Things I’ve changed for dancing.

There are some habits that I’ve gotten into because dancing is such a large part of my life. I don’t really notice them until I have an extended opportunity to break away from them. Since I’m visiting family for a week I’ve been thinking about these things and how they effect my day to day life.  A small and incomplete list:

• jazz shoes in the bag I’m carrying for the day (this used to be dance shoes in the car
• no raw onions in food
• no garlic based foods
• no smelly foods (think curry) day of dancing
• no perfume the day of dancing
• dance bag with toiletries and first aid at the ready to grab and go
• all shirts that I buy don’t ride up when I raise my arm

At this point a majority of these things don’t even take energy for me to do. This dancing thing is such a part of my life that the habits are ingrained and I don’t even remember that I am doing them sometimes.

Another post about solo dancing.

I’ve signed up for a riffing contest, which brings my focus back around to solo dancing. For a long time I was extremely uncomfortable with solo dancing. I was actually extremely uncomfortable with a lot of the space I was given to improvise and express. Dancing is such a physical thing that I am blatantly moving my body in a way that demands attention. Especially expression in following, I feel that the lead must be put upon to accommodate to my body. A part of it probably relates to me mentally understanding that there are some people who might find me attractive, but my body is not anywhere near the standard attractive mold. I do not look around in the media and find reflections of what I have. I do not look at the national level blues dancers and see reflections of what I have. Then it loops back around; because I know that someone to find me attractive must reject the rest of the world, I fail to find myself attractive. It’s an uneasy truce in accepting my general awesomeness and not liking how I look.

Yesterday I danced by myself (in a room with practice partner), and I stared at myself in the mirror. And for the most part it was incredibly difficult. I didn’t want to look at myself. I have to, in order to learn how to feel my lines and what not, but I didn’t want to.
I didn’t want to see my face all flushed. I got sick of my hair flopping about and collecting sweat. I hated most of all the way my clothes clung to different parts of me. I danced and I figured out movements and I learned, but it was a difficult process.

I am particularly concerned that with my distaste toward myself that others will look at me in the same way. The thought of getting up in front of people who will be looking at me, and judging me, and while it will be on my dancing it may also be a bit on my body. There’s always the argument that the lines just don’t work as well for me as for a standardly pretty person. I feel like there’s plenty of things that I’m not technically proficient at, but I’m afraid I could fudge them more if I were not me.

At the end of all this I consider all the people that I look at dance. I never think,” if his ass were just a little firmer this would work”. I think things like” wow!” or “I want to be that ballsy”. I know that the people I’m drawn to, that I find beautiful are not the standard mold of beauty, and that it’s ok. That it’s better than ok, it’s one of the wonderful things that makes them interesting and enriching to my life.

Wardrobe requirements

Recently a professional I see often was wearing jeans. She specifically mentioned that she was taking advantage of her works “casual Friday” policy. I realized then that I don’t really have a distinction between professional clothing and every day clothing. I’m as likely to wear jeans to school as I am to wear nice slacks. My only real differentiation is for dancing.

I have a collection of dresses that exist in my closet solely because I can wear them out dancing. They are comfortable, often sleeveless. I test them out in the dressing room by doing a few squats and seeing if they ride up too much. Sometimes a dress behaves in ways that I don’t expect, but I generally am able to pick out the ones I’ll be comfortable dancing in. I’m much more concerned that I am comfortable than well dressed. Ideally though, I combine the two.

Why writing is not perfect communication

The most obvious part is that there is no perfect communication. Any time you try to take an idea from your brain and transfer it to another’s there will be loss or distortion of parts of that idea. That’s why we have conversations. We can exchange an idea and then refine it until each person is pretty sure the other gets what they are saying. In conversations we generally consider many things to make sure our conversational partner is with us. We look at their body language, their gaze, we listen to their tone of voice. Most times we know the people that we are conversing with, or the conversations are to get to know them better.

When we begin to print our ideas we take away many of the cues that allow us to help others clearly get our ideas. Text conveys no tone on its own. The difference between a lighthearted jab and a cruel insult can often be understood in vocalization, and better with body language. In text it falls to the receiver to add more levels of interpretation. We do not get to see people as they read our words. We cannot gauge reactions and cannot make clarifications. Those receiving our words will go forward with whatever misunderstandings they began with, unless we foresee the misunderstanding and write (sometimes far too much) to guide them to our exact standpoint.

I think that when we begin to write our thoughts and ideas down we as “writers” need to consider every part of the previous paragraph. I might make an offhanded comment on my face book page and trust that my friends know me well enough to tell that I am joking. On the other hand, I am not going to be surprised that someone from Montana that I met once at a dance exchange in Pennsylvania is kind of freaked out by what I said. Blogging goes a step beyond that. It introduces people who are strangers to you entirely, who may have one tenuous commonality with you to your ideas. Hyperbole and satire and certain types of humor are all but impossible without a large shared base of understanding. Sometimes these understandings come from more than the larger culture, but also the niches that people find for themselves. For example, American conservatives, who for things except political ideology share culture with America liberals don’t get that the Colbert Report is a joke. A joke about them even.

I hang out around parts of the internet that exposes me to the blogging of other dancers. It is usually a pleasure to read what others have to say about dancing. Some people I find to express ideas in ways that I get. They talk about topics that I’m interested in and they put them rather well. Others may talk about things that I don’t care about so much. They might not write well enough to engage me. I generally find that I don’t bother to read their work with any regularity. Not a big deal. Recently there has been a bit of tension between people that I only know of, because I read their blogs. Some of this tension, if not all of the tension, has come from the fact that readers have interpreted ideas differently than the writers meant them. In defending the posts people have said something along the lines of  “but [writer/ I’m] not [whatever label people used in criticism eg. sexist], [writer/I] was using [humor/ hyperbole] to make a point”. The problem here is exactly what was said before. I don’t know the writers. Lots of people don’t know the writers. The writers used language very similar to that which people who really believe the position use. There was little indication that they meant to be joking. Yet when the words went out into the world without tone, without face to face communication it was expected that the fact that it was a joke to come across.

I try very hard to make my indications clear. I’ve put disclaimers on my hyperbole. However I also know that people might find offense with things that I write. It may because I’m unclear. It may be because my experience is limited, and I don’t know all of the things that are possible. Call me on it. I’ll try and expand.

Problematic Lyrics

Not too long ago someone asked if DJ’s should not be playing songs that mention gun violence following a lot of media attention to such violence. My gut reaction is of course not. We should not be censoring expression just because it might make someone uncomfortable.

However, I have begun to curate and maintain a collection of music. Mostly for my own pleasure. Partially for dancing to. Even more partially for playing for other people to dance to. There are songs in my collection that I really like. I enjoy them for various reasons. Some of them, those reasons completely exclude the lyrics.

I have a hard time with songs that have lyrics that are particularly sexist. Cold Turkey, a cool dancable fusion or crossover piece is a great example. I love the instrumentation, particularly the rhythm section. I think Anthony David’s voice is hot. The lyrics however:

Cold turkey, you can’t expect me to quit, do you baby?
Cold turkey, feelings don’t go away so easy
Just a little more time and I swear I’ll leave you alone
But tonight I got this jones coming down

It’s 3 o’clock and I woke up with the shakes
So I called you up for the remedy
I know I woke ya, get on up I’m coming over
And don’t be acting like you don’t remember me

This is how the song begins. This man isn’t over a relationship that has ended, calls his ex at three in the morning and demands that she wake up because he is going to be there. Not only that, but he’s clearly not welcome. In the background of the song, there are voices like a phone call, making it clear that she has deleted his number.This song suggests that it is ok for this man to go over to the house of a woman who doesn’t want him around. That makes me uncomfortable. Yet I love to dance to it. I love when it comes on even though the lyrics creep me out.

In my collection there’s another offender:

When she leaves
She’s just asking
To be followed
When she walks out
All she wants is
To be lead
All my boys say
She’s just asking for it
And I aint sayin’ nothing
She couldn’t care less
Wearing that dress

Do I even need to explain why this might be problematic? Catchy catchy song though.

Now I have to reconcile how much I want to dance to these songs with how icky they make me feel. If I am playing music, should I play them because everything else about them is great, and dancers so rarely listen to the lyrics? If I start to keep some of my songs out of rotation where do I draw the line. Does that awesome song about a woman murdering her husbands count?

I wish that I lived in a world where a song like that was met with shock and disgust rather than being totally normal.

Being the party starter

In December Ruby wrote a blog post about how dance culture is separate. There were many things that I understood from my experiences in the dancing community and out of it. She addresses how most people think of dancing as a thing that is done by other people,

The social pressure not to dance is stronger, only because there is so much shame and fear around who we are. We are not beautiful enough, not coordinated enough and certainly not talented enough, because to ‘have rhythm’ is somehow viewed as having a talent, and to move in a coordinated manner is somehow a skill. Never mind that the heart pumps in a rhythm, and the body naturally balances itself around a shifting axis with every step. Never mind that generations of people can move their pelvises with enough coordination to procreate, and can independently control their limbs enough to operate a vehicle while texting or smoking a cigarette. Dancing is in our bodies and the way we live, but we are cut off from it by our mental constructs.

I understand this being a constraint. I dance or practice dancing on subway platforms all the time. It is an entirely different thing to do it and mean it. It is very different to catch a musicians eye and dance to their music. It causes me anxiety to even think that people might be looking at me dancing. They might judge how I’m doing it, even though I mean it only as a physical form of expression. I think that we agree that it only takes a tiny push to get people to dance. She recalls a scene where

[The front-man] called out the girls on the fringe who were obviously wanting to dance, there was a brief explosion of shaking and shimmying. It wasn’t beautiful or coordinated, but spirited and free.

I have as part of a small group in a large crowd, been the tipping point in getting people to dance. In the picture above we were at a dj’ed music night in a museum. The music was cheesy, but blasting. Our group, slightly lost without dance embrace, started doing our silliest strangest solo-ing. Quickly a circle formed. One of our group (not me ) made eye contact with someone in the crowd and basically pulled them into dancing. With that one little break, a change came over the group and most people were dancing. People want to dance. Seeing others do so gives them the permission to do it themselves.

Now I personally want to have as many people as possible to dance with in the blues scene. I think that a great way  new dancers is to let the public see dancers. Going to music festivals, bars, live music venues etc. let the public see us. Sometimes we get people dancing with us despite them not being “dancers”. Many times this can serve as a first step. I want to dance in public more often and I want you to do it with me.

Dancer

I feel like in society there is a certain connotation to the word dancer. I’m not sure that I’m comfortable with it. First I think everyone should go read this post by Ruby Red. I have two things that I want to say about it, but the second can wait for another day.

 

But the first is directly related to this quote

Against this particular backdrop, dance culture appears rare and stylized. The rest of America sits and watches, observing, consuming, but not participating. The few of us who dance are outside the lines, a little strange, or perhaps specially talented. It’s like music culture. Done by ‘others,’ ‘artists’

Going through undergrad people in classes with me would find out that my hobby is to dance. I would spend time trying to explain my hobby. Time and time again trying to stress that what I did wasn’t very formal. That I danced with a partner. That it was social and I liked the people and the skills were secondary. Yet despite all my explanations I became the classes token dancer. I remember in a sport psychology class my teacher asided “you understand, being a dancer”.  Sitting in that class, my teacher calling me out in front of all my peers who I knew had the same opinion; I wanted to say, but no, I’m not a dancer, not a real dancer. I’ve spent years trying to delineate what separates me. I spend most my free time dancing. Most of my entertainment budget is spent on dances and lessons and exchanges. Most of my friends are people that I dance with.

In my denial there is the complimentary dismissal by people who feel that they are real dancers. My school advisor said something along the lines of folk dances are so people who have no technique can enjoy music. He was lumping swing and salsa and blues all together in this. I have decided however, I will take the label if people want to give it to me. Everyone has their won abilities toward skill or technique. I don’t know the gate keeper, and I’m not going to become one. Lets all be dancers.

Dancing with my friends

My dance friends are people that I enjoy dancing with. I’ve no idea if I feel friendly toward them because i like how they dance with me, or if we dance well because I feel friendly toward them. No matter what, these are the people what I will seek out before I go. I give them hugs when one of us comes into a dance. Many of my dance friends do lindy hop as well as blues. Lindy hop is the weakest of my dance skills. I only vaguely understand the basic. I officially learned the swingout once, and since haven’t really practiced it. I am confused by all the “slangy” moves that aren’t really lead, but expected that I would know.

Sometimes I go out to a Bar that is very small and only attracts maybe ten dancing couples at a time. Most people who are there are not dancers, just there to have a drink and enjoy some jazz. The combination of most people not being dancers and so few dancers being around I feel much more comfortable dancing with the same two or three people the entire night. They are always my dance friends from blues. There is a freedom that I find dancing with them. I’m familiar with how they move and not afraid of missing cues. I know they like dancing with me and not worried about having to prove myself a worthy or fun partner. I know them, and so am not afraid to bring the silly, the melodramatic, the intense. There is an openness to those dances that is so rare.

Meeting in the middle

There’s a lot of concern about being able to pick up on your partners intentions and moods so to be on the same page as them. However, I am doubtful that without the specificity of language we can ask a partner to know the exact mood we are feeling. Also, I feel it may be ridiculous for even the most empathic of a  person to have the same emotional state as their partner without coming to the dance from the same circumstances. A fantastic teacher not long ago pointed out that it’s really very selfish to force our expectation of an emotional state onto our partners.

It makes little sense to be ecstatic while your partner is holding back tears. However if we could range emotions from positive to negative and from intense to mellow you might have things like grumpy and surly or thrilled and delirious clumping together in ways that we can match up for a dance. Even better when the song sets one of the parameters. How often though do we ignore the parameters set by the song. How difficult can it be to come off of a dance that was intense and try to contort yourself to a new emotion? I’ve been known to sit out a song or two for exactly that reason.

What Color is the Sky

This past weekend I had a long and rambling conversation that covered all sorts of topics. One of the topics, which I keep poking at, talking and thinking about is appropriation. I’m not entirely comfortable being a person with a trajectory into the high middle socioeconomic class, of European heritage and dancing (primarily) blues.

At some point the conversation wrapped around to the nature of blues dancing and my friend echoed a point made by a teacher to her once. Africans being poly-theistic (but not having the same polytheisim when they were brought to America) mostly had gods that resided in the earth. Christianity (forced on them) a god that resided in the sky. Their lives on the earth were troubled, difficult and sometimes downright agonizing, yet they were promised eternal heavenly bliss. So one of the embodiment of blues is the tension between earth and sky. This I can identify with. I grew up rural, but live in the big city. I am the most educated of my family. I am expected to make a starting wage which will be more than both my parents combined. My parents both moved from east to west, and I have moved east. I have roots, but they are shallow and I actively keep them from being exposed. Tension I know. Tension I understand.