This paper examines how the historical punishment of the dancing body in (post)colonial contexts has been a measure for controlling the mind and undertaking effective cultural imperialism. I bring to focus the striking global dance movement to revitalise oppressed dance forms, in an effort to do what Tuhiwai Smith calls 'the recovery of ourselves'. Borrowing from Freire's notion of 'the pedagogy of the oppressed', I begin with a discussion about dance pedagogy as a tool for decolonisation. The work of Katherine Dunham is highlighted to exemplify critical postcolonial dance recovery and pedagogy. In addition, relevant literature is reviewed to explore the colonisation of indigenous dance practices and how dance is being innovated and regenerated to reclaim the intellectual, spiritual and cultural knowledge that make up a people.

This dance ethnography highlights the work of the Dambe Project (DP), a non-profit organization based in Tucson, Arizona that specializes in West African dance education. The study demonstrates Guinea dance to be a provider of transformative knowledge, and analyses how the pedagogy and final performance provided high school students the opportunity for constructing (post)colonial and self-knowledge that enriches their lives both culturally and spiritually. This research strives to provide a West African understanding of dance that informs teaching philosophies, as well as what Karen Clemente (2008) calls ‘the spiritual realm and potential of our pedagogies’.

This dance ethnography examines work conducted by the Dambe Project-a nonprofit organization that specializes in African performing arts education and mentorship. The study focuses on the implications of the organization's dance pedagogy in light of its postcolonial context and the importance of West African dance education in the United States. The study strives to be a conversation between the fields of anthropology and education, dance studies and postcolonial studies. [pedagogy, African dance, urban education, decolonization]In a large rectangular dance studio, its back wall lined with windows inviting sunlight into the room, students were working in groups of two and four polishing their choreography. On the opposite side the rest of the class sat in a circle on the floor. Susan Baker, the teacher I worked with that year, sat next to me. We were discussing the cultural context of the West African dance we were studying. Our dialogue covered issues of language diversity, climate, the major cities, the environmental landscape and French colonialism. Right away, a student named Reya asked "What is colonialism?" Although I was not prepared for that question, I tried my best to answer. I said, "Ok, I want you to imagine another country coming to our country, replacing our government with theirs, replacing our schools with theirs, replacing our languages with theirs." "Really?" said a student named Keisha. "Yeah, this happened in Guinea and in the United States too; I want you to think about the changes this would bring about and how it might feel," I responded. I knew colonialism was more complicated than this but I wanted to give them a historical picture and explain why French is an official language. I wanted to teach dance not simply as a performing art but also as a cultural text for understanding the social world. 1

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