Dancing Badly on Purpose: A Reclamation

From Pirouettes to Pure Chaos

I grew up doing ‘proper’ dancing – ballet, ballroom, jazz – the kind with tights, mirrors, and passive-aggressive mothers in the foyer. I was elegant. I was rhythmic. I once got a trophy for my cha cha. And now? I dance like I’ve been possessed by an ancient disco demon. On purpose.

You see, when you grow up being good at dancing, you also become a menace at home dance parties. Because you spend so much time perfecting technique and counting beats and trying to look elegant (oops), that when it’s time to just move? You go full chaos goblin. Elbows sharp, legs flailing, hair stuck to your lip gloss. Think: inflatable tube man outside a used car yard. That’s me. And I am proud.

Nowhere was this more evident than the time I was dancing in the lounge room with my nieces. They’re twenty years younger than me, and at the time full of pre-teen angst and Lady Gaga energy. We had one of those wild, giddy nights where you chuck on mum’s old records and the room turns into a time machine. 60s, 70s, 80s disco hits rattling through the walls. We’re jumping, laughing, being ridiculous. At one point, I say, “Alright girls, let’s actually dance properly for a second. You’ve got a school disco coming up, let me show you some moves.” And they look at me, scandalised. “We are dancing properly, Aunty Bry!” Cue horror. I had created two rhythmless beings. My legacy. Oops.

Healing Isn’t Always Pretty

Here’s the thing no one tells you: when you stop performing, you start healing. Movement isn’t just about choreography. It’s not always pliés and jazz hands. It can be raw. Grotesque. Awkward. Freeing. Dance has existed in every culture throughout history, long before TikTok and trophies. It was a ritual. A celebration. A mourning. A way to process the unspeakable through the body.

And then the patriarchy got involved and turned it into something women had to be good at to be allowed to enjoy. Suddenly it’s all about choreography and whether your thighs jiggle too much in bike shorts. Dance became performative. Structured. Pretty. And like most things women love or use to connect to themselves, it was co-opted. Controlled. Turned into something to be judged.

Dancing badly on purpose, then, becomes radical. A reclamation. A reminder that your body exists for you. That it doesn’t have to move in ways that please anyone else. You get to flail. You get to stomp. You get to wiggle your hips like you’re trying to detach them. Because sometimes that’s what healing looks like. Not perfect. Not poised. Just present.

Your Body Is Not a Performance Piece

As women, we’re taught early on to curate our physicality. Sit nicely. Don’t take up too much space. Cross your legs. Smile. We’re socialised into becoming little ballerinas cast in a performance we never auditioned for. And when that recital ends? We forget how to just be. We forget that movement isn’t about optics. It’s about feeling.

Dancing with wild abandon reminds you what your body is for. It’s not decoration. It’s not a silent servant. It’s not just something to squeeze into shapewear or hide under oversized jumpers. It is yours. A vessel of joy. A translator of your emotions. A home that you get to inhabit, even when you feel like a stranger in it.

When I dance badly, I come back to myself. I let the trauma trapped in my shoulders melt into movement. I roll my spine, not for technique, but because it feels right. I let my hair whip around like I’m in an 80s music video and I don’t care how stupid I look. Because for those few minutes, I am free. Not consumed by the gaze of others. Not a woman trying to shrink herself to be acceptable. Just a human being moving.

From Ritual to Resistance

Across the world, dance has always held sacred space. From the haka to belly dancing, from West African ceremonies to Indigenous corroborees, movement has always been tied to meaning. We danced to honour ancestors. To summon rain. To process grief. To bring communities together. These rituals weren’t about aesthetics. They were about connection. Embodiment. Transcendence.

But colonisation, capitalism and cultural whitewashing severed that connection for so many. Dance became reserved for studios and competitions. A commodified version of what once belonged to everyone. That loss is deep. It’s generational. And it shows up in the way so many of us feel awkward moving our bodies in public unless we’ve rehearsed it.

Reclaiming dance as something wild and personal, rather than structured and performative, is an act of rebellion. It says: I am allowed to take up space. I am allowed to feel. I am allowed to return to my body without asking for permission. Even if that means looking like I’m auditioning for interpretive dance theatre in the middle of my lounge room. Even if my nieces think I’m a bit weird. Especially then.

So Go On, Shake It

Every now and then, I find myself twirling through my flat like a woman possessed. I’ll do a dramatic spin into the kitchen, nearly knock over Lulu (who judges me deeply), and finish with a neat little curtsey. I am not doing it for anyone. There’s no choreography. Just movement. Just joy.

I still dance properly, of course. I still have the steps memorised. I can still cha cha with the best of them. But these days, I save the routines for when I want to do them, not when I feel I should. Because my body doesn’t need to earn the right to move. She doesn’t need to prove anything. She gets to exist. And she gets to feel good while doing it.

So dance badly on purpose. Be silly. Be sacred. Be a mess. Don’t wait for permission. Don’t wait until you’re drunk enough or alone enough or good enough. Your body is already enough. And she deserves to feel like home. Put the music on. Flail. Spin. Heal. Look ridiculous. That’s the whole point. Not to impress – just to feel like you’re alive again..

And to my nieces? I’m sorry for ruining your rhythm. But I hope you never forget how powerful it is to move like no one is watching. Especially when someone is.

You Are Not Entitled to an Answer – Chaos, Crumbs and Clarity

In this episode of Chaos, Crumbs and Clarity, we're unpacking why you are not entitled to an answer. Specifically, we're talking about the strange little corner of modern dating where a few days of app chat somehow becomes an emotional contract, and suddenly a man you've never met believes your silence requires a formal explanation, a debrief, and possibly a follow-up meeting with management.I have two stories for you. One man who talked almost exclusively about himself, ignored the fact that I was sick, and then followed up a week later asking whether I'd reconsidered his "request for clarification". And another who became offended because I didn't respond to his selfie within two hours while I was lying in a dark room with a migraine. Sir. Please be serious.Because here's the thing. Before you've met someone, you do not owe them unlimited access to your time, attention, reassurance, or emotional labour. You don't have to justify why the vibes changed. You don't need a reason they'll consider reasonable. You are allowed to disengage because something felt off, because you changed your mind, because you met someone else, or because you're in your luteal phase and frankly the entire world can wait.Today we're talking about the difference between ghosting and simply disengaging, why demanding closure can become a boundary violation, the exhausting expectation that women should manage men's feelings for them, and why you do not need to JADE, justify, argue, defend, or explain, when you've already decided you're done. Let's get into it.Key Takeaways:A few days of chatting does not create a debt. Matching on an app, exchanging messages, or talking on the phone does not give someone a claim on your attention. Until you've actually built a connection, you are allowed to walk away without submitting supporting documentation.Closure is not something another person can demand from you. Asking once is one thing. Continuing to push after someone has clearly disengaged is not persistence or emotional maturity. It's refusing to accept the answer you've already been given.You do not need to JADE. You don't have to justify, argue, defend, or explain why you're no longer interested. The reason doesn't have to be good enough for him. It just has to be yours.Pre-date silence and post-date silence are not the same thing. If you've never met, disengaging is part of app dating. Once you've shared an actual date or developed a genuine connection, a simple goodbye becomes basic courtesy. Nobody needs a dissertation, but acknowledging another human being matters.Sometimes they don't miss you. They miss the audience. Someone can seem interested while actually being interested in having your attention. Real connection requires curiosity about you. If the only time they become deeply engaged is when you're leaving, pay attention to that.For more visit ⁠BryJaimea.com⁠ or follow over on IG ⁠@BryJaimea

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