Dancing queens

I’ve shared before that what brings me joy is when my kids surprise me with their joy. While this has happened naturally with our older two, understanding joy through Rachel and Janneke’s eyes has taken more effort. When the girls were young, we were encouraged to try live music sessions as a way of fostering communication and understanding. We invited our friend Mendelt to come over to play instruments and sing. He still does this with our girls 14 years later – though via Zoom. (I’ve written about that before: “The sound of community,” June 2022). Music continues to be a source of joy, as we’ve observed through the delight in our girls’ eyes and the body movement in their wheelchairs.

Come on and celebrate

So, earlier this summer, when a friend sent me an invitation to attend Inclusiv, a Toronto dance event, I was curious. Created by Neil Forester and Xavier Pinto of Substance Cares, Inclusiv is one of two programs designed to promote inclusion and belonging. It is described as “the world’s largest outdoor patio event designed to celebrate and include people of all abilities, creating welcoming social spaces rooted in accessibility, dignity and community.” I’m not much of a dancer, but I was moved by this description.

On the night of the event, we drove to Toronto’s Port Lands district, west of downtown and along the water. As we pulled into the parking lot, we saw one group after another unload from their vans and roll over to the event. It didn’t take us long to find the music and push our way into a sea of wheelchairs, mobility scooters, walkers, standing frames, fidget toys, rollerskates and feathers. It was as if Mardi Gras met Caribana; the space was awash in colour and character. Caregivers and family members blended into the crowd, and joy was visible everywhere.

Move it, move it

A scan of the room showed hundreds of individuals, some on their feet and others in their chairs, moving heads, arms and legs to the beat. One young man at the edge of the crowd was beaming. He jumped up and down; he needed no choreography, nor did he seem to worry about fitting in. A dad near me caught my attention. He stood with his daughter and waved her arms in time to the music. Both their smiles were magnetic.

There were signs that this was no ordinary event. The DJs would occasionally pause the music to help reunite lost individuals with their caregivers. There were sensory rooms set apart from the crowd, with calming sounds and lights. And there was a second dance space, staffed with a sitting DJ who led everyone through synchronized arm dancing. My kids could not stop smiling and swaying in their chairs.

That night is now a sweet summer memory. It reminds me that as much as my kids’ physical needs remain the same since those first years, their sense of wonder and delight continues to grow – and groove.