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S.T.A.C.K.E.D Dance Score

Middle of this stage, I am stacked; ready to defend.

There’s bondage around my body: the constructs of my identity & character.

Implicit is the color of your glare. You badly want to covet me, yet you equate my value to dog shit underneath your feet.

My breast; protruding. Tight ass garment, but I’m cute though.

My posterior extends like my sister Sarah Baartman — however you will not cut me open upon my death.

My stereotypes appear above my head.

You’ve compartmentalized me. I sway side to side like Mortal Kombat.

The color of my glare is rage, yet the inside… my adolescent voice shivering, needing protection.

You audience me in provocative understanding. To co-opt or opt out?

You want this smoke…

Chocolate melanin with the ability to create all flavors of life forms.

Balanchine who?

I move my body in stimulating positions with ancestral soul.

My thighs quake the earth with every stride of my chasse.

With grace, with ferocious pride; I am aware of my sensuality. Twist to the floor, the show you salivate for, the assets of my frame my hips thrust, leave the cornbread-fed parts of me rebounding perfectly.

That smoke you desire yet fear.

I finish & stand with my right leg tendu derrière.

Lifting my core, I draw my leg into passe, grab my ankle and extend. 180 degrees. Yes, this temple is magic.

That smoke you desire yet fear.

By CiCi Kelley

Editor & Advisor: Claudia La Rocca, Languaging The Contemporary UArts MFA


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