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| Myah McKinnie dancing |
August 7, 2024
Dear Myah [McKinnie],
When I found out you had passed, I happened to be about to leave to go to the cemetery to check on flowers I had planted on my parents and grandparents’ plot and to bring flowers to the grave of Tony Finlayson, known as Jahmés, a friend since childhood and the drummer at my wedding, a Black man, a year older than I am, who died too soon, shot in an attempted carjacking. And now you had died too soon, a Black woman a year younger than I am, a dancer at my wedding, (a beautiful ceremony for, as you know, a disastrous marriage.) My immediate reaction was anger. I was so so mad. I was so mad I didn’t even know why. I guess I was mad at the world for taking you too soon. Why? Why? Why? I was losing my Black friends. And it was no accident I was losing them first. Statistics show Black people die younger than white people, a manifestation of structural racism …
A cemetery seemed an appropriate place to go, so I got in my car. Yes. I bought a car. A red Chevy Bolt. I named her Penelope Yvonne Beaulieux. It’s a big change after all those years without one. I moved, too. To Milwaukee, my hometown, after 45 years in Chicago. That’s a whole other story. I looked at the music streaming options. I’d like to say I picked some spiritual music, but I didn’t. I saw Janis Joplin—I don’t know if you ever listened to Janis Joplin. She’s our era. And I put her on full blast and screamed along with her. She was perfect.
Our friendship crossed religious as well as racial divides. You were an evangelical Christian and I am a Catholic. Unlike some evangelical Christians, though, you didn’t try to save me, and I appreciated that. We learned about each other's worlds and appreciated each other's worldviews. You taught me about spiritual warfare. We also shared very personal stories. I don’t want to recount them here because I don’t know who might find this letter. :-)
Before I moved, I was going through old cards, tossing most, but I kept the one you sent me before the pandemic. It reads: “The food, perfect. The company, great. The memories, sweet. Thanks for the wonderful time.” And then you wrote, “Hey, my sister, I just want to let you know that hanging out with you in your ‘Hood’ was a highlight of my summer. Maybe you can hang out in my hood :-)”
I had invited you to lunch at my apartment. I remember I had a salad. Maybe soup? I remember I used my grandmother’s art deco dishes. Then we went to the Hyde Park Art Fair. I wore the skirt I found there to your celebration of life. It truly was a celebration of you. We lifted you up in words and prayer, song and dance. Your mentee, Chanelle [Patrick], ministered in dance as we clapped and clapped. You have left a legacy. Here's what I wrote to Chanelle on Facebook about the power of her ministry.
I did go down to your “hood” later that summer to a neighborhood fair and then we sat in your living room, all white, with the colorful artwork by Allen Stringfellow the focal point over the mantel. I loved sitting in that room, so peaceful, the bright colors of the artwork bursting forth in the vast whiteness of the room. Your dancing had inspired Stringfellow, and we were sitting in the aura of the artwork, your glow radiating out through your movement captured in the art into the room and now into my memories. I remember you said that you had thought I would like the art, and I did and still remember it.
Oh, I found the January 6, 2002 Chicago Tribune article, “The spirit moves them: Sacred dance troupes transcend the traditional boundaries of worship,” and typed out your quotes, which I love, just as I love you. I thought you might like to see them, too. After all these years, they still ring true.
“McKinnie studied dance growing up in Chicago, including tap, jazz and ballet, but she stopped when she joined a Protestant denomination where dancing wasn’t accepted in or out of church. “But one day I saw a lady dancing on a religious program on TV, and I thought, ‘I’ve been creatively dead.’” She switched to a more dance-friendly church, and now she readily refers to Second Samuel 6:16, which says that when the ark of the Covenant was brought into Jerusalem, a witness “saw King David leaping and dancing before the Lord.”
“Dance visualizes the worship and helps the interpretation of the songs,” says McKinnie. “Those who can’t dance themselves see us and hopefully find inspiration. They see a leap or a twirl, and it’s what they’re feeling inside.”
Instead of an ornament, sacred dance is intended as an integral part of the worship. “I tell my children dancers that they’re ministers, not performers,” McKinnie says.
xo
Michele
