The moment I first stepped into my local Zumba class, I felt a moment of embarrassment. For decades I was the youngest person there. Did I really belong?
But I thought I’d give it a try anyway. I got tired of the intensity and competition of workout classes with people my age who were ready to start something different. As a young woman disabled by a chronic illness, I have a complicated relationship with my body. I was born with cystic fibrosis (CF). This is a severe genetic respiratory disease that causes a buildup of sticky mucus in various organs. Thanks to my relatively mild mutation, I can enjoy the same physical health as any other 20-something, at least in the short term, as long as I keep up with my medications and treatments. I played on sports teams, hiked the Camino de Santiago in Spain, trekked the Andes in Peru, and danced until the early hours of the morning in nightclubs around the world. But every few years, my condition started to worsen, leading to worsening respiratory infections and eventually ending up in the hospital for what CF-ers call an “adjustment,” or weeks in the hospital on IV antibiotics. It will be. I have also dealt with fibromyalgia, POTS, stomach ulcers, cluster headaches, 10 sinus surgeries, and other types of illnesses throughout my life. For this reason, I feel a great deal of resentment towards my body.
Part of that resentment comes from comparing yourself to people your own age. I may look like a normal 27-year-old on the outside, but on the inside I am battling an almost constant illness. While many of my colleagues are training to run marathons or showcasing their fitness progress on social media, I spend months so tired that even a gentle yoga class It almost feels like an impossible challenge. That’s why after a recent adjustment, I made it my mission to adjust my relationship with my body. After months of trying out different activities, I unexpectedly found joy in movement again. It’s a Zumba class with people more than twice my age.
The first Zumba class I took at a local Pilates studio was unexpectedly hard. In Zumba, participants follow an instructor’s dance moves in real time rather than learning and practicing choreography. Between the aerobic nature of Zumba and the trip-inducing mental workout, I felt clearly out of my element. But there was something about dancing to upbeat music without the pressure of performance that reminded me of my days as a wild backpacker clubbing around the world, so I kept going. . A few months later, I found my current class being held in a building at a local park.
When I entered the room, there were already a few dozen dancers there, most of whom appeared to be in their 60s or 70s, and all of whom appeared to be longtime friends. But when I got to the dance floor, everyone greeted me with warm smiles. Several students in my class came to introduce themselves, and one woman asked me to wear a jingling hip scarf on the condition that I shake my hips harder so she could hear me from across the room. provided it to me.
As I danced, I felt like I was freed from embarrassment. Unlike other fitness classes I’ve attended, I didn’t see any self-consciousness or competitiveness here, just joy. As their favorite songs played, some participants ran up to the stage to join the instructor, while the rest of the participants cheered and cheered, shouting their names. At one point, the choreography included them running around the room exchanging high-fives, and each chorus of “Wavin’ Flag” had the dancer next to them yelling, “You get stronger as you get older.” I finished the class feeling lighter both physically and mentally.
I’ve been going to Zumba classes as often as I can for the past year or so. It’s more than just an exercise class, it’s a community. I have seen this group rally behind its members, coming together to celebrate each other’s life events and help when someone is sick or injured. Outside of class, the group meets for brunches, holiday parties, and other gatherings that I hope to attend someday.
This class not only gave me a community to belong to, but also helped me change my relationship with my body. Like many of the older men and women I dance with, I’m just there to exercise and have fun. Who cares if I miss a step or am so tired I can barely wave my hands above my head?
This contagious unconsciousness of the Zumba community has seeped into other parts of my life as well. When you go to a fitness or yoga class, you’ll no longer be embarrassed to modify your movements or take breaks when you need to. I feel proud that I am working with my body instead of fighting it to maintain my ego. I stopped trying to hide the medication I have to take with every meal because of my CF, or the fact that I start work at 10am because I need to sleep to feel better. To people who don’t know I’m sick, I may seem lazy or weak, but I feel safe knowing that I’m showing up and doing my best. Thanks to Zumba classes, I learned that that’s not enough.
