On the realities of public dancing

Today I sat in Starbucks after my final and enjoyed a pumpkin spiced latte in an attempt to relax and empty my mind for a moment. During my time here I observed a few separate instances of toe tapping on the tile floor by customers waiting to receive their beverages of choice.

The first of these was a younger gentleman, I would place him in his early twenties, who proceeded to make his own little dance along with one of the swinging Christmas tunes playing over the speakers. His dance focused primarily around an idea of tap dancing with a little bit of head nodding thrown on for good measure. My initial reaction was to think he looked a little silly. Not too silly, he wasn’t being ridiculous. Just amusing. This followed with the recognition that he is simply having a good time and enjoying the music.

Fast forward about an hour. Yes, I’ve been here a while. This scene opens with quite a different cast. This time, it features a grey-haired woman in a, as Erin would say, sassy red pea coat. While waiting for her drink, our ears were serenaded with a delightful folk-blues inspired rendition of a Christmas song. This thumping tune resulted in her own dance which was a sort of heal and toe stomp in her clicky little black pumps.

The third and final dance that represents the direction all of this observation is pointing. Children are probably the most frequent dancers in our culture. It comes with being antsy while waiting for the parents.

Somewhere along the timeline of getting older, it became less acceptable for people to dance in public. Dancing is one of the ultimate outward expressions of joy. For many, it represents letting loose and forgetting your worries by getting lost in the music. This statement lends it self to the idea that dancing is therefore reserved for specific places and times in which music is the main feature. This statement becomes null and void when you go to many concerts where people feel content to cross their arms over their white v-neck and American apparel hoodie and maybe tap their heal a little bit without allowing themselves to feel free enough to truly let the music influence their movements, therefore eliminating true enjoyment of the music. As an aside, while I do realize that I did in some regard describe myself, minus the American apparel, while I do stick to the basics, I would like to point out that this is as much an introspective critique as it is cultural critique.

I would like to gain back the freedom to let go of my inhibitions and let the music take me away, as cliché as that sounds. I invite and encourage you to join me in my quest for freedom. One option is to take a moderate approach and allow yourself the freedom to dance in culturally acceptable dance appropriate situations such as concerts, dance parties, and library raves (that means you, all of you grumpy looking people who simply looked down from the second floor thinking you were too cool or too studious to have a good time). To those who feel more radical in their desire to see dance become an acceptable form of expression, I encourage you to embrace the spontaneous dance party or simple do a little dance when your song comes on in the grocery. I challenge you, yes, you. Crank up that music in the parking lot and get out and dance. Nod your head like yeah! Move your hips like yeah! Turn up that Empire State of Mind and cut loose on the sidewalk. Whatever the flavor, make it your own.