Joy de Leon beams under her Santa hat as she takes the stage with about a dozen other women, lining up for a performance they’ve practiced for weeks.
The first few notes of “Silver Bells” boom over the speakers, and the group — dressed in matching red-and-white outfits — moves in sync, lifting their arms and stepping together in graceful turns. De Leon leads the way, gliding across the gym floor at Blaine Memorial United Methodist Church, where nearly 200 people are gathered for an annual holiday party.
It’s a bittersweet show for the 76-year-old.
At the end of the year, de Leon plans to retire from her gig teaching line dancing to adults 55 and older at Asian Counseling and Referral Service.
She lives in Snohomish, and the hourlong drive to the Seattle nonprofit several times a week is hard. Her family wants her to relax more as she gets older, and she’s busy enough as it is, spending time with her three kids and 10 grandchildren, who are scattered around the Puget Sound area.
Still, de Leon — who was born as Ligaya, which means “happiness” in Tagalog — delights in teaching dance to the community she’s found at ACRS in the last seven years.
“The seniors think it’s just their exercise, but it’s my exercise, too,” she says with a laugh. “I love it.”
De Leon’s class is one place at ACRS where many Asian American and Native Hawaiian/Pacific Islander residents in Washington have found a home. The 52-year-old Rainier Valley organization serves tens of thousands of people every year, and is among the 13 social service nonprofits that benefit from reader donations to The Seattle Times’ annual Fund for Those in Need.
Last year, ACRS served more than 30,000 people through a range of programs, including 15,000 registered clients, according to the organization. About 85% are AANHPI clients, and 80% are low-income.
Each year, The Seattle Times Fund for Those in Need raises money for charities that help children, families and older adults. Throughout the season, we tell the stories of people and organizations who make a difference in the lives of thousands, and the impact donors can have.
About 450 or so are members of Club Bamboo, a center for older AANHPI residents that offers a range of extracurricular activities, from tai chi to badminton to resistance training.
“We know a lot of our seniors do live by themselves” and can feel like the days move slowly, said Bonita Cheng, ACRS’ senior center coordinator. “But by the end of the day here, I’ve heard seniors say, ‘Wow, today went by fast.'”
Among Club Bamboo members is Anna Trinh, who has participated in exercise and dance classes there for several years. Her favorite activity is karaoke.
Trinh also signed up to perform at Club Bamboo’s holiday party this month. Her group was up first, kicking off the event with a lively dance to a Vietnamese rendition of “Jingle Bells.”
“These activities keep me young at heart,” said the 79-year-old Lynnwood resident, who left Vietnam by boat after the Vietnam War.
She faced many hardships and discrimination during her first few years here, Trinh said, but has since found a warm and welcoming community through ACRS and other social clubs.
After their “Jingle Bells” dance, Trinh and her group — dressed in floor-length lavender gowns — laughed and chatted over a lunch of chow mein and papaya salad. As other Club Bamboo members shared their own performances, including a glittery fashion show, they cheered and took videos on their phones.
“I’m happy here,” Trinh said. “I mainly come (to ACRS) to see the people.”
A little of everything
On a recent weekday, the three-floor building on Martin Luther King Jr. Way South buzzes with activity.
Social workers and mental health therapists meet with clients in private counseling rooms. Larger classrooms are filled with students of all ages, studying digital literacy skills, naturalization questions and steps to employment. A pharmacy, staffed in partnership with International Community Health Services, dispenses medication and offers a place for people to seek some basic health care.
In one third-floor classroom, ESL teacher Erik Bodlaender watches his students work on their final project: mock job interviews.
“Do you have experience driving?” an ACRS case manager, acting as a hiring manager, asks one student in a group of four.
“Yes,” the student says.
“Can you tell me more?”
“I used to drive a cab in my home country,” the student recites.
The case manager nods, then moves on to the next student. “What job are you applying for? How did you hear about it?”
All lessons during the 11-week quarter lead up to this, Bodlaender said. Over the last couple of months, he had students practice sending emails, reading job postings and other listening and writing exercises.
On the bottom floor of ACRS, more than 20 Club Bamboo members are in the middle of a tai chi class.
Some watch from the back of the room, while others are planted at tables to the side, immersed in games of mahjong and chess.
“Hopefully, people can build friendships here,” said Cheng, the Club Bamboo coordinator. “No matter what age we’re at, we need to have something to look forward to when you wake up in the morning.”
On a given week, Cheng estimated around 150 people, mostly age 60 to 90, come through the center for classes, lunch or social time.
In addition to Club Bamboo, ACRS offers a handful of other aging and adult services, providing assistance to homebound adults and people with disabilities, connections to long-term care resources and groceries through the organization’s food bank.
For de Leon, ACRS kick-started a new chapter.
She found the organization in 2018, after retiring from a job she’d held at an aerospace manufacturing company for two decades. For awhile, “I just stayed at home and did nothing,” de Leon said.
Then one of her daughters, who used to work at ACRS as a psychologist, suggested she check out Club Bamboo’s activities. De Leon tried yoga first, then discovered the line dance class. She connected with it immediately.
It brought back memories of group dancing in the Philippines, de Leon said. After college, she had been part of a tinikling troupe, performing the traditional Filipino folk dance in different countries.
“That’s why I love music,” de Leon said.
When she moved from the Philippines to Los Angeles with her family in 1988, she stopped dancing professionally or even regularly, until she began attending Club Bamboo classes.
In 2020, about 20 years after de Leon moved to Seattle, the COVID-19 pandemic halted all in-person programs at the senior center. Some fitness classes were eventually moved online and dubbed “Cloud Bamboo.” But most others, including line dancing, were not.
By the time classes restarted in 2022, the previous line dance instructor planned to step down. She encouraged de Leon to take her place.
“I thought I wouldn’t be good. But she said, ‘Joy, you can do it. I can tell,’” de Leon said. “I’m so happy I accepted.”
‘Every day is a favorite memory’
Kit Lam Poon often attends Club Bamboo classes every day.
She’s fond of exercise, painting and other craft sessions, but de Leon’s twice-a-week line dance class is one of her favorites.
“When I come here, I feel comfortable,” Lam Poon said in Cantonese, sharing details with the help of an interpreter. “Joy is so clear and easy to follow.”
The 79-year-old moved to the U.S. from Hong Kong decades ago, and now lives on Beacon Hill. She sometimes brings her husband to ballroom dance classes, but also just enjoys hanging out with friends she’s met through ACRS.
“Every day is a favorite memory,” she said.
A few Club Bamboo members come just for de Leon’s classes, Cheng said.
“She’s adored,” Cheng said. “She’s spunky, but at the same time, very gracious. The seniors love her, she loves the seniors.”
De Leon’s playlist ranges in genre, from ‘70s pop anthems to ‘90s country songs. Sometimes they dance the Electric Slide.
“As long as it’s easy and the seniors can move to it, I like it,” de Leon said.
By the time her group finished their performance at the holiday party — ending with a faster-paced “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” — nearly half the room was on their feet, dancing and clapping along.
Then it was time for a surprise for their beloved teacher.
“Joy, you can’t leave yet. Sit here,” Cheng said, ushering her into a chair at the center of the room.
Members lined up in front of her, breaking into a serenade of “The Moon Represents My Heart,” a Mandarin tune de Leon loves.
De Leon buried her face in her hands, growing emotional. She vowed she would continue to come to ACRS occasionally as a class participant.
“Thank you for all these years,” Cheng said. “You’re true to your name. You bring joy to everyone.”