The Cocoon: December 2024
Let's do a curtsy squat war dance
The day after the election I went to Mexico for a retreat: 5 days of somatic movement, yoga, breathwork, writing, reading in a hammock, lying by the pool, and shellshocked commiseration with about 30 other women. The trip was planned many months ago, and the post-election timing was a complete coincidence.
Except I don’t believe in coincidence.
Some of us were sitting squarely in our anger or our fear or our disbelief. Some of us felt pulled back into the world; some of us were on hiatus. Some of our conversations tipped effortlessly into rants and tears and strategy. Sometimes we were so absent from the world, so ensconced in literal retreat, that it was possible to forget for a second what was waiting for us back home.
Every morning we were led through a two-hour class on the veranda of Hacienda Itzincab Cámara. We faced the jungle and all its lush, verdant juiciness. There was a lot of crying and sweating and yelling. (I’ve written about what The Class is like before.)
One of the teachers repeatedly told us “rest is resistance,” and I tried to practice that. I knew I was not ready to engage yet. I reminded myself that when I don’t know what to do it is okay to do nothing. I trusted I would know what to do when it was time to do it.
On the first full day, our teacher included a set of curtsy squats in the sequence. I didn’t think anything of it.
But when we did curtsy squats again the second day, I took notice. There are some moves we do in every Class: squats, burpees, jumping jacks. The curtsy squat is not one of them. To do them two days in a row felt intentional. This was a choice.
Why are we doing these again? I wondered. And why am I noticing?
A curtsy is a gendered bodily gesture, the female equivalent of a bow. It’s a movement of deference, of etiquette, of manners and mannerisms, a movement that says you know your place in the social hierarchy. It’s a weapon of white femininity: a system I was indoctrinated into from childhood, wearing white gloves as I curtsied in ballroom dance classes at the local country club. It is a system I benefit from even as I disavow it. I have been especially sickened by it since 2016 and am all over again now.
But a curtsy squat is a different thing. Instead of the graceful glide through second position that I grew up doing at the end of every ballet class (I’ve written about my ballet trauma too), or even the slow version a bodybuilder might do, The Class has reimagined the curtsy squat. In The Class it is a primal movement done over and over on the beat for an entire song. Instead of extending our arms to either side and lowering our heads, with each iteration in The Class we throw our arms down towards the floor and make guttural sounds on every exhale. It becomes a feral movement, and I feel dangerous and intimidating when I do it.
As we did that second set of curtsy squats on the hacienda veranda, and I contemplated why this was happening–again–it occurred to me that we had repurposed the curtsy. This was not the prim, oppressively feminine movement of courtship and court dances. What would we look like to someone watching us from the jungle? I wondered.
I pictured us from the outside and thought, We have turned these curtsies into a war dance.
I felt pretty proud of myself for this epiphany. Certainly many of us were more than ready for a war dance, eager to be feral and dangerous and intimidating. The observation felt apt.
And then on the third day, we did curtsy squats again.
You’ve got to be kidding me, I thought. Apparently there was more I was supposed to get. Apparently my self-satisfaction was premature. What else? I asked myself. What else, what else, what else is there to see about curtsies?
And then it came to me, whole and complete:
Maybe we let them THINK it’s a curtsy.
Maybe we do a war dance that masquerades as deference.
Maybe we secretly stir our cauldron.
Maybe we bide our time.
I know we need new tactics. I don’t know what your war dance is or how you might disguise it as a curtsy. Ultimately, I think we are all going to have to figure that out for ourselves.
If you’re an educator, this might mean making choices about when to acquiesce and when to challenge, when to shield your students and staff from mandates and when to activate them in opposition, when to turn books banned from your curriculum into independent reading options, when to launch a book club or a study group or a day of community action.
Over the past month I’ve thought a lot about my war dance and my curtsy, and here’s what I’ve come to: it’s time to start sharing the tales and takeaways from my first year of mid-40s, post-divorce, perimenopausal, red-state dating.
This is my curtsy.
I could tell you what the war dance is, but then that wouldn’t make it much of a curtsy, would it?
I will tell you that I’m excited–and also really nervous–to write about the transformations in my personal life. My goal is that at least 100 of you will join me by January 31, and I hope you’re one of them. The Cocoon community is so important to me, and I’m grateful for every single one of you who hangs out here.
The new weekly edition will officially launch in January, but I want to share a preview first. Next Tuesday you’ll receive a free sample of what you can expect if you join me in this new venture.
Your turn:
If you have 5 minutes:
If you have 10 minutes: Share a comment. First draft thoughts are welcome!
If you have 30 minutes: Schedule time on my calendar to chat about curtsies, war dances, or anything else. It’s a free half-hour of thought partnership!
Getting Schooled
What I’ve been seeing and thinking about in my recent work with educators
I visited an outdoor school where the principal drove us to classes in a golf cart. I got to see students climbing trees, walking across tightropes, and belaying each other. In Massachusetts. In November. And I desperately wanted to join them.
I got to help a school in Los Angeles think about what it means for students to be the drivers of their own learning when that learning is asynchronous. It’s a tough question that educators have been wrestling with for several years, and this school doesn’t want to settle for the online version of worksheets. I was inspired by the staff’s willingness to ask themselves that tough question and to see themselves as learners as well as teachers.
Field Tripping
What I’ve been doing and experiencing on my weekly field trips (2 hours alone with my lifelong learner hat on)
I went to The Athenaeum.
I saw Anora at O Cinema (an absolute masterpiece, a perfect work of art).
I skulked around Skylight Books.
I went to the Miami Book Fair and heard from some of my inspirations, including Stacey Abrams, Kathleen Hanna, Patti Smith, Eddie Glaude Jr., Maya Wiley, Annabelle Tometich, Griffin Dunne, and Dani Shapiro.
I made Claudia Fleming’s pumpkin semifreddo tart from Delectable and added my own maple whipped cream and candied pecans.
Want to try a field trip of your own but not sure how to get started? Schedule time on my calendar and let’s brainstorm together.
Reading Recs
What I’ve been reading and ruminating about
The Mango Tree: A Memoir of Fruit, Florida, and Felony by Annabelle Tometich
Luster by Raven Leilani
Pleasure Activism: The Politics of Feeling Good by adrienne maree brown
Have a Good Trip: Exploring the Magic Mushroom Experience by Eugenia Bone
Diving Into the Wreck: Poems 1971-72 by Adrienne Rich
An Honest Woman: A Memoir of Love and Sex Work by Charlotte Shane
Looking for some more literary gift ideas?
I recently gave a friend a year of books for her 50th birthday. I individually wrapped 12 books and included a note about why I love each one inside an envelope with a teaser. You can make this gift more affordable by buying used books or giving your own pre-loved books. What matters is the time and thought you put into it and the fact that they’ll be reminded of how much they’re loved all year long.
The book I co-wrote on educator burnout makes a great gift for current and aspiring teachers and leaders!
I created this gift guide: 50 of my favorite books to give to my favorite people. Please purchase them from an independent bookstore like Boogie Down Books!
For even more book gift ideas, go here to support indies!
A paid subscription to The Cocoon makes a great gift for anyone who’s heading into their second act, pressing the reset button, or determined to live the next half very differently from the first. Coming in January for paid subscribers only: weekly posts on the pleasures and politics of mid-40s, post-divorce, perimenopausal, red-state dating!
Let’s partner!
I help educators break through their blocks by finding the intersection of effectiveness and sustainability.
I believe educators need to stay connected to their passion and purpose to provide all students with joyful, enchanting, empowering learning experiences–without burning out.
I have more than 2 decades of experience as an educator with deep expertise in leadership and instructional coaching across grade bands and content areas, learner-centered professional development design and facilitation, and teacher team development.
Interested in learning more?
One more thing about cocoons
While I hate the hype around New Year’s Eve and generally avoid anything that purports to be a party, I love the turn from year to year, and I have a whole annual 2-day ritual to mark the transition: on December 31 I reflect on the year that’s ending, and on January 1 I set intentions for the year that’s beginning. You’ll get my free guide to this ritual when you upgrade to a paid subscription for yourself or someone else by December 31.
Boom!