I’m really, really tired. I went to a dance congress this weekend, and in the past 60 hours (two and a half days), I was dancing for 35 of them. That’s 14 hours per day. I also learned a choreography, thought about quitting, performed it, helped teach a class, got a dance massage whatever the hell that means, cried in public, and had an overall great time.
I dance whenever I can. And if I can’t, I cut back on sleep instead of missing a class or a social. It’s been my obsession for over two years and I’ve started asking myself why.
My first ever experience with social dance was square dancing in 4th grade. Like most of the 4th grade, it was stupid, and I didn’t think about it again until I was visiting home in 2015. I have a unique origin story in that my mom invited me to a blues fusion class. I was prepared for an old lady aerobics exercise class but ended up with a sexier, more fun, if not equally uncool version of square dancing. I was good at it, I loved it, and I let myself go with it.
It was also really uncomfortable. My ego has been my own worst enemy since day one. I think most people struggle with this in one way or another. I have to actively tell myself that’s it’s ok if I mess up I dance step. Social dancing is such a microcosm of society, but once I got into it, I started to understand the ego trips that look so ridiculous from the outside. Who cares if you’re a good dancer? Why do these people think so highly of themselves? Dancing has become a measure of my self-worth, and this becomes a problem when I let others dictate that worth by judging myself based on how many people ask me to dance or the quality of a dance. I take everything personally, and I am never more immature and sensitive than I am with my dancing life.
And as weirdly emotional as I can get about dancing, it’s also the only place I have found where I can be truly present. When I’m in a connected dance, I’m not thinking about anything. It may be the space where I am the freest, and it’s addictive. I can measure my progress and feel myself getting better. I can express myself with another person and feel understood.
As I evolved more into this world, I let go of the strangeness of the raging egos and the off-puttingly hilarious costumes that show up in shows and competitions. To be honest I still think the costumes are hilarious. I assume that’s because I haven’t reached a high enough level of dance nirvana to understand the true meaning as to why on earth anyone would do that to themselves but ask me in couple years.
But this isn’t a love letter to dance and there are problems within this community. As will surprise no one, guys are awful. I’ve had a guy grab my face and physical turn my head to look at him before a dance started. I’ve had guys dance too close, be too rough, try to kiss me, tell me they wanted to kiss me and then tell me they knew I wanted to kiss them too because I was acting nervous, and be disappointing and disrespectful in countless other ways. And I’ve heard of much worse happening. Usually, it happens gradually with a dance that started out good. Sometimes it happens with people I know well and have danced with before without incident. I used to think I should stick it out, maybe things would get better, he would read my body language and tone it down. This seldom if ever has actually happened. If anything when a guy notices, instead of trying to actually respond, the energy will be sucked out, and he will grow bored and disinterested in the dance. I’ve read articles dedicated to the techniques follows can use to continue an uncomfortable dance while trying to protect their personal space, because there is no limit to the responsibility that women are expected to take for men’s actions.
It took me up until only recently to start doing the only thing that makes sense to do in this situation: stop dancing. I will stop a dance at any point in a song if a guy is being creepy, if I don’t feel connected, or I if just don’t like his style. And learning to say no after a lifetime of being taught that men’s comfort is more important than women’s safety is empowering. A dance is a 4-minute relationship. Being able to react in the moment and walk away from an investment despite the societal pressure that you need to wait until the end of a song is a perfect practice for identifying and changing how I react to all the bad sex, bad dates, and bad relationships as it happens.
As surprised me, guys are awesome. I have never had close guy friends, (if you’re asking why please refer to the proceeding paragraph and/or the life history of woman everywhere for more info) but I have made close platonic friendships in the dancing community. I have been surprised not just by the friendships I have made with men, but also with people I would never make a connection without outside of dancing. I’m talking bill collector and republican level of outside my comfort zone. I am able to connect with people on and off the dance floor, and the vast majority of guys I know and connect with leave it on the floor. There’s very little creepy advances or trying to take things further than friendship. There’s a lot of thank you for the dance and moving on without trying to get a number or a date. We’re all there for the same reason, we love to dance. The dance community has truly become a safe space for me, where I can have a physical, even sensual connection with someone and expect to be respected and treated as a friend.
Being comfortable with that sensuality is another important aspect that has developed with my dancing. This community is a place for play. My most recent obsession, Kizomba, is danced in a very close embrace. The first time I saw it I thought these people were crazy. The first time I saw Zouk I was shocked. But being able to explore this part of myself publicly and with others has made me more confident and secure in who I am as a whole. There may be other people around, but the time I take to dance is time I am taking for myself.
For this and so many other reasons, I’m grateful that dance has become a part of my life. As I continue to lose sleep and grow as I dancer my reasons for dancing have changed. What started out as a fun hobby has become part of my identity. What was once a challenge and a foreign landscape has become a home. And as I understand dancing and my reasons for spending so much of my time this way, I come understand myself more. And that is a good place to be.
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