The Commons

Parkour for me, is a grounding practice; when I say this, there are a couple of layers. First, the movement connects me to myself, and the vessel that I occupy. Second, it connects me to the space in which I exist and move. And third, it connects me to other people, and that is beautiful. 

BODY

When everything grinded to a halt in injury, and I realized that my practice is what is most important to me, I started to concentrate on that structure of body, space, and people. At the beginning, because everything felt so hard, I needed to start at the body, and gradually expand my perspective. Mainly I connect movement to a form of self care, and an activity through which I seek mental clarity and stability. It has been true to my relationship with movement for a really long time, that it felt heightened through the experience of injury. I was suddenly met with this moment where I was injured more than I’d ever been since I started parkour. So the biggest struggle at the time was the absence of movement, and I was left wondering if I could still rely on my practice as a force of good in my life. I was really worried about my mental health during that time. 

When I was first injured and during recovery when my movement capabilities were the most strained, every negative aspect of my life seemed more difficult. I wasn’t prepared for how much of an impact this experience would have on my sense of self and my gender identity, it really threw me. I don’t really perceive gender or identity while I move, and it’s really healing for me. I feel so present when I train, like I’m just this entity that solely exists for the moment, and social barriers like gender feel so far away. Without that feeling, I realized that the everyday trials weighed on me more heavily. As things improved, I wanted to prioritize this feeling of freedom. In the deprivation of movement, that’s when I could really appreciate the beautiful and necessary space that parkour occupies in my mind. In other parts of my life I feel like I rely more on makeup and the way that I dress in order to feel good about myself, but if I’m out moving I don’t need those things. But of course I like to get really pretty and go do parkour sometimes, because it’s fun and it feels good.

I’ve experienced intense dissociation for many years now, and since I’ve been out of college and more in touch with the “real world,” I’ve had to spend a lot of time in spaces that aren’t super friendly towards me. It’s an almost constant struggle through issues with trauma, as well as issues with just existing as a trans person, and the culmination of those struggles is that my default headspace isn’t very grounded. Even when I was discovering movement for myself as a kid, it was always my primary coping mechanism. All of the hard things I’ve dealt with in my life, I’ve dealt with through movement, it’s been that source of positivity for me. My relationship with movement has developed a lot since then, and it does much more for me now than just helping me cope. 

SPACE

Tether is designed in two parts. The first is all tripod, which is a very intentional choice. I could have had other people film me, and other people are actually there in some of those clips. I chose to do that in order to hone in on the solitary relationship between myself and the space. The “not-spot” nature of the clips was partially because I wanted landscapes that matched my emotional landscape, and the other part was purely because I was hurt; I couldn’t cover ground, drop, or move quickly. The spots that were accessible to me were very small and condensed. I also wanted to think of the frame of the shot as part of the space itself. So I wanted to start every clip out of frame, and end every clip out of frame. I wanted the line of the frame to be part of the spot, like when I cross that frame, I’m on. Like being onstage or offstage. 

With a torn knee I was somewhat immobilized, but not fully. I focused my priorities on what I want out of movement. What I needed at the time wasn’t to do a backflip, it was to feel grounded through movement. It was challenging to discover how to get that in this new delicate state, but after some time I found my way, and movement could do the same things for me that it used to. I had countless people tell me that I should pick up kendama, or whatever random pastime. I’m here, I’m alive, I’ve got three usable limbs. I didn’t want to jeopardize my recovery, but very much wanted to continue to experience moving with my body. 

In some ways, it was almost freeing to have to completely shift my approach. At the time I remember thinking that 90% of the skills I used to do were completely inaccessible, and I wasn’t going to try and do anything that my body wasn’t ready for. I had to look elsewhere, and I enjoyed that creative constraint. When I got into this rabbit hole, it felt the same as it always did, just looked a lot different. My movement from now on will almost certainly be informed by this experience, my mental approach to movement and its role in my life has been forever changed. 

PEOPLE

At first when I was struggling mentally toward the beginning of recovery, I felt pretty distant from my friends. It was only through time that I grew to properly lean on my support network. I’m lucky to have found solace in my relationships with other people, especially my partner and the Beans. I relied heavily on these relationships, and I’m really grateful for everyone in my life. Eventually I did manage to continue finding self-actualization through movement, and that’s how this video was born. 

The second half of the video was a period of time where I felt like I was learning how to ask for help. I’ve always been really bad at asking for support, despite having people in my life who really love me. There’s the literal asking for help filming this project, and asking them to be really invested with their time and effort. Then there’s the less quantifiable ask of support as a friend and as a person. That can funnel into movement in a really powerful way. For example, I have a difficult time solo training. Being a trans person, just being in a public space can feel very alienating and putting yourself out there by training can be legitimately frightening. But as soon as I have friends with me it’s a completely different feeling. There’s a space of support created by us, and the rest of the world doesn’t matter. That solidarity was really potent during the filming of the second section of Tether. My friends and I go out to do parkour and I feel like a rockstar, it’s pretty cool. 

Written by Jake Chapman in association with Egg Klickstein