Fakir and my bisexual lover Mark J., who was also a good friend of Fakir, offered to help me create a ceremony in the country. I wanted balls sewed on and to dance up and down a long path symbolizing my life. On my right would be stakes with photos of the dear departed ones. On my left would be photos of those who needed healing and whom I was afraid of losing.
We arrived at Valhalla, and on a hot August afternoon, Fakir pierced my chest and back 16 times. Mark attached red rubber balls. I started walking, slowly discovering the sensation of the swinging weight of the balls on my upper back and chest. I kept my concentration on saying good-bye to the departed and sending love to those I feared for. After an hour or so, Mark’s drumming got faster. Fakir joined him with a big cymbal. The tempo of the dance increased. And then I was running. And then I was flying as grief and fear poured out of me… until I felt cleansed and grateful to be alive! Mark died of AIDS in 1988. Blessed be his soul.
Since then, Fakir and I brought the Ball Dance to our community and many different rituals have taken place. Two years ago, around the Winter Solstice of 1990, a ritual called "Dance of the Black Sun" included a Ball Dance. AIDS was taking many more friends in what I now call the "Second Wave" of AIDS deaths in my lifetime. This spiritual event, focused on AIDS, was the vision of dear friends Robb and Raven. It was a ritual of empowerment, reclaiming and tribal unity. Along with 18 other dancers and about 200 attendees, I danced myself into a trance in this ceremony of transformation from Darkness to Light. The balls on our flesh were attached with fine, sterile sutures and they flew off our bodies as we danced ourselves into the ecstasy that released our fears, rage and pain.
