Dancing: Games and the Appearance of Effortlessness

I think one of the interesting principles of dance is that: You don't have it down until it looks effortless.

Kyra Gaunt talks about this a bit in her introduction to The Games Black Girls Play, which is an interesting look at the history of African-American women's contributions to music and dance. So, the poly-rhythms that we start learning as children in game settings - how fast can you rhythmically hand clap? - become useful later on in relating music history and social interaction.

Until doing the sequences of double dutch (a particular skill I never mastered) or drumming and dancing simultaneously, appear as though it were effortless, you can't consider the skill mastered. Because studying these rhythms were part of 'play,' outside people consider them to be innate. I spent hours on the playground with Miss Mary Mack, and Down Down Baby, and can play them still with women in previous generations. It belies all of the time and energy I expended into learning and practicing these rhythmic configurations during recess.


In an effort to separate themselves from other dances that have strict competitions and standings, I think that the Lindy Hop community has over-emphasized the idea that anyone can just 'pick this up'. It's not true, for one, and the skills that we use as adults were practiced as children. I can learn how to dance salsa or tango much easier because of my childhood training in ballet and lyrical. And while dance is inherently social, whether you dance solo, in a group or with a partner, it is also one of the earliest forms of storytelling and communication.When I dance, I tell a story with my movements and my body.

The appearance of effortlessness is deceiving, because it does not account for all of the study, training and practice. I have a friend who won the novice ballroom championship this year. People attribute his win to innate talent, which does not account for the weeks that he spent more time analyzing, practicing and training in dance than at his full time job. I can appreciate that. I think it is a false narrative that artistic talent is innate only. It's both innate and the result of skills honed.

When I perform or hit the social floor, you only see the result of study and training, not the time and energy I invested into it. Which is as it should be. I don't want others to watch me learn, I want to work out what I learned. But the learning takes time. I took a private lesson from Dexter back in March, and took notes on the different things that we worked on and ways to improve. Only now in June am I starting to really hone into what he was telling me. It's not that he didn't tell me these things or that I'm an especially slow student; it just took time to translate what he was telling me to how I was moving, and then practice the skill in the correct way.

So, this weekend, I'm excited to test out all these skills on dancers from all over the world. Huzzah!

Dance: To Travel or Not to Travel

Kelly Porter - Words to Lindy Hoppers
My html skills are lacking when it comes to embedding non-Youtube Videos, but the above video made the circuits this past week, and was posted, re-posted and discussed.

I have to say, she really hits home on this issue.

I moved to this city nearly 2 years ago, because I was visiting on a regular basis for any amount of dancing to be had. I felt that it was time to strike out for new professional and personal opportunities, and the dance community was a large part of that. But I was tired. I was tired of always racking up miles on my car, eating bad fast food en route to dances, sleeping in sleeping bags on floors, and having to choose between dance (in another city) and life. It's fun to be the unknown element for a little while, but nice to recognize familiar faces.


I love travel, I love meeting new people, but when it comes down to it, what I really want in a scene is to be able to call up a few dancers, and hit the local blues bar. We're inundated with good music, every single night of the week, so why should I need to travel to have a decent dance?

Yet, travel is seen as a sign of wanting to improve, of being 'serious' about your dance, which strikes me as true to a point. Dancing with better or different dancers will improve your overall social dancing, by allowing you to experience different styles of dance. However, lessons, practicing solo movement (hips challenge, solo jazz, etc...) or sitting down with a partner to analyze your swingouts will also improve your dancing.

Coming from a scene that lacked the infrastructure, I know that I'm fortunate to be in a location that affords me good, experienced teachers with a variety of perspectives.

And while I commiserate with a follow who wished for a practice partner to whip her into shape, instead of the other way around, I still think that investing in your own scene yields the best returns. I like practicing with the people around me, to get our scene to be the destination others want to visit, rather than perpetually fleeing for other scenes.

The Followers Manifesto

 [Photo from goslinglindyhops.tumblr.com]

 I started swing dancing in the summer of 2007. It was a goal that I had set for the summer, along with an expansive book list, mastery of several languages, and solving world hunger. All totally attainable things, right? Of course, right!

I was on a temporary dance hiatus at the time. I grew up dancing solo and in teams, but outside of random musicals, had never experimented in partner dancing. But many of my feminist friends have trouble inhabiting a dance that came from a time when women had only just gotten the right to vote. They see taking on the followers role as being passive and not contributing to the dance itself.

As a dancer who gave up her ballerina dreams due to beginning at the ripe old age of 8, dancing had always been something that I did for myself, alone or with a team who danced the exact same moves to the music. It was cooperative, in a way that made you a team member not a spontaneous contributor. It was only much later that I began to learn dance as a conversation, instead of dance as a teammate.

So, to start off, let's consider a chart, that I believe to be remarkably accurate:

[Via Addicted2Salsa]

Leading is hard. Following is hard. But they are harder at different points due to the nature of the role. It just makes for a different learning curve, rather than assuming that one is inherently more difficult. Followers learn how to move themselves and listen. Leads learn to move themselves, and communicate their movements to their partners. But learning the opposite role has the potential to break through the plateau, which is especially valuable.

Which brings us to:

Le Manifesto

1. When not injured nor exhausted, I will do my best to say yes to every lead, regardless of skill level. When the lead vs. follower ratio is off-balance, I will seek out likely leads and ask for dances. Likely-looking leads are often easy to spot: shoes on, glancing around the dance floor, open posture. Inviting is part of the reciprocal nature of the dance, by making it more social. This exempts dancers who have previously caused injury. If you have hurt me physically or emotionally in the past, I have the right to refuse any dance.

This one is especially important when you're the newcomer to the scene. When I visited Dallas, it was interesting to watch the social dynamics, as the 'unknown quantity.' Having not set foot in the city's dance scene before, nobody who asked me to dance knew what to expect until they either danced with me or saw me dance with someone else. But being the unknown also gave me the ability to ask anyone. Being the unknown element gave me a chance to truly follow, instead of relying on a shared bit of choreography that we learned at a class together. It helped me learn different cues, and what they could mean in this shared time and space.

Yet, even though we encourage people to dance with all levels of dancers, injury lasts a long time. One of the hardest personal times came when during a theater warm-up game, a boy knocked into me, stepped on my foot and broke it, taking me out of the performance that night. And onto crutches for the next 2 months. Since most of my social life revolved around dancing and friends at dances (social and other), it was a very difficult time to simply get around. It is never worth it to dance with someone who hurts you.

2. During the dance, I will listen to the lead, and respond to their suggestions. I will take each suggestion and follow it to the best of my capability. If left room for improv and my own remarks, I will put them to good use, but the integrity of the following won't be changed. I may add movements inside the rhythm, but I will not attempt to establish my own rhythm, and will maintain the rhythm set by the lead.

3. After the dance is completed, I will always smile and say thank you. It's common courtesy, people. Yes, some people are intimidating, or you intimidate them. It happens. But being courteous and polite will go far.


This manifesto is open to change, depending on the circumstances and growth of said dancers. But it's a place to start.