My daughter and I attended a wedding this past weekend. Lovely painted fans were made available for the guests. It was an outdoor wedding, and the kids had spent most of the time running and playing. Late in the afternoon, Brhiannon approached the bride, after the bride had gotten into more casual clothes, and asked, “Are you the bride?” When my friend said yes, Brhiannon started to dance in front of her with two fans, singing loudly, “Congratulations!”
My friend loved this and told me about it afterwards. What is interesting is what my daughter told me afterwards. She said some of the girls who were watching her remarked to her later that she wasn’t all that and that she wasn’t as great a dancer as she thought.
Brhiannon didn’t know what to say. She just walked away.
Her dancing wasn’t directed at them. She never made any mention about her level of expertise or skill or how she thought she fared in relation to them or anyone else.
She just danced for the fun of it, for the creativity of it, and for the expression of it. Some things are too big to fit into words.
Like when our bunny of 13 years died in my arms, we lovingly wrapped him in a small blanket, and placed him in the center or our little living room. I asked her what she wanted to do.
Brhiannon went to the CD player and put on Asian music of female singers. She and I danced around the body of our bunny. We danced his soul to heaven and danced our grief…but with each circle around our little friend, our dancing miraculously and joyfully turned into a dance of celebration. When we finally stopped, we were exhausted and smiling.
And when the bride had told me about how Brhiannon danced with the fans for her, I knew exactly where she was coming from. I knew the raising of the fans and her movements and singing were to express a happiness for the bride that was too big to be carried on words or encompassed with a handshake or hug.
But it pissed these other little girls off. They were offended, and enough to defend themselves against an indictment she didn’t make.
In their world, she was coloring outside the lines. She was doing something unusual, and therefore uncool.
It miffed Brhiannon enough to tell me about it. She said she thought the other girls were jealous.
I said, perhaps they envied her ability to be so free while they were so self conscious. But the most important thing I shared with her is that jealousy is always a reflection of the person jealous, a window into the insecurity they felt within themselves.
There was another girl Brhiannon hung out with the rest of that afternoon. Someone who didn’t mind a girl who would sing and dance with fans.
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