Mariya Omelicheva

I grew up in a highly centralized communist state, where many things were free but in a limited supply. To teach a kid how to dance cost almost nothing: the government through its multiple agencies allocated funds to educational, cultural, and art establishments. Yet, an opportunity to learn how to dance was open to only those children who exhibited required skills for dancing. Limited resources necessitated auditioning for dance classes and led to professionalization of arts. With regard to dancing it meant that one had to either excel in dancing at the almost professional level or stay away from dancing all together.

As a child, I happened to display more musical than dancing talent and was ‘relegated’ to the musical school instead of the dance studio. Yet, a strong desire for dancing never vanished because, at that time, it was nourished by a belief in that socially imposed standards of graciousness and beauty look could only be achieved through dancing. Thus, my initial “love for dancing” was externally driven. It took me years to develop internal appreciation of different forms of dance.

After the fall of the communism, many schools and studios were privatized. Having lost governmental funding, they had to find ways to finance their activities. Teaching classes to anybody who was able and willing to pay was the only route to survival. It was only in 1998 when I got a chance to enroll in ballroom classes for adults. When I arrived into the US in 2000, I intended to continue my ballroom experience with the Purdue Ballroom team. However, rigidities of dancing style as well as a required participation in competitions drove me away from the ballroom. Instead, I turned to lindy-hop and swing. It was not the dance itself that was appealing to me but the people I danced with. Dancing with the swing club helped me to establish strong friendship ties and, importantly, it laid down a very strong foundation of leading/following techniques, balance, feeling of the ‘center’, and other fundamentals of dancing. When the people I danced with graduated, I found myself loosing interest in lindy-hop. This is when I had my first Salsa dance during one of the Latin dance parties. It seemed fun and easy. Weekly trips to Chicago for swing jams and practices paid off – I picked up the footwork very fast and had no problem following the patterns of an intermediate level. Very soon, I was offered to help with the instruction for a newly established Purdue Salsa Club.

I have danced Salsa for only 3 years. I started as a beginner, and moved into instructing Salsa classes at different levels, leading the Purdue Salsa club, and, recently, making first attempts at choreographing performances. The factor determining this swift entry of Salsa into my life was the perfect match of the character of the dance to my personality combined with personal interest and admiration of my Salsa teacher. A mind of a scientists and occupation of a teacher led me to explore the dance from different angles. Having reached a certain level of Salsa dancing, I realized that the only way to improve further was by returning to the fundamentals of dancing – techniques, posture, engagements of right muscles, etc. I also realized that I could not enjoy and appreciate the dance unless I knew its history and essence. Thus, I turned to ferreting out the roots of Salsa rhythm, tunes, and the past of Salsa music and dancing. Salsa has become an important part of my identity. I have managed to fuse it with daily routines of my private and professional life. Dancing salsa, exercising, walking light, and sitting straight reinforce one another. The inspiration for work comes after a night of good dancing or Salsa classes and practices. Seeing people opening up through the dance or finding friends and significant others through the Club that I lead makes my life more meaningful and fulfilling.