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Lo Bailado Nadie Me Lo Quita: A Reflection on Zoot Suit

8/24/2019

There is a quote in Spanish I heard growing up that says, “Lo bailado, nadie me lo quita” which roughly translates to “what I’ve danced, no one can take away from me”. This is what I walked away with feeling at our final bows last Sunday. I can't summarize everything this production of Zoot Suit has done for me but I feel the need to share a couple of thoughts if only to look back and reflect on the tremendous impact it's had on me as an artist and human being.
  Zoot Suit by Luis Valdez is a stand-out piece of theatrical work I had the pleasure of performing many years ago with Teatro Project. So the minute I heard about the show being produced with Shakespeare OC and Santa Ana College I jumped to the opportunity. What shook me, however, was how much more connected I felt to the story this time. Not only had I experienced the loss of friends and family (some in situations much like Henry in the play) since the last time, but the political climate of the 1940’s was dangerously familiar to that of today. There was an urgency to tell this story from the cast that translated to engaged audiences, many of whom left inspired to learn more about the Sleepy Lagoon case, about the pachucada, and on how to be better allies/accomplices to the most disenfranchised and thus vulnerable communities in the US today.
I don’t remember ever feeling so connected to a group of people in a production in my life. We bonded so much over the course of rehearsals and the shows only solidified our relationships. We learned to trust one another and support one another on and off the stage. Whether we needed cough drops, rides, shoes, mic tape, tissues, advice, memes, you name it—we had each others backs. What took it to the next level for me though was when we went out to dinner together at a restaurant and danced the night away after having performed two shows that day. Music and dance is a really big part of the culture back where my parents are from in Mexico, sometimes even used to celebrate and honor the life of loved ones after they’ve passed away. So when I heard the zapateado, the big band instruments blaring from the speakers and our feet hitting the floor to match the rhythm, I felt connected to these people in a way I’ve only felt with family. Together we were celebrating one another, the play, and the legacy of those who came before us.
This production also gave me the gift of growth. They say you can’t heal what you don’t reveal and my goodness, did I reveal a lot about myself. Playing a Pachuca Girl was a big challenge that brought up a lot of insecurities about my body and my abilities as a dancer and singer. There were days where I felt like giving up because I didn’t feel like I was doing enough to keep up with my talented pachucas. In the end I had to remember that I was chosen for a reason and that I was enough. I had gone to far and sacrificed so much to give up so easily. I have to thank my director Amberley Chamberlain, musical director Roberto Alcaraz and choreographer Cyrian Reed for seeing something in me that I didn’t quite see when my mind was clouded by self-doubt. They refused to give up on me and that kept me motivated to show up with more energy every time. I immersed myself in the character I created and reminded myself that it wasn’t about me but about telling a story that needed to be told.
  Today my friend Jesus told me he pointed me out to his niece when they saw the show because he wanted her to see someone that looked like her on stage. It was never about me, I thought, it was for her and anyone who identified with me and could leave inspired and to say, I could do that too. Thank you to all those who came out to support this production! My community came through in a big way, sometimes surprising me by coming multiple times and bringing their partners, co-workers, friends, nieces and nephews, parents and even grandparents. They all left connected to the story and inspired by seeing such talented brilliant faces light up the stage to tell this incredibly profound story. My own sweet mother fangirled over my castmates and wanted pictures with them at closing. She felt the story of her goddson honored and wanted to congratulate everyone on their performance.
I'm not the same person that I was nine weeks ago. I feel tender and light and with a whole new perspective on life. Lo bailado nadie me lo quita. In a world literally and figuratively on fire, we created something beautiful and authentic and this is what true storytelling is about.
I leave you with some words by the great writer Toni Morrison who passed away earlier this month, about the power of loving what others may not see as worthy . It is from this place that I choose to move forward.

“In this here place, we flesh; flesh that weeps, laughs; flesh that dances on bare feet in grass. Love it. Love it hard. Yonder they do not love your flesh. They despise it. They don't love your eyes; they'd just as soon pick em out. No more do they love the skin on your back. Yonder they flay it. And O my people they do not love your hands. Those they only use, tie, bind, chop off and leave empty. Love your hands! Love them. Raise them up and kiss them. Touch others with them, pat them together, stroke them on your face 'cause they don't love that either. You got to love it, you! And no, they ain't in love with your mouth. Yonder, out there, they will see it broken and break it again. What you say out of it they will not heed. What you scream from it they do not hear. What you put into it to nourish your body they will snatch away and give you leavins instead. No, they don't love your mouth. You got to love it. This is flesh I'm talking about here. Flesh that needs to be loved. Feet that need to rest and to dance; backs that need support; shoulders that need arms, strong arms I'm telling you. And O my people, out yonder, hear me, they do not love your neck unnoosed and straight. So love your neck; put a hand on it, grace it, stroke it and hold it up. and all your inside parts that they'd just as soon slop for hogs, you got to love them. The dark, dark liver--love it, love it and the beat and beating heart, love that too. More than eyes or feet. More than lungs that have yet to draw free air. More than your life-holding womb and your life-giving private parts, hear me now, love your heart. For this is the prize.”
- Toni Morrison, Beloved

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