mistake and will it be a complete disaster???

As hopeful as I was, I could have never predicted just how incredible, transformative and rewarding the process actually ended up being for all of us.

In the span of two months, the 9 cast members bravely shared their stories of what it is like to be a young woman in South Africa, revealing common themes of gender violence, sexual harassment and expectations of a submissive and domestic female role.  Using Liz Lermans’ “Harvesting Intuition” exercises and the Dance Exchange’s toolbox for phrase-making, we interviewed each other and created choreography about moments in our lives when we have had to forcedly say “NO”, when we have excitedly said “YES”, and when we have been fed up beyond belief and proclaimed “I DON’T GIVE A FUCK”.

We called upon the fierce and fearless energy of Iansã (Afro-Brazilian goddess of the winds and storms), tested the limits of our bodies, challenged each other to take up space, to not give a fuck, to sway our hips, hold our heads high and unapologetically express the full sensuality of our bodies. We toiled, sweated, laughed, cried, and transformed together through this deeply intimate and vulnerable dance-making process.  The result was a reflection of this very process- an honest and brave portrait of the complexity of women’s agency, when it is a force to be reckoned with and backed up by the strength of a thousand women in solidarity, and when it is daily chipped away, thwarted, and aggressively attacked by strangers and people we love.

Some of my favorite memories from our process together will always be the performances themselves. Sure, the standing ovations, audience members laughing and crying, the praise, gratitude and congratulations we received at the end of each show were all remarkable and overwhelming to say the least. But perhaps what I enjoyed even more were the conversations we shared before each show, when I asked the cast to share a piece of feedback they got from the night before and a lesson they learned from performing the work.

I will leave you here, with some of my favorite lessons…

  • Breathe. Never underestimate the power of breathing onstage.
  • Be interestED in what you are doing, worry less about appearing interestING to the audience. (this one I need to credit Victoria Marks… thanks Vic)
  • Women who are unapologetically not giving a fuck onstage will make most men uncomfortable… and that is a good thing.
  • Comedy and tragedy are not on opposite ends of the performance spectrum, they are, in fact, neighbors who live side by side. Use the first as a strategy to approach the latter.
  • Audiences are sick of sitting through shows that are too long and too heavy- trick them into engaging with heavy subject matter by making them laugh, and leave them wanting more. 
  • An energetic and responsive audience is something to celebrate and vibe off of.
  • There is no such thing as “messing up” onstage. Live performance is literally being created LIVE, in THAT moment – it will never be the same again, not your body, not the audience, not what happened that day, not anything. So there is no use in attempting to recreate the same experience again. All mistakes are opportunities. Be present, notice, respond. 

Marina Magalhães, Dance-maker, Santa Cruz, CA, 95064, United States
Cart (0)