Dances of the Soul: ARTS Bridge lets children experiencing homelessness dance it out 

In the Salvation Army's cafeteria/multi-purpose room, crowded with folding tables and volunteers and heavy with the smell of cooking food, a dozen kids are gathered for another kind of sustenance. They press close to a short, economically built woman with close-cropped hair and a seemingly inexhaustible supply of energy.

"You start like this," she says, bending slightly with her hands on her knees. "Then this," and springs lightly up, before dropping into a bouncing squat. They like this; they repeat her moves, adding their own individual twists and vying for their instructor's kilowatt smile of approval.

A girl of about 12 is particularly excited. "Miss Oneaka," she wants to know, "Can I come out like this," and strikes a Saturday Night Fever pose, one finger stabbing at the sky. The kids fall out in peals of laughter. One boy sneaks up and squeezes the teacher's waist. OK, OK, she says, "no hugging."

"Miss Oneaka" is Oneaka Mack, founder and artistic director of the Oneaka Dance Company. The children, ages 4-12, are residents at the Salvation Army Center of Hope, an emergency shelter for woman and children on the northern edge of Uptown. Every Saturday in November, Mack, a volunteer assistant, a counselor and a master artist are buzzed into the high-security shelter to lead an arts workshop for children experiencing homelessness.

The program, called Dances of the Soul: ARTS Bridge, was born after months of community partnership-building and a handy grant from the Knight Foundation. Mack began brainstorming last year about ways to make art more accessible to underserved communities. She says she didn't want to come into a community and produce a show; rather, she wanted to give people who might not otherwise be exposed to it the opportunity to create art. She spearheaded a coalition of artists with the same focus and hosted meetings with nonprofits, leaders and advocates to determine demographics of greatest need.

"There's not a lot of arts programming on Saturdays for the children here," Mack says. "I originally wanted to offer the program for the full family, but we saw the moms needed a break. You're not able to focus on these [cultural] activities while figuring out how to pay some bill or look for work or find an apartment. Technically, they're supposed to be always together, but it's tough. Sometimes people need a breather."

The Hope Center is the first organization to benefit from the ARTS Bridge series. Mack and her team are looking to identify two more organizations for the workshops. They split two hours between teaching the children — and sometimes, their parents — West African dance and choreography as well as visual arts techniques with a professional artist. The workshops will culminate in a final event Saturday, Dec. 6 at Spirit Square, with a display of their artwork, artist talkbacks, a dance and presentations.

It's open to the public and the families, "if they feel secure and confident enough to come," Mack says, in reference to the fact that many of the women are in the shelter fleeing intimate partner abuse or other violent situations. This can wreak havoc with young children if they're not given tools to process their experiences.

"Art calms them, centers them," Mack says. "They get to express themselves. Hopefully that will break some cycles."

The majority of the children are under age 10, and today, no mothers are around, but a few older sisters seem to enjoy directing the kids. Charlotte-based artist Catherine Courtlandt is leading the visual arts portion. Known for her intricately detailed goddess portraits, she allows the children to pick from a stack of cut-out animals covered in intriguing symbols and patterns. They are mandalas, spiritual symbols that represent the universe.

That level of artistry is important to Mack. "The techniques they are learning, they will be able to apply for the rest of their lives. Not just coloring or painting, but conceptualizing. It's expression, meditation, execution."

And it appears to be working. With Courtlandt giving instruction, the children, just moments ago pumped from an hour of dance, calm right down and focus. "It's the mandalas," the artist says. "With them, you go into a whole other space. It creates a meditation and chills you right out."

Mack made a conscious decision to get the children creating, as opposed to the traditional mode of passively viewing and consuming art. It's a small piece of agency that can make a big difference in their self esteem and confidence.

"We come out to give the children a chance at experiencing culture, music and art in a way they may not have before," Mack says. "Oftentimes people just view artists' work, but this time they are involved in the creation of art."

Thanks to the Knight's grant, Latricia Penny of Root of the Matter counseling services sits in to observe the workshops' impact on the children. Because the children's attendance can vary from week to week, and because they have so much going on in their lives, observations can be difficult. But it's important, Penny says. "It helps us to determine what to do better in the future. But the kids benefit from it."

The program is not without its bumps. The room where they work is a shared space, and when they are joined by other volunteer groups, it gets quickly crowded. "You have to adapt on your feet and keep going," Mack says. "Once you tell children you will be there for them, you have to be there." So they push the tables back for more room if they can; if they can't, they squeeze in and dance in a tighter circle.

Mack holds a bachelor's in mathematics and physics and has an IT background. She began studying dance in the '90s and has trained under masters of West African dance forms. Earlier this year, she performed for state dignitaries in the Ivory Coast, and has lectured at the Harvey B. Gantt Center since 2012. She holds an artist residency with Charlotte-Mecklenburg schools, teaching dance at J.M. Alexander Middle School, Druid Hills Academy and West Charlotte High School.

Though their affection is evident, the children were not always as open as they are now. "When we first started, they were looking like, 'Who are you?' They were not very welcoming at first," Mack says.

"Usually pupils and parents in this setting are already emotionally guarded," Penny explains, "and therefore may not be as open to direct counseling ... And honestly, seeking out emotional or psychological help is usually not high on the list for people who are trying to get back on their feet.

"But using art allows them to have an emotional and physical outlet ... without sharing any personal information," she continues. "It has also been a noninvasive way to have parents and their children connect and bond without being critiqued or told what and how to do things."

Close to the end of the workshop, a mother comes to retrieve twin siblings. She looks tired, but at her daughter's encouragement sits down and begins working on a mandala of her own. She volunteers regularly to help with ARTS Bridge. "I'm always down here," she says. "It gives my kids something positive to do and keeps them motivated. I love it."

As the children wind down, the sharp smell of onions hits the air. The Vietnamese Association of Charlotte is cooking meals for the residents, and several volunteers in mustard yellow shirts are chopping a mile-high pile of onions. Some of the kids begin to tear up. Others cough uncomfortably. Most continue dancing.