Dancing On Your Own: A Conversation About Loving Yourself and Everything That Entails

Loving a person is something queer people think of often and deeply. From a history of seeing love as rebellion and resistance to a radical political act to a connection deeper than anything else on earth, queer love is revolution. But what does that mean for self-love? We always talk of loving other queer people, but what about when we have to apply that depth of love to ourselves?

Javan Mngrezzo, a dance artist, educator, and choreographer in the Twin Cities knows the life-long journey of finding self-love even when it’s difficult very well. His queerness, race, gender and his relationship to art all influence the way he’s seen himself over the years.

“I went through what many of us feel like we go through. Being perceived as outside of the norm,” he says. “And while that is already enough to make one tentative to come out, it didn’t help that my specific identity as an African American, gay, cis male came with other unique challenges. But since fully living the truth of my orientation, I haven’t regretted it.”

Living at the intersection of his many identities, Mngrezzo understands what it feels like to be, as he puts it, “a minority in the majority of spaces.”

Recently, he realized that his sexual orientation identity is also gray-sexual, so he adds, “So I operate as a minority not only on the straight/queer spectrum but also on the hyper/asexual spectrum as well.”

This is where his life as a dancer enters (with a flourish). Both as a tool to build a healthy relationship with himself and as a profession that forces you to constantly look into the mirror (literally), Mngrezzo’s experience with dance has been a multi-faceted one.

“I came to dance late — a story you hear with many male-identifying dancers,” he explains. “Growing up, I was studious; a bookworm who was devoted to studying, homework, and from middle school through [the] end of high school, also very involved in theater.”

Mngrezzo sort of found dance by accident — or, fate, if you will.

He tells the story: “Audition day comes for the [high school] musical. I give the singular worst rendition (honestly probably ever) of ‘Under the Sea’ from ‘The Little Mermaid.’ Suffice it to say, I didn’t get a speaking role … I was put into the ensemble, but was also made one of the dancers. That was a shock because I knew next to nothing about dancing and I wasn’t a physical being in almost any capacity. But the choreographers, who were my undergraduate professors and also first artistic directors, were great at working with the not-so-experienced group of ragtag dancers they were given … I was having the most fun I think I had ever had before.”

And then it was off to the races, or in this case, dances! Mngrezzo’s journey with dance took him from Western Oregon University to Minneapolis, where he’s lived and worked for the past three years.

He says of Minnesota, “I love the ample beautiful bodies of water like the lakes and the river, and also how vibrant the arts are.”

In his time in Minnesota, he’s premiered original works for Amez Dance, Minnesota Dance Theatre, James Sewell Ballet, Black Label’s inaugural Mover’s Make, and ARENA Dance’s 7th “CandyBox,” as well as teaching in several local studios. He also choreographed a portion of the Twin Cities Gay Men’s Chorus Pride Concert in June, “This Is Me.”

His piece for the TCGMC Pride Concert was a beautiful meditation on the body and the difficulty faced by one who is a stranger to themself. Mngrezzo chose to choreograph a piece to the song “I Am” by B.E. Boykin for the concert.

“It is a beautiful composition; sonically exquisite and thematically charged,” he says.

But it’s more than just a pretty sound. He continues, “… the title of this song strikes me hardest when I ask myself, ‘What is the problem?’ And like a cracked reflection speaking back, it says ‘I Am.’ Pushing far past the point of being ‘one’s own worst critic.’”

This perception of oneself in a negative way, the self-hatred, body dysmorphia, and pain that we have to fight against in the queer community so frequently — it all spilled out so heartbreakingly beautifully in the piece. Audience members approached Mngrezzo afterward, each with their own interpretations of the performance, each deeply moved by it.

“I’ve been navigating a lot of self-hatred, but am also having to frequently remind myself that self-love isn’t a destination, it’s a journey,” he says. “An ongoing journey … I go outside and look into the stars and remember I am a speck of stardust in an ever-expanding universe. A rush of reassurance and freedom — finding solace in that.”

Mngrezzo continues, “Outside of its performance at the concert, I had personally named what I created ‘Am I?’ — just inverting the words from the title of the piece — but I think that in a way maybe that is partially why it is more universal in terms of how it’s perceived. Anyone asking themselves a question beginning that way is actively assessing where they are on their journey with self-love and what direction they’re moving in. Sometimes it can feel like an uphill battle … like swimming upstream, but ultimately, we are who we are, so maybe sometimes that has to be enough?”

Maybe that’s the solution: deciding to love yourself is deciding that you are enough. Your body is enough, your mind. Your talents, your career, your whole self, flaws and ugly parts and beautiful parts and all — it’s just enough, and more than enough, it is lovable. That’s the foundation of the queer community, after all.

“No words could sum it up better than ‘love is love,’” Mngrezzo says. “And I love that I can belong to this community where maybe not everyone will understand [the full intersectionality of one’s identity], but there is no fear of being ‘shunned’ or ‘othered’. I will still be accepted.”