By Manniah Harrison
I remember the moment when I knew I wanted to be a dancer.
I was walking beside my mom to the corner store on Seventh Street, in my small home town of Hanford, California. As we reached the corner, my eyes gazed through a building with a big glass window, that had sheer white curtains and yellow walls. I stopped my mom in her tracks and pointed to a silhouette of a pink ballerina on pointe. The dancer had one hand on a bar mounted to the wall. The other hand was lifted and an instructor repositioned it. I was in awe, and I think my mom could see the glow in my eyes as I told her, “I want to do that,” because the following week, she registered me for my first tap class at the age of seven. That one-room, boxy building was to become my second home for the next seven years. I expanded my range and took up different styles like Hip hop, Jazz, Contemporary and even became the first girl break dancer within my studio.
UCSB Digital Journalism student Manniah Harrison reflects on her childhood passion, dancing, which she later rediscovered through a UCSB dance class.
Flash forward, and I’m a 20-year-old anthropology major studying at UC Santa Barbara, who had stopped dancing years ago, when I entered high school. At UCSB, I spontaneously registered for an intermediate modern dance class to fulfill unit requirement. On the first day of instruction, I opened the door to a huge studio in the Dance and Theatre building wearing a green athletic dress — actually a skort — while a pool of dancers, bundled in sweats, were stretching on th floor. In the introduction circle, I found I was one of just three students out of 40 who were not majoring in Dance. A feeling of intimidation hit me and suddenly all my earlier years of dance knowledge seemed to slip away. These dancers are studying and practicing their craft at a higher level every day. “She has no business being here,” was my internal dialogue. But by the time the course ended, I had not only become a semi expert on the history of Jazz, I had learned how to rewire my brain, and tune into my emotions and body.
Manniah Harrison, UCSB anthropology student, pictured at a dance event during childhood.
My childhood studio was called P.A.T.Y., which stood for Praise, Arts, Talent, and Youth, and it was the only faith-based dance company in town. Although I believed in God because I grew up Christian, at that age I couldn’t fully grasp the concept of “Praise.” I just knew I loved dancing and did it for those who liked to watch me. Many did, and performing became the highlight of my young dance career. I danced at our local farmers market, California pizza festivals, and several charity events. Dancing was a way to give back to the community and created a sense of purpose. Not only did I dance to music, but I was able to center myself with core values of the studio. It set me on a path to my current passion for expression, movement and art. It not only introduced me to the pink ballerina and her instructor, but to some of the best friends I have today. I give lots of credit to this studio, because it fueled me as a little girl and created a space for me to grow.
Then in high school, I stopped performing. I became an athlete and immersed myself in sports where I could make the team. Track, Cheer, Soccer —I did it all. I was the youngest of three kids raised by a single mom, which meant extracurriculars were the only way to stay out of the way. But I loved it.
Manniah Harrison, UCSB anthropology student, performing at a dance competition with P.A.T.Y. studio as a child. She later enrolled in a UCSB Dance class.
Now, as a third-year university student immersing myself in womanhood and academia, I realized I had lost what had fueled me — at least until I took that UCSB dance class. Through the 10-week course, I felt a sense of awakening. Experiencing new ways to dance, hearing new music, and learning from my peers. It brought me out of my comfort zone. Before the class, I had spent my time stuck in my head, functioning in an intellectual program with a school-work mindset and unintentionally blocking out my passions.
But a dance class allows one to spend time being fully in your body —tuning into how your muscles and mood feel each day and creating techniques to accommodate them, coordinating motion to music and focusing on your breath. I was not only learning to reconnect to my mind and body, but also to my spirit. I was able to say ‘Hi’ to the younger me and remember what fueled her. I also recommend dance to those who have never done it before. Some say in college you find yourself. But I think you find only parts of you. Still, more is revealed if you seek experiences beyond what you know or once knew, to venture into a world you never knew.