I’m Andria, and I am a medical student at Imperial College, London, but first and foremost, I am a dancer. I trained in Bharatanatyam (Indian classical dance) from the age of six, and I perform Bollywood dances for cultural events and competitions.
Bharatanatyam is traditional, requiring precision and perfection; it taught me respect and discipline and how to simultaneously manage strength and grace. Bollywood dance, on the other hand, in all its splendid extravagance, radiates emotion and self-expression. These dance styles, while being opposites, shaped my identity right through from primary school to university, with dance being an underlying thread keeping me tied to my roots.
I have currently just completed my fourth year of university (my BSc intercalated year) which I chose to spend studying humanities, philosophy, and law. I have spent a significant portion of my life as a creative person rather than an academically rigorous one; therefore, I thought this was the perfect opportunity to dive right back into what I loved.
As part of our course, we were given the chance to carry out a project about anything we were interested in and I found myself back where I started. Dance.
I always find a way to come back to dance.
"Dancers are trained to eat dances - ingest them and make them part of who they are. These are physical memories; when dancers know a dance, they know it in their muscles and bones." Natalia Makarova (Lovatt, 2020, p. 91).
My project supervisor, Yaël, introduced me to the practice of dancing with Parkinson’s, and I wanted to know more.
I researched the benefits of dance on symptom management for people living with Parkinson’s but quickly realised that I wanted to explore people’s personal reasons for dancing. I know why I dance: for fitness, the exhilaration of performing, the joy of connecting with friends, and the pulsating energy of the music. But what was it about these dance classes that was attracting people with Parkinson’s? Was it the love for dance, the symptom relief, or was it the tea and biscuits at the end?
My research revolved around the identities of patients and dancers, as I set off to explore whether people with Parkinson’s experience an identity shift from patient to dancer during dance classes. As dancing is an art, and art needs to be experienced to be understood in all its complexity, I realised my questions would only be answered if I engaged in a dance class myself.
Before each class, I had expectations which were thwarted by the realities. I was nervous before my first class, an online class, as I was unsure how involved I could feel while dancing alone in my living room. However, it turned out to be a fantastic opportunity where I was able to let myself be free and dance like nobody was watching. The dancers were totally immersed in the flow of the dance, detaching themselves from physical aches and pains.
The second class I went to was in-person, giving me a better view on how classes were run. The live piano music paired perfectly with the movements; we gracefully glided through the French Riviera but also sailed on the high seas with the Drunken Sailor. Every step of the way, our bodies were being manipulated to paint images. It was simply beautiful.
I used my experiences from the class and narratives from books like Sara Houston’s Dancing with Parkinson’s to understand the reasons people were dancing. For many people, Parkinson’s distorts their identity as tremors, shaking and out-of-the-ordinary traits take hold. The mind-body connection can feel broken as agency over one’s own body deteriorates.
The coordination and control that blooms through dance allows people to take back the reins of their life. Where they felt dehumanised by Parkinson’s, dance made them feel beautiful. The powerlessness transforms into empowerment, as they attain the freedom to embrace themselves as extraordinary individuals. Dance had transformed the lives of people with Parkinson’s by restoring the joy and self-love that may diminish upon diagnosis.
This shows that the arts can often heal what cannot be healed through medicine.
As part of my project, I also created an art piece that was an identity maze, depicting the multi-faceted journey from patient to dancer. This helped me understand the importance of individuality in the experience of the arts, as no two people experience dancing in the same way.
Working on this project not only made me evaluate myself as a dancer but, more importantly, taught me about the profound impact of the arts in health.
A diagnosis of Parkinson’s is often a defining moment of people’s lives, with clinicians sometimes overwhelming patients with jargon about symptoms and 'disease'.
Turning towards the arts at this time can help to preserve the integrity of people’s identity and the person underneath the diagnosis, highlighting the need to integrate these practices into healthcare.
As a future doctor, I aspire to respect and uphold the identity of a patient beyond the borders of diagnosis and disease, however challenging that may be.
But as a dancer, I hope to one day harness the transformative power of dance to make a positive change in people’s lives.
References
- Houston, S. (2019) Dancing with Parkinson’s. Bristol. [Online]. Intellect Books. Available at: https://www-jstor-org.iclibezp1.cc.ic.ac.uk/stable/j.ctv36xvpvh. (Accessed 16 May 2024)
- Lovatt, P. (2021). ‘Dancing for Joy’. Wellcome Collection [online]. Available at: https://wellcomecollection.org/articles/XcMBBREAACUAtBoV (Accessed 20 May 2024).
Images
- Top image - Andria Saji. Photo: Joyal Joshy, 2023
- Artwork credit - Photo: Andria Saji; “Dance Unbound”
by Andria Saji, 2024.