Outside Flamenco, I Am Still Myself

There are things I find easier to express through dance than through words. This is one of them.

Many of you know me from teaching, dancing, or talking with other artists. In that world, I feel open, confident, and able to approach people. Perhaps that is why you imagine I am like that everywhere.

But there is another side of me I want to share with you.

An evening at the Embassy

On October 8, I attended the reception for Spain’s National Day, organized by the Spanish Embassy in Tokyo. In nearly thirty years of living in Japan, it was my first reception of this kind. Someone at the Embassy had kindly invited me, and I was grateful to be included.

Before going inside, I was able to chat briefly with people I had known for a long time. They were working on the organization of the event. Then I entered and found myself surrounded by people I did not know.

I did not know how to approach anyone. Or what to say.

In flamenco, I talk with audiences, artists, and the people around me. There is always something to start from. There, I struggled to find it. Standing among businesspeople and people from the Embassy, a familiar feeling returned: that I was somehow less than them, that my work was worth less than theirs.

No one said anything of the sort to me. I do not want to suggest they thought that way. It was something happening inside me.

I stayed for about half an hour and left. I did not even manage to greet the person who had invited me.

When I struggle to find my place

And it does not happen only at receptions. I feel this way when I enter a workplace outside flamenco for the first time, or when someone invites me into their home and I know I will be out of my element. Sometimes I cancel because I am afraid of making a bad impression. I worry that I will not know what to say or where I belong.

It might look like a lack of interest. That is why I wanted to explain: sometimes accepting an invitation is difficult, even when I am genuinely thankful that someone thought of me.

Both sides of me

When I dance, I feel more at home. The same is true when I teach. That joy is real; I am not pretending when you see me enjoying myself. But the man who falls silent among strangers, who feels afraid, and who sometimes leaves early is real too.

Both sides are part of me.

“I don’t know how to value myself.”

As I was talking about what happened, a sentence came out: “I don’t know how to value myself.” Outside my own world, there are moments when I struggle to recognize the worth of what I do and who I am.

I have not worked this out. I would like to enter those places more calmly and talk without feeling that I have anything to prove. For now, it is still difficult.

Thank you for inviting me

To the person who invited me, thank you for thinking of me. I would have liked to greet you and spend some time together. Leaving early was not a lack of gratitude. I simply found it difficult to find my place in such a crowd.

To those reading this

And to all of you reading this, I wanted to show you this side of me. Sometimes the man who looks so confident when he dances could also use an encouraging word, a pat on the back, or someone who comes over and starts a conversation.

If you have ever felt this way, I would love to hear from you. Knowing that someone understands can give us a little courage for the next time.

AlitaDePollo