When I step on stage, my body shakes. It is not my favourite place to be and I happily give the spotlight to anyone else…
I don’t have a cute, delicate tremble. No. Full-blown, muscle-shakes and massive brain fog.
When I’m on stage sometimes, trying to hold a pose, I always think: “They can see right through me.” And they can. That is the whole point of being on stage…
To be seen.

On Sunday 23 November, students from the Amsterdam School of Burlesque stepped into the spotlight of Boom Chicago again. Some for the first time. Others after years of performing. And yet, the courage it takes is the same.

We often talk about performance as confidence. As show. As entertainment. And ofcourse all of that is true. But what I witness time and again is also something else: Surrender. Vulnerability. Truth wrapped in glitter and intention.

Every act that was shared on stage last Sunday holds more than technique or timing. It holds a decision to say: “This is me. As I am. And I dare to let you look.”

That is not small. That is enormous.

Because burlesque is not only about the Tease. It’s not only about playing a character. It’s also about returning to the parts of you that were once too loud, too soft, too wild, too still. And giving them space.

In daily life, we laugh, we cry, we do what needs to be done, and all too often we shape ourselves into who we think others want us to be. We unlearn some of the essential parts of ourselves and who we truly are. But what I see during our shows is that what our students bring to the stage, is themselves. Raw and refined. Soft and sharp. Not flawless: whole.

So when someone steps out into that stage light, they don’t just perform.
They reclaim something.
They gather up every part of themselves that was told to shrink, and say:
Not tonight. Tonight, I am here. Tonight I expand into my all.

And the audience feels that.
You can hear it in the held breaths. and the bursts of applause.

Courage doesn’t always roar.
Sometimes it steps onto a stage in fishnets.
Sometimes it winks through trembling hands.
Sometimes it trips a little, then keeps going anyway.

This is not about perfection.
This is about permission.
And if you ask me, it’s sacred.

Love,
Willemijn 

PS: if you’re looking for coaching off stage, I’m here for you.