What does is it mean to rename yourself, to claim yourself? This is an opening question in Marissa Perel’s workshop at 10am on Thursday as a part of Healing Action, a day of healing that is meant for “rest, wellness, and rest through hands-on bodywork, workshops, classes, and a communal/performance talk.” Although I believe the process of re-claiming is useful, I recognize that I am in a moment of questioning un-claiming. Letting go of all of the labels and language as it reminds me I am pushing against something, someone, a piece of time, and my arms are tired. Perhaps all this naming delineates us from each other, and reminds my body of colonization. How claiming my mix-y blood line exposes me as someone who people took something from. How claiming my gender allows someone to write essays about my body. I am no victim. I am here. My people have not been erased even though you can buy a knockoff item at Urban Outfitters to make yourself feel. “Where are you right now in space or time?” This is resonating. I am at La Mama, on Great Jones Street. We are on the 6th floor. “This is not a dance class.” The room sighs in relief. People express how drawn they are to this years’ languaging in the curatorial statement of this years festival. That they can’t believe they read the words “Poc”, and “Radical” and “Healing”. This drew them here, when they were too nervous to attend previously. “Write a list of what you need today. Write about a place in your body that needs healing.” A participant describes how she arrives today with a broken heart, and how she would like to label this as an injury, asking the question: ‘Why do we see a broken heart differently than a broken ankle?” We were guided in a body scan meditation. I noticed that there was no language of letting go. There was no labor put onto our bodies. We were instructed to simply remain as who we are. This allowed pain to simply remain. This allowed us to bring the environment into our bodies if we wished and harmonize our insides with the space outside. The earth is a unit. So are we. Someone mentioned how they recognized each “member” of their body and I envisioned an entire community within each of us. I left the class and walked my body to the park, and laid down on the grass because it was the first item on my list of what I needed today.