I don’t know what I was thinking but perhaps I was braver back then. Perhaps the spirit of Madonna had just infected me and I felt anything was possible. It’s hard to say. Whatever the inspiration was, it is something I can’t to relate to today.
Nevermind being a foreigner, first graders definitely did not do things like just try out for the talent show and all alone. And who was I, not even of the popular set, a kid who usually spent recess alone with a book watching the friendful frolic over tether ball or jungle gym. It was quite a leap, but armed with my Life a Virgin and a brand new boombox my father had bought on sale from Radio Shack, I felt, foolishly, like I had nothing to lose.
I picked my favorite song off the album—none of the singles—but one I felt was almost a secret. “Over and Over” was my anthem. The song that played through my head when teachers forced us to run laps at PE, when I fumbled an answer in social studies or math, when a boy I like went out with another girl with better scrunchies and jelly bracelets, when my parents picked me up in their rickety Pinto and took me home to the neighborhood everyone called our town’s “ghettos.” It was a song that saved my life.
Hurry up/ I just can't wait/ I gotta do it now/ I can't be late/I know I'm not afraid /I gotta get out the door/ If I don't do it now/ I won't get anymore. . .
It was spring by the time auditions came around. I was tired—my lifetime’s trend toward insomnia ahead already kicked in thanks to our neighborhood serial killer the Nightstalker’s exploits airing on nightly news. I had enough energy to be completely nervous when I got into that long winding line of baby dancing girl-trios and jugglers and gymnasts and clowns and hoola-hoopers. I entered the cafeteria, but luckily the panel of judges was all teachers and teachers known for being “cool” at the school. Even Mr. Alonzo, the “cool” janitor was on the panel! Ms. Hendersen, the 4thgrade teacher especially was known to be the most popular in the whole school. Her thing was humor. She made kids do finger exercises and serenaded bad kids with call me irresponsible. . .
I went to the judges with my cassette tape, which they would put in the sound system for me. Before the song was on, I had to give an introduction.
“Good afternoon, my name is Porochista Khakpour and I am proud to present my jazz dance to a song called ‘Over and Over’ by the singer Madonna.”
They all smiled and nodded at me and somewhere an unknown god put a spotlight on me and played my song. I went over the 3-5 moves that I repeated, indeed, over and over, as I lip-synched. My own voice always almost came out when Madonna belted
You try to criticize my drive/If I lose I don't feel paralyzed /It's not the game it's how you play/And if I fall I get up again now. . .
Those lines meant so much to me!
So I danced my ass off until the music faded.
The judges politely clapped.
I curtseyed as I had practiced.
To my joy, Ms. Henderson, was the first to speak: “Thank you, Porochista. I just have one question. . .”
“Anything!” I shot back breathlessly. I had learned that from the Star Search finalists. They always said anything! when a question made it their way. It was part of their positive attitude.
She picked up the cassette tape and made a show of lowering her glasses at it—she was so funny!—and said slowly, “What will you be wearing?”
She was not smiling. Neither was anyone else. Mr. Alonzo was chewing his pencil and looking down.
I shrugged and looked down at what I was wearing: a sweatsuit. “Something better than this,” I offered. I immediately thought it was because of my cheap discount clothes, something I was always self-conscious about in our tony little town where even elementary school kids talked shop about shopping.
“You will be fully clothed, yes?” Ms. Hendersen went on.
I thought this was one of those instances where I was not hearing right. And then I suddenly remember Madonna on the cover of the cassette. . .
[To be continued on Friday!]