Buen Ache founder and PKN3 presenter Julia Jaskwich shared with the PKN attendees her journey to dance. Her self-examination was candid and moving. She provided her remarks for reproduction here.
Good Evening and Buenas Tardes!
My name is Julia Jaskwhich and I am artistic director of Buen Ache dance company, an Afro-Latino dance company based here in Charleston.
As you can guess based on our name, Buen Ache dances a style of dance that combines Latin and African elements. We perform traditional Afro-Latino dances, such as the Cha Cha, the Afro-Cuban Rumba, and the Dominican Merengue. We also choreograph new styles of dance. We have a dance called “Palo” that tells the story of a slave rebellion in Cuba, and one called “Negroide” that depicts the work of sugar cane cutters in coastal Peru. Our dances tell stories that depict the richness and diversity of Afro-Latino culture.
This evening I’m going to tell you a little about my story, and then I’ll perform a dance called Merengue with a few of my dancers so you can get a little of the flavor of what we do.

Buen Ache performs the Merengue at PKN3
So lets start with some background about me.
As I am not a Latina, and not of African descent, this journey of mine is somewhat unusual. I was born here in SC and raised in the traditional lifestyle of most white south carolinians, meaning that I had virtually no exposure to anything culturally enlightening throughout most of my childhood.
I would say that I have always loved to dance, but the truth is that during my childhood the only dances I knew of were Ballet, Modern, and Jazz– none of which interested me in the slightest degree.
I actually had no clue that I loved to dance until I my early teen years, when I first saw Hip Hop at my predominantly African American high school, which, due to the notorious segregation still so prevalent in the southern US, was actually really my first true exposure to the culture of Black America.
At that time during the 90′s the dance known as the “butterfly”, which had come to the US from the West Indies, was all the rage. I saw it at my high school and was determined to learn it.
Later in my teen years I made friends with a Puerto Rican woman and first saw Salsa and Merengue. I was spellbound.
I had absolutely no clue how to do these dances, and my attempts at dancing were miserably devoid of any authentic flavor. Luckily I was somewhat oblivious to all this, otherwise I think I would have been too defeated to continue.
I don’t remember the exact sequence of what happened next, but somewhere along the line I saw a West African dance performance, and I fell in love with this style of dance as well.
My quest to learn African and Latin dances was one filled with stumbling blocks, many unfriendly stares, a lot of embarrassment, some complete humiliation, and many unsuccessful attempts to be accepted as a dancer.
As a result of the stigma and embarrassment I felt about trying to dance kinds of dance that a white girl wasn’t supposed to do, I decided that leaving the US to study dance would give me a far better chance at learning both African and Latin styles of dance.
So I made my way across the Atlantic to Guinea, West Africa and also to Havana, Cuba, where I spent a few months dancing every day for many hours with local dancers. These experiences were perhaps some of the most fulfilling and encouraging I have ever had in my dance career. Every day in Guinea, members of the surrounding neighborhoods came out to see me perform what I had spent the day learning. At the end of my short and rather unimpressive performance, I was met with cheers and smiles and congratulations, most of which were completely undeserved and overly generous.
These dance experiences transformed my perceptions of both myself and the meaning, or rather lack of meaning, of one’s ethnicity, class, and race.
As a result of my exposure to many different cultures, throughout a decade of world travel, I have come to see that these culturally defined boundaries are artificial and imaginary.
And so, as if in defiance to the values of a culturally and racially confining background, I created the dance company, Buen Ache, in 2006, and began this amazing journey of choreographing and directing an Afro-Latino dance company.
As if in tribute to my own refusal to stay in my place, this little dance company of mine has grown and diversified. Right now, we have 10 dancers of differing nationalities, including a West Indian, an Italian, a Mexican, a Vietnamese, a Costa Rican, a Puerto Rican, a French dancer, and a bunch of stubborn Americans who apparently don’t know that they are doing something quite outside of their cultural realm.
And now, without further adieu, it is my pleasure to perform with a few of my dancers, a dance called Merengue. Like almost everything else we do, this dance is a not a straight up Merengue, but a fusion of a lot of dance styles.
Thanks for having me this evening, and enjoy the dance.