Blessed Life

by Kim Fields

  I bought Sasha a candle and got a matching coffee mug for myself, with the phrase engraved on them: Life begins where your comfort zone ends. That was our mantra for our season. Sasha would light the candle every day in rehearsal, and every morning I drank my coffee from that mug. I embraced and clung to that as if it was an additional partner in every number, guiding and empowering me…for all six hours of rehearsal six days a week and every time I hit the Ballroom. Life begins where your comfort zone ends.

  All that said, by the night of the first episode, March 21, 2016, there was not a muscle in my body that had not been twisted, turned, stretched, strained, soothed with Advil, and retrained to dance. Sasha and I were the first couple on the dance floor. I felt good. Amazing, actually. I had gone through so much mentally and physically, and I was ready. I trusted Sasha. He knew what he was doing, and the faith I had in him helped me relax. I also said a little prayer: Please God, don’t let me trip or fall; don’t let anything slip out…The extra help couldn’t hurt.

  As for the dance, Sasha and I performed our routine as rehearsed, but we were so full of adrenaline that it seemed over in a flash. I remembered catching his eye a few times mid-dance and communicating a sense of Hey, I’m really doing this and him responding, I know. Judge Carrie Ann Inaba called me “fierceness in a tiny package,” which left me thrilled and ready for the next one.

  Indeed, as week two began, I was super eager to learn new skills and acquire the confidence that came with them. I did my best to come to every rehearsal open-minded, ready to work, and without boundaries. I didn’t want anything to inhibit Sasha’s creativity for me or us. Dancing was liberating and energizing, and I wanted to go wherever it—and Sasha—would take me. I was willing to try everything. Well, almost everything.

  As we prepared a salsa for week two’s Latin night, Sasha wanted me to open the number by myself, with a sexy, semi-silhouetted shimmy. As we practiced, I couldn’t quite get it right. Each time, he said, “You’ve got to get into it and shimmy.” Finally I heard that one too many times and snapped, “Dude, I don’t shimmy. I’m uncomfortable doing that.” Chris happened to be watching the rehearsal and he encouraged me to listen to Sasha. “I think you can shimmy,” he said. “You just have to be less inhibited.”

  I agreed to try, but it was easier said than done. Sasha had me pin two tassels to my shirt—right on my chest, like a stripper! “We’re not moving on until those tassels move,” he said. I had an idea of what he wanted me to do but no knowledge of how to do it. Frustrated, I stopped myself on the verge of tears and said to myself, Oh man, this chick can’t show up right now. Just push through it. Own it.

  We were dancing to Gloria Estefan’s hit “Conga.” She was a hero of mine, and Sasha arranged for a surprise Skype session with her between rehearsals. I screamed when I saw it was Gloria live on the computer. “I’m rooting for you,” she said. We invited her to watch us run through our dance, and afterward she was full of encouragement. “You’re absolutely fabulous and beautiful,” she said. “You’re going to get amazing points on this because you’re awesome.”

  Talk about being in a happy place. I’d opened myself to risk, and look where it had taken me. Even better, we made it, sailing through the round!

  Next, we did the foxtrot to the Facts of Life theme song, which was the show’s choice, not mine. I wanted to be taken more seriously. My sister watched one of the rehearsals and blew me away by saying that she could see a new level of confidence in me. I felt it, too. This is why I’d said yes to the show.

  As the season progressed, the dances got longer. Sasha added choreography and warned me to pace myself. That was funny. I didn’t know how to pace myself in anything, and frankly, I didn’t care. As far as I was concerned, Dancing was about pushing myself to new limits, not pacing myself. I wasn’t about to slow down. I was in the best shape of my life. I was drinking healthy smoothies and eating fresh fruits and vegetables during the day, and for dinner, I ate chicken. The weight melted off me, and I saw a toned dancer’s body in its place.

  Sasha made me text him photos of myself at each meal to prove that I was eating enough, and my wonderful husband sent reminders to me to hydrate. I received calls, emails, and texts from friends, rooting for me. My mom and sister provided invaluable support. Chris was amazing. My boys finished every call saying, “Good night, Mommy. Good luck. You’re the best dancer in the world.”

  Hardly. But I went to sleep satisfied that I was working hard to become the best dancer I could be, and I woke up full of energy, ready to hit the studio. I was focused, and fulfilled. I’d crossed numerous personal barriers—vulnerability, embarrassment, and uncertainty—and tapped into beauty, grace, joy, confidence, and a sense that I could do anything I set my mind and body to.

  * * *

  During a rehearsal for week four, Disney Night, I was jumping on the balls of my feet for our quickstep and felt a pull. Sasha knew right away that I’d injured the tendons around my Achilles. The show sent me to a doctor who checked for ankle sprains and hairline fractures. As I waited for the MRI, Sasha had me practicing moves in the lobby of the doctor’s office. I brushed off the doctor’s recommendation to lay off rehearsals. “I’ve had two children,” I said. “This little thing ain’t nothin’.”

  Who doesn’t have aches and pains? Hadn’t Sasha said dancing was overcoming obstacles? I felt great and was thriving in what I realized was my happy place. I also thrived on the camaraderie with the others. Early on, Ginger Zee and I laughed at how awful all of us gals looked on camera in the rehearsals, sweaty and messy, like we’d been tossed all over the place, which we had! I loved that she was the scrappy, nerdy kid who liked science.

  For Disney Night, Chris and Sebastian flew into town (Quincy was always with me and hung at my mom’s while I worked) and cheered on Sasha and me as we made it through another round. I was in a zone with Sasha as we got to Switch Up Week, which threw me, as it’s supposed to. I was paired with South African pro Latin and Ballroom dancer, Keo Motsepe, who’d surprised me in the rehearsal studio. I’d expected to be partnered with Mark Ballas or Val Chmerkovskiy. I didn’t think they’d put two black people together. Keo was also so much taller than me. Much.

  We went through a quick, frank getting-to-know-each-other process as he ushered me through the waltz. During one rehearsal, we were dancing close and I felt something hard near his pocket. “Are you kidding me?” I exclaimed. He stopped, stepped back, and reached into his pocket, laughing and embarrassed. “No, no, no, it’s my microphone pack!” My mother and Aunt Pat both cried when they saw us in costume on the show; they said I looked and moved so much like my grandmother. I was overjoyed in my soul.

  I was glad to have Sasha back the next week and we worked super hard on our jive to the great song from Hairspray, “You Can’t Stop the Beat.” We got a great score from the judges and crucial support from fans, and it sent me into the following week thinking we had a chance to make it to the finals. But there were still several rounds before then, starting with Icons Week. Sasha and I were assigned the Jackson 5’s “ABC.” Great song, but it was challenging for Sasha to create a samba to the bubblegum classic. We spiced it up with backup dancers. We even had a cool black light with neon paint effect, and Sasha’s choreography was really fantastic.

  * * *

  Until we were eliminated, I had no sense we’d be going home. I was stunned and devastated. The snot cry that came out of me was real. I kept thinking, Be gracious. Keep it together, Kimmy. Be gracious. But inside, I could hear myself screaming, wanting to get real with Tom Bergeron, the audience in the ballroom, and all those watching at home. “Tom, you know this ain’t right. I’m not supposed to get voted off right now. I ain’t leaving this mutha! This is some mistake and my black self ain’t goin’ nowhere!!!!!!!!!!!!”

  Can you imagine what that would’ve been like?

  But that’s the way I felt—robbed. I cried my way back to my trailer, hearing whispers of supportive words from those aro
und me. My sister helped me through the shock and disappointment. As was the routine for the eliminated team, Sasha and I had to appear live on Good Morning America from New York the next morning, so I hurried to my apartment, threw a change of clothes into a bag, and raced to the airport. On the way, I called Chris, who apologized for being unable to console me because he had to console Sebastian, who’d snuck out of his bedroom, watched me get eliminated, and was having his own hard time.

  At the airport, I was met by a woman from Delta airlines who handed me a box of See’s candy. “I was watching,” she said. “I can’t believe you’re here right now.” Neither could I. Then, after a security delay, I missed my flight. Sasha, who was already on the plane, texted me with a heart symbol: “I am so proud of you.” After I caught a later flight, we reconvened at the Good Morning America studio, where Robin Roberts gave me a hug to end all hugs, one of those all-enveloping body wraps where she let her heart beat into mine in a way that said, You’re going to be okay, l’il sis.

  And I was.

  I was better than okay.

  * * *

  And that was the point. I was okay before Dancing with the Stars, but I was even better afterward. Yes, part of the reason I went on the show was to continue my professional narrative, to try projects and genres I hadn’t done. But it was also something I did for myself, something that nourished me deep down as a human being. It was, as I had hoped, my new happy place. Though I returned home the day after Good Morning America and went back to my husband and children, packing lunches, driving in school carpools, reading scripts, and developing projects, my life was different. At age forty-seven, I proved it is never too late to learn something new, acquire a new passion, and find your happy place.

  Like dancing, I couldn’t have cha-cha-cha’ed or waltzed without help from other people. Isn’t that what we learn about life? It’s a group effort. Family and friends all pitched in. Not only did I have to let them, but I was also reminded of why, as I’ve mentioned before, the postscript on my emails is Proverbs 11:25: “Whoever refreshes others will be refreshed.” The connection between us only deepens when we allow someone to lend a hand and make our journey a little easier. As Blair said to me decades ago, “It’s okay to ask for help. When you do, you allow others to bless you. When you don’t, they can’t. Don’t be a blessing blocker.”

  Finally, people of faith talk about surrendering to God’s will. I certainly have said my fair share about it. But do we really know how to let go? If I didn’t know before, I know now what it is like to completely let go and trust in the Lord. In order to dance, I had to surrender to my discomfort with my body. I had to surrender to my teacher. I had to surrender to a blind faith that Sasha would teach me the steps and that the steps would come to me if I learned them, practiced them, and took them to heart. I had to surrender life—and live it. And I had to surrender to love—knowing that my family would still love me when I got back and that I would love myself even more for taking this risk and ultimately that I would be able to love all of them even more for having opened myself up to this great, grand adventure.

  Oh, there’s one more thing. I learned that I could dance.

  And I love to dance.

  Oh God, I love to dance—and plan to keep on dancing.

  Epilogue

  In the meantime, here I am. It’s been a year since that last night on Dancing with the Stars and several months since I wrote the first sentence of this book. At this moment, I’m heading to Atlanta from Savannah, on my way home from the set of a wonderful new British TV comedy I’m starring in for Sky 1 called Living the Dream. This past week I enjoyed several good days where I nailed my work and one frustrating day where things were just a little off. That’s the way it goes for all of us, right?

  I remember a song whose lyrics went, “You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have…”

  You know how that one goes, I think.

  Anyway, here in my car, I am reflecting on where and why I began this book, and where I am at this moment, and I have to reiterate what I said at the outset—that my life has been a journey along a road like the one I’m on now. Sometimes I have driven on one side, sometimes I have driven on the other side, and then there are those times when I have ridden the line down the middle. What I’ve come to terms with is that as long as I’m moving forward in one direction, I’m winning at least half the battle.

  Speaking of Battle, how much did I love competing in the reboot of Battle of the Network Stars? Yes, somewhere in my soul with every event, I hoped I’d make Mark Harmon and Michael J. Fox proud.

  Here’s what I also know: The sum of my experiences—all the laughs and the tears, the love and the heartbreak, the disappointments and the joys, and all the chances I’ve taken, and survived—are what enables me to know that I can handle whatever the future brings. Like everyone, I wish some things had been easier. But writing this book has reminded me that I’ve been much more resilient than I might have felt at the time I was going through stuff. Aren’t we all?

  I see the way decisions and events have shaped me. I see the myriad ways other people have helped and inspired me along the way. I see my village and cherish the friendship, love, and faith we’ve shared with each other. I see that I probably worried more than I needed to. I see that God was always with me, ready to help and guide me, especially when I felt confused, frustrated, and alone. I see that I am not always in control, not the way I often think. I see a deeper level of surrender since Dancing with the Stars, one where I can truly let go and let God and trust Him to lead. Working in the movie A Question of Faith recently confirmed so much of this again, as I portrayed a woman dealing with these very issues when her family and world is turned upside down.

  I see that I wouldn’t change a thing I’ve been through on the chance it would alter where I am right now, which is loving and loved, and mostly happy, sometimes harried, incredibly grateful, and always trying to keep it real.

  Chris and I have lived in Atlanta for nearly a decade now, with our place in Harlem still in our grasp. I didn’t expect to plant roots and raise my children here, but I couldn’t have planned anything over the past forty-eight years, and as you’ve come to see in this book, I didn’t. And when I did try to plan, well, we know what happened then. In the meantime, He has had me act and direct and create music and perform poetry. He has taken me from Harlem to Hollywood and beyond. He has blessed me with life and the gift to live it with passion and love. He has surrounded me with wonderful family and friends.

  Chris and I talk about this all the time, the real gifts of life as opposed to those we mistakenly believe are important. I realize there’s an enormous amount of irony in the fact that the Gypsy life we live is exactly the type of life I always tried to avoid. I attribute it to God’s divine humor. Every time I made plans, He said, “Guess what, Boo-Boo?” and then showed me who’s really in the driver’s seat.

  If I had the safety net I always thought I wanted, I wonder if I would look for Him less. Would I be less tuned to His voice?

  All I know is that I love where I am now with my husband, my family, and my faith.

  My faith is the driving force in my life, and I feel that if I follow Him forward, as our friend Israel Houghton so beautifully put it in his song “Moving Forward”: “I’m not going back, moving ahead…” I will continue to grow and move forward and ultimately get where I’m supposed to be. I will be all right. If you’re like me, you believe that none of us are alone. We’re connected directly and indirectly, in ways we don’t even know, and also in that miraculous way we all are well aware of and best to remember—through our capacity to give and receive love. That’s our lifeline. That’s His message. That’s our connection with each other. That’s what I had in mind at the beginning of this book when I said that this story was not just my journey, but our journey together.

  At some point every day, no matter what’s happened, something reminds me of how much life is worth living.
It might be a smile, something I came across on the Internet, a phone call, a memory, or a flash of beauty I glimpse out the window. Through losses I’ve come to understand the value.

  * * *

  Travel update: Only forty miles more until I’m home and get to climb into my own bed. I am also looking forward to my birthday, which is two days from now. Chris and I will drive back to Savannah for the weekend. We’ll take Sebastian and Quincy, too. We all will hang out at my favorite spot on the river, have a nice family dinner, and celebrate together. The boys will help me blow out my birthday candles. They’ll ask how old I am, and when I say I’m forty-eight, they’ll say, “Wow, that’s old.”

  The truth is, it’s not old. It’s exciting. It’s great. I’m thrilled to be here and I’ll tell my mom that when we talk, when I thank her as I do every birthday for having me. I’m eager to watch my children grow up and am hopeful about their lives. I’m looking forward to my marriage continuing to fulfill, challenge, and surprise me. As for work, I plan to go on forever. Actors only get better with age. The more you live, the more you bring to a role. As you can see, I am positive, ambitious, and full of hope and dreams, as I am about life itself, and I hope that came across in this book.

  We all have the ability to sharpen each other, inspire each other, to be stronger and better without being disrespectful, without being hateful, without being self-righteous. We have the ability to love ourselves and each other, and that should be our goal. We’re on this journey together. There are blessings all around us. Even more, we all have the amazing ability to be the blessing.

  Life itself is a blessing. It has been for me.

  * * *

  Thank you for being on this road with me. Now, let’s keep going.

  Love,

  Kim

  Photographs