My argument against 2-couple dances in 4-couple sets

I'm not sure I've ever written this post, and I just made reference in a bio that points at this blog, so here we go. If you don't dance Scottish Country Dance, this may not make the slightest bit of sense to you. That's okay.

I don't think two-couple dances should be danced in four-couple sets.

I wouldn't think of this as a particularly controversial statement to make, but I've gotten some very confused and blank looks when I've tried making this assertion. My reason is simple --I want to have as much dancing as possible. When you dance a two couple dance in a four couple set, at least traditionally, where only the 1s start as active, then the original 3s and 4s lose out on a round of dancing. I find that terrible.

(Don't believe me? The eight rounds of a two/four dance go like this, with italics meaning the couple is dancing and bold meaning they're active. Couples keep their original number throughout:

4321
4312
4132
1423
1243
2134
2314
3241

If you count it up, 1s dance six times (3 active), 2s six times (3 active), 3s five times (3 active) and 4s five times (2 active). 3s and 4s lose out on a round of dancing, with the 4s being deprived of one round as active.)

Luckily there are some very simple fixes to the problem, to ensure that everyone in the hall gets an equal amount of dancing (as it should be). My favourite is just encouraging the dance to be done in a three-couple sets instead, and the musicians play six times through.

You can also solve the problem by having the 1s and 3s start in the first round. I recognize that this is not the "proper" way to do things, but it makes it so everyone gets six rounds of dancing (and 3 rounds as the active couple). It may feel a little weird for the 3s, who spend one round active, then several rounds moving up the set before they are active again, but if contra dancers can manage that sort of weird reversal, us SCDers certainly can.

(When I'm being especially irreverent, I will also suggest the "solution" of having the musicians play the music nine times through instead of the typical eight, so that the 4s can finish their last round active. I suspect that this would lead to people tripping all over the dance floor in confusion, however, and would probably cause the 1s to start again, thereby not really solving the problem of inequitable dancing in the first place.)

So dear Scottish Dancers, here's my plea: I want to dance as much as possible. When I find myself as the third or fourth couple in a 2-couple dance, I know that I'm not going to get as much dancing as other people and I find that unfortunate. Please, encourage a dance floor where everyone gets in as much dancing as possible --stop regimenting your two-couple dances into strictly four-couple sets with only the ones active.

Modern Waltz Music

In a fortnight, it will be Splash, an event where people teach high schoolers stuff. Everything from physics to origami to brownie cooking to fort building to an in-depth analysis of the battle tactics in Star Wars.

I am, of course, teaching cross-step waltz. It will be my second year in a row to do so. While there's heaps to enjoy about sharing my passions with the 14-17 year old set, there is a specific benefit I'd like to discuss, to wit, the acquisition of modern music to enhance the class.

See, high schoolers want to listen to hip, modern things. I am neither of these things (I own three tailcoats for god's sakes!) which means I get to spend a week beforehand frantically searching for music. The problem, of course, being that hip modern artists don't write a whole lot of waltz music. This means I get extraordinarily excited throughout the year every time I hear something in 3/4 time on the internet or radio.

Most recently, I was sent a Girlyman CD for my birthday, and it was just *loaded* with 3/4 time! Well, okay, two songs, but I look forward to adding "St Augestine" and "The Person You Want" to my DJing list.

And because no matter how many of this particular sort of blogpost I encounter, it's always a subtly different setlist, here are some of my favourite waltzes that were actually written some time this century:

• Between, by Vienna Teng (by far my favourite waltz)
• Lucky, by Bif Naked
• Cassandra's Waltz, composed by Murray Gold for Doctor Who
• Ampersand, by Amanda Palmer
• Coattails of a Deadman, by Tom Waits
• Herr Drosslemeyer's Doll, by Abney Park
• The Only Exception, by Paramore
• Down to Earth, by Peter Gabriel, for the Wall-E soundtrack
• Davy Jones, composed by Hans Zimmer for the Pirates of the Carribean trilogy
• Mother Superior, by Katzenjammer
• Rainbow Connection, by Jim Henson (although my copy is sung by Tom Smith)
• Woodburning, by Toad the Wet Sprocket
• Friends, by the Beach Boys (I know, right? But it's a great little slow waltz!)
• Spark, by Tori Amos
• Carousel, by S.J. Tucker
• Going North, by Missy Higgins
• Heart Attack of '64, by the World/Inferno Friendship Society
• A Little Priest, composed by Stephen Sondheim, for the musical Sweeney Todd
• Poisoning Pigeons in the Park, by Tom Lehrer (watch it! The melody...flutters)
• With Whom to Dance, by the Magnetic Fields
• The Riddle, composed by Frank Wildhorn for the musical The Scarlet Pimpernel.

If you've got recommendations to share, please do! I'm especially interested in slower waltzes for cross-step, but most any contemporary song in 3/4 or 6/8 will pique my interest. I like a wide range of music, and I'd love to be able to share it with my dancers.

Button Ideas

I happen to own a buttonmaker, which is a dangerous prospect considering that I collect buttons (known to some as pins or badges or "those usually-circular things with pithy sayings that you can attach to your clothing or bags") and enjoy owning large quantities of them.

At NEFFA, I finally put it to good use, and created a handful of buttons for me to wear or give to others. All had to do with dancing and/or gender, most were snarky. Here is what I created:

• "Gender is for Girls" and "Gender is for Boys" --I actually thought of this line about a year ago, and am very pleased with how petulant it is, as well as the absurd factor. Most people either get confused, or giggle madly.
• "Yes, I'm in the right spot. Are you?" --I was advised that the last two words make it a bit confrontational, but then again, I'm tired of demurring politely when concerned people try to steer me back to the woman's side of the dance. None of that please!
• "Damn Dirty Mischief Maker"
• "It's called a REEL!" --okay, maybe this Scottish dancer gets just a *little* bit pretentious about the fact that everyone else calls them hays.
• "This is what a FOLLOW looks like" and "This is what a LEAD looks like" --people just get so confused, otherwise!
• "Gender =/= role"
• "Ambidancetrous" (with the words "Lead. Follow. Dance." repeated around the outside edge)
• "Why yes, I am corrupting your precious pure dance form, thanks for asking!" --Oh well, I am not always nice.
• "Since when does lead mean the same as boy?" --this is my most important and favourite of all of them. Because seriously, as genderqueer and strange as I am, I don't automatically become male every time I lead. Lead and boy are not equivalent, nor are follow and girl. Stop conflating them.
• "Lady is one of my top ten favourite genders...probably." --Came out of a conversation I was having about some other button. I was really pleased by it, and aim to wear this button to lots of genderfucky dance things.

Additionally, though I did not come up with it, bunches of people at Tech Squares have been sporting buttons with the sweet little bird from the children's book, and the line "Are you my [Corner/Opposite/Partner]?" So I have two of those in my collection, waiting to be deployed.

And the ones I haven't made yet, that I think I probably should:

• "Your discomfort does not dictate my gender presentation." --or possibly just gender. This is another one of those confrontational buttons, that I probably shouldn't actually make.
• "Fuck the old guard" and "Fuck the newbies" --Okay, these ones I definitely shouldn't make, not just because I try to minimize the amount of swearing on my person, but I admit a certain amount of malicious glee towards them as an idea.
• "Dance what's coming at you!" --Apparently there is a contra caller in Philly(?) for whom this is the motto. I like. I like very much. The idea of trusting that everyone else on the dance floor is in the right place is an idea that I support. If the person coming towards you isn't the gender you expected, cope with it, swing them anyways.
• "Ask me about my role preference" --Based on the traditional "ask me about my pronoun preference" which is a button I need to make for general use. I do my best to ask people what role they prefer on the dance floor.
• "Country Bumpkin" --this is subtle, but I have a favourite dance, and it's this one. All other dances are less exhausting, impressive, and enjoyable.

What other snarky buttons should I create, to get myself in even more trouble on the dance floor?

The problem with formalwear...

The problem with formalwear is that it's impossible to find a non-gendered version.

To be formal is to make a decision about which side of the dichotomy you wish to be, and stick with it for the rest of the night. There is nothing that translates or parses differently if you change your posture, how tight the belt is, whether or not the shirt is tucked in, all the little differences in coding that you can accomplish with a t-shirt and jeans.

I just don't like having to pick a gender, especially if there's not something (internal, or more oft, external) driving me to identify along the binary. Most of the time, I get away with just being a person, small, silly, slightly scruffy, and essentially neuter. I can do that in my everyday clothes, it's easy to just be viewed as another warm body on the train. But formal, real, proper clothing comes in precisely two forms: stuff boys wear and stuff girls wear. There is nothing occupied by both.

This is a large part of what has been making formal balls suck so hard for me these last few years. Because there's always been something there, I haven't attended a single Ball that wasn't preceded by anxiety about my clothing. Whether I am choosing to be a boy or choosing to be a girl, I have to choose. When my gender is so constantly in flux, when I can go from definitely a boy to definitely a girl in the course of an hour, when I don't ever -ever- know in advance what name I'll want to use upon waking up...To be frank, trying to book my gender in advance is impossible. It'll just lead me to feeling constrained, trapped.

The dysphoria as I switch pronouns in a pair of jeans is managable --at least I can hold my posture different and pretend I'm recognizable. Wearing a full cocktail dress, or tails and a top hat? Oh no. There's no easy way to break free of social cues that strong. I pull on a gender when I get dressed for the ball, and believe me when I say I'd rather just stay indifferent to the whole thing. But formally, alas, that simply isn't an option.

Genderqueer Rolemodels

When you don't have a role model for something, you must become one.

I'm still not sure on the universality of that advice, but it's certainly true for me when it comes to dancing, and finding my strange little genderstrange place in the world. In the bouncy, pretentious¹, recreationist forms I do (vintage, Regency, and Scottish Country) there's very little playing with gender or pairings. The men dance in the gentleman's role, and the women dance in the lady's role, and if you've two women or two men dancing together it's a necessity due to the imbalance of the dance floor, not something enjoyable or done out of choice.

So already, there's a space where I feel uncomfortable because it seems that no one is interested in playing with gender and role and social conventions. Part of what I enjoy so much about dancing is playing with those things, so it makes me lonely when I'm without playmates. And let's be honest, it is difficult to stir the waters all by yourself. I am not so indifferent to this group that it wouldn't hurt, very much, to be outcast by them. And so when it comes to playing with gender --when it comes to honestly expressing my genders-- I find myself in a space where I am very cautious as to how I go about it.

After the Highland Ball, in May, I found myself despondent over being 'forced' into dressing and dancing as a woman. There were lots of reasons for this (including the cruelest one of "I don't have the wardrobe or money to do it right, and doing it wrong feels too inadequate"), but one I eventually figured out is that, unlike in vintage, where I commonly dance the male role, there is not really a genderqueer scottish role model for me to look up to.

I have a friend in the vintage community who is my genderqueer role model, especially so at dances. I sometimes see them in full tailcoat and breeches, identifying full as male. And I sometimes see them in a beautiful red dress, identifying full as female. It makes it so much easier for me to put on the top hat when I go dancing Regency, because I know I will not be alone, will not be the only one looked at oddly for being small and slight and ostensibly "female" while still demanding the gentleman's part and pronoun. And separate too from the solidarity is the normalization --my friend has gone through this already, and made it a thing that happens common, at least among certain groups we dance with. They are not surprised to see me in a tailcoat, because they have long since gotten used to them.

After the ball, I was lamenting to someone about how I so wished there was someone like my friend in the Scottish community, already breaking the trail, making my desire for a gentleman's airs to be somewhat less transgressive. Somewhere in the course of the conversation, my brain pinged. What if I am not the only one feeling this way?

And I suddenly knew that if there is not a role model in this community for me, well, then there's not a role model for anyone else. And I'm a lot louder and stronger and more stubborn that I give myself credit for, and I certainly am willing to be the one who fights so that others can live easier.

It will be slow going, I'm sure. They are used to me at Scottish as female, and it is so hard to pull off the other gender without owning the other clothes. But I will keep going, keep showing up sometimes as male, and others as female. Keep dancing whatever role seems right to the moment.

And because there is no one who has paved the path for me, I will be unashamed to pave it myself.

1: Look, I'm sorry, but Scottish dancers are snobs. We're very open snobs, who really want you to come dance with us, and on the whole, we're not really uptight about *people*. But "Aww, you do English Country? How cute." is well within our level of general pretentiousness. I think we just can't help but look down on every dance form that doesn't pair figures with steps, because seriously, we do it all the time, how is it so hard?

Choreography and Communication

Choreography is an important part of most of the types of dancing I do. It matters some in couples dancing (where figures can have a fairly precise path that must be followed if they're going to look and feel good), and it matters significantly in set dancing. In fact, one could easily argue that choreography is the whole POINT of set dancing --while you could just move directly to where the caller next wants you, that strips the entertainment of what makes it great. The point isn't to mill around on a dance floor, the point is to create patterns, follow paths, flow gracefully thoughout your set.

(Some of the prettiest patterns I've seen in set dancing result in very little net movement when all is said and done --Relay the Ducey, for all its winds and turns, is the same net change as "circulate twice".)

That being said, being good at choreography does not necessarily make you good at dancing, and vice versa. I'm living proof of that latter rule --I consider myself to be a fairly competent dancer (and routinely receive outside confirmation of that fact) but if we're being perfectly honest, I'm pretty lousy at a lot of choreography --especially squares. While I've technically learned all of A1 and A2, (and at least a dozen calls from C1!) were I quizzed on the actual definitions, I'd be at a complete loss. Yet I'm able to keep up on an A2 dance floor with relative ease, and have even been known to participate in dances at the C1 level --no gemini, no other square to match, just me dancing, and well enough to keep the square from breaking down.

So where's the trick? It's a lot of little things, I think. Practise, and lots of experience at set dancing is a big one. I can learn new kinds of set dances easier, because I understand the rules and can often recognize the gist of a figure based on similar things I've done. Being flexible is huge, especially about things like what direction you're supposed to be facing (quick spin!) and who's hands you're supposed to be grabbing. There are hints to be picked up from a good or familiar caller, what direction the flow of the dance is moving, whether they have a tendency to re-use certain sequences, that sort of thing. For squares, being aware of your opposite and being able to align yourself with them, quickly and effectively. (unless something interesting happens, you and they should always be symmetric, with respect to a 180degree rotation).

Most importantly, for any dance, the trick is just being able to communicate, and having a set or partner who you trust to lead you true. Be it words, hands, pushes, pulls, points... people will give you signals of where you need to be, and learning how to follow those signals, respond quickly and efficiently, will boost your ability to dance in a noticeable way. There are few things as frustrating to me as a dancer who will not listen when they are told what they need to do, and insist on dithering in the middle of a set, or doing things their own (wrong!) way despite the admonitions of the rest of the group. We all mess up sometimes, but that's why we dance together --so different people can help each other through the calls we find difficult.

Interestingly, the types of communication that help a set guide its individuals to the correct spot are also the types of communication that guide a follow through a convoluted couples dance. Because here's the thing --it's all well and good if the leader knows a complicated bit of choreography, but if they can't communicate what's going on to their follow, then the dance will fall to pieces (just like if a square of seven perfect choreographists have no ability to steer through their new student eighth.) I've had the misfortune to meet leaders who think of themselves as very good (because they know the choreography) but are actually absolutely terrible to dance with. I assure you, I am an excellent follower (and so modest), so it shocked me to find myself unable to keep up with someone who had looked so very good just a few dances before.

Here's the point of this (slightly rambly) entry: Learn the choreography. Learn the calls. Learn the figures. Practise them, and get good at them, and break them down so you can do them cold. But when it comes right down to dancing them, make sure you're doing more for the dance than just following a precise set of movements --because unless you're dancing alone, there's a lot more than choreography to being good at dancing.

Dance Without Touch

Due to a complicated set of circumstances having to do with that delicate intersection between being silly and being stubborn, I got a chance recently to dance with someone without touching them at all.

Specifically, we were partners in a contra dance (a form of dancing where long lines of couples progress up or down the hall, repeating the same set of figures with each new couple. You dance constantly with your partner, and generally once or twice with everyone else in the set.) We were both allowed to touch anyone else in the set, we just wouldn't touch each other. This was a mutual decision based on our own amusement, rather than a spite decision one of us made against the other.

And it was fascinating. I'd previously only witnessed no-hands dancing between very good couple dancers, stepping through a one-step or swing based on very good eye contact and knowing each other very well. I'd never gotten a chance to do it on my own, and certainly not in a dedicated way like this. Of course, my partner is a talented dancer --I would have never tried this with a new dancer, as not being able to give them weight or help steer them would be a huge detriment to everyone involved.

The first thing I noticed was that dancing without hands has to be a little more precise. You don't get the physical cues from your partner that let you know you're in the right place. You have to pay better attention, and you have to adjust your body just a little more to compensate, especially if there's only one non-touching pair. (I refer specifically to things like a circle of four, which benefits from everyone being strong and well-balanced. When there's a broken link, it makes the circle that much weaker.) Most importantly, when swinging with my partner, I had to pay enough attention to pull away myself when I was in the right place. I couldn't rely on my partner steering me to the correct position like I often do.

The second thing was something I was already familiar with, at least in passing. Dancing without touching is arguably more intimate. Because you can't steer with physical cues, you have to do it entirely through eye contact, expressions, gesture, and if possible, verbal cues. I wouldn't dance like this with someone I didn't already know and trust to be a strong enough dancer to keep up. Having to trust someone not to be confused or led astray, paired with having to trust yourself not to mess up can be an enlightening moment --or an utter disaster.

Of course, contra's a lot easier than most dances to do without touch. The steps have already been decided by someone else, so you don't have to worry about leading or following successfully. Additionally in our case, we were still getting the necessary physical cues from everyone else in the line. If neither of us were touching anyone it may well have ben a more difficult dance.

I did enjoy the experience, and look forward to getting to try it again sometime. My mind is already trying to work out a more interesting way to swing when all you have to go on is eye contact --you can get the motions pretty easily, but it's impossible to get the speed without something to anchor against. And of course, I fully intend to get good enough at couple dancing to pull a strong partner around the room by just a clever smirk and a tilt of the head. And if nothing else, touch-free dancing has a wonderful effect on those watching, as the audience tries to figure out just what it is you're doing, and how much you've practised.

Historians and Michievians

A dance historian friend of mine hosts quarterly invite-only dances. For her, they're a chance to work out some of the figures that she can't quite get perfect without watching actual people. For us, it's a chance to dance a lot of very interesting figures and footwork, in a reasonably experienced setting. I went to one of these recently, and found myself having to coin a new word, to describe the difference in how she and I approach dancing.

She is very much a historian. She spends her time looking through ancient dance manuals and resources, reconstructing dances that no one has done in two hundred years, and getting every small detail as perfect as she can. For her, accuracy is the chief goal. She is trying to bring back to life dances no one has touched in years, and she wants them to be as exact a recreation of the nineteenth century experience as she can get. This results in very precise footwork, arguments over hand-holds, and endless repititions of figures as we try to figure out how the great dancemasters would have split setting-traveling-setting¹ over eight bars.

And the dances she teaches are beautiful, and exciting, and accurate. I've been to some of the balls she's hosted, and it's a joy to watch a room full of period-costumed dancers whirl through a period-accurate dance.

But I can't do that.

I am too dramatic, and too distractible. I want my dancing to include flourishes, I want to show off. I want to be silly, I want to goof-off, and I want to do whatever is the most fun over whatever is the most accurate. Most importantly, I want to take the good pieces out of every dance form, and put them into other forms. My perfect dance has the intimacy of a waltz, the flirtation of Scottish Country, the solos and fancy footwork from Regency, and the mindbender from squares. And most importantly, the gender(s) of the people dancing doesn't matter a whit to what role they start (or end!) in.

Perhaps the simplest example of this comes from my favourite couple dancing group, hosted down in Maryland. At Oella, they dance a lot of vintage dance forms, to a lot of modern music. Sure, you can get period music for some stuff (or have it recorded, as my historian friend does), but there's a lot of great modern music that just happens to make a good waltz, or one-step, or even schottische³. Dancing the dances I love, to the music I love? What could possibly be wrong with that?

Ultimately, the two of us are just going to have to work around each other. This is where that ever-important relationship skill of "communication" comes in --knowing whether a dance will be strictly historical or a looser interpretation beforehand will help the dancers adjust their expectations. If it's really important to you to have mischief, you can ignore the historical sector. If it's really important to be accurate, skip out on the more ridiculous balls. For me, it's not particularly a problem --I like dancing, and helping her to create accurate dances ensures that they'll be around for the next generation of dancers to enjoy.

And for her? Well, I'll limit my compulsion towards doing the macarena during boring set dances to cases when it would be amusing rather than insulting. Chaos is fun, after all, but only when it's controlled enough to keep the dance coherent. If I combine my differing dance ideologies and come out with something less than the parts, I will consider myself to have done something wrong.

1: I'm not actually joking about this. I think we did eight bars of dancing at least a dozen times, going back and forth between "set for 2 bars, travel for 2 bars, set for 4 bars" and "set for 4 bars, travel for 2 bars, set for 2 bars". (No one liked my suggestion of "set three, travel two, set three"².)

2: For good reason --I tried dancing that and it was horrible in every possible way. Don't set for an odd number of bars. It's terribly awkward.

3: I have been told quite firmly that Sweet Home Alabama is not _actually_ a schottische. I continue to be unsure of this fact, and think you just need a pairing willing to do a damn fast schottische. Any volunteers?

Cross-step at Splash!

Every year, MIT is host to an event called Splash, in which various college students and other low-lifes from around the community are encouraged to come and teach a class on anything they want. These classes are attended by 2500 middle and high school students, who spend the weekend gorging themselves on higher mathematics, the ins and outs of boffer weapons, arguments about nazi imagry in the Star Wars movies, how to make a cake that isn't a lie, and -of special interest- several different kinds of dancing.

When I learned of this nonsense, I knew immediately that I should be a part of it. So I promptly signed up to teach some classes in Cross-step waltz, and then forgot all about it until today. Since Splash is this weekend, I've chosen to spend today frantically coordinating all the various bits and bobs I need. Never let it be said that I am organized about my instruction.

As it is, I've settled things down some (with well over 24 hours to go!) and now have a pretty good sense of what I'll be trying to teach, and how I'll be trying to teach it. Best of all, I've spent the day ferreting around the internet, googling every possible combination of words to get myself some cross-step music that won't be, well, boring to me or my students.

Hopefully, I'm ready for this. I'll try and remember to post back with a report, or at least a list of the songs I used and how well they worked. And if this goes at all reasonably, well...I have dreams for dancing in this city, and being able to teach people some little things fits in well with those dreams. But that's a post for another time...

A quick aside to callers

Dear callers of the world, whatever your chosen dance form may be. I have a humble request.

Please, when trying to indicate that people dancing the same role should be facing each other, use just that terminology. Do not say "someone of the same gender". Do not say "someone who looks like you" (although that's at least good for a laugh). Say, if you must, "gents face gents, and ladies face ladies" but if you do, don't follow it with some sort of 'humorous' disclaimer aimed towards someone who appears to you to be dancing on the incorrect side of the floor --you do not know their motivations, and they may be in entirely the correct place.

Just say "face someone of the same role". It really is that simple. It gets the point across, and no one has to wince as you assume a gender for them. No one has to feel hurt or insulted that you called them a gentleman or a lady or called them out for being in the wrong place. No one has to gnash their terrible teeth and stay politely silent because it's just not worth it to speak up.

"Someone of the same role". It would make those of us who's dance-gender and real genders don't necessarily line up a whole lot happier.

Thanks
Katarina/Erik

Pre-Assembly 2011

The Regency Assembly is this Saturday.

For those not in the know, the Regency Assembly is a big formal ball recreating the dances and traditions of the Regency era --roughly the Napoleonic war, or "when all those books by that Jane Austen chick were written". Regency dancing is not the most popular dance form I do (that would be contra) and as such, there is an unfortunately small fanbase. The Assembly is one of the only chances we get to come together as a group and party. It's the time when you show off your gorgeous new clothes, your delicious new recipes, and your awesome elaborate new dance moves.

I am preparing for it by stressing out, and wishing I had realized it was so soon so I could make a better pair of breeches. And stressing out more. Regency dancing is particularly fraught for me, because it's one of the only dance forms in which I only take one role --that of the gentleman. I prefer to dance gentleman for several reasons, but one of the big disadvantages lies in that I find the role to be more restricting than that of the lady --both in clothing and in partner choice.

The restrictive clothing should be obvious: as a gentleman wearing proper period menswear, I am wearing four layers above the waist, not counting the bra or (for the more serious or endowed) binding. If that weren't exhausting enough, the neck should be swaddled by two of those layers, and wrapped quite thoroughly in a cravat. Huzzah for clothing that literally keeps you from turning your head!

As for partner choice, there is a certain degree to which ladies in a dance hall, especially of the vintage variety, get more freedom in choice than the gentlemen do. Because Regency dancing is typically skewed to feature more ladies than gents, the ladies are free to dance with each other, safe in the knowledge they are unlikely to be depriving a gentleman of a partner. It makes me sad to limit my potential choice by half, but it's a sacrifice I accept in exchange for some of the other freedoms of playing the boy.

At any rate, I intend to be there in my dashing dark blue tailcoat, attempting to keep my swearing to a minimum, and not set anyone on fire. This is a _formal_ event, after all. If you're there, do say hello, and if you're in Boston and want to come along, let me know --it's a dreadfully dull trip by myself, and my carriage has space to spare.

Round Peg...

So, a year later, I still find myself largely disinterested in rounds dancing, (As written about here). But here's the thing: I really enjoy couples dancing. I like waltzes, and cha-chas, and one-steps, and polkas, and did I mention waltzing? And I'll admit, I haven't been getting a lot of chances to do couples dancing lately --even the last waltzes from Scottish Country Dance have slipped through my fingers, as all my usual partners move to other parts of the world.

And so a few months ago, I let myself get pulled into a rounds dance, by one of the more proficient leads. He led me through the steps, giving verbal instruction for the things that couldn't be easily steered with hand motion, and well...the inevitable happened. I enjoyed myself. Hey, it's dancing, and in case this (poor, neglected!) blog wasn't a tip-off, I really enjoy dancing.

So that happened, and after it had happened once, well. I let it happen again. Not often, mind, but every few weeks, or months, I'd let myself get partnered with someone who can lead, and have them push me through the moves. And because I'm a good follow, I could do that. Theoretically, I could do that forever, just throw myself in the arms of someone talented when I'm at Tech Squares and want a dose of couples-dancing.

That's not actually how I dance. Ever. I don't think there's a form in the world that I could only do one role of and be totally content. And so I had my first dose of actual rounds instruction on Tuesday¹. I learned a whole single waltz, from the lead position, with all the little components that comprised it. Huzzah!

My first reaction remains one of uncertainty: while strictly-following any couples dance feels about the same, properly leading a rounds dance, and doing all the called moves, is just downright *strange* in comparison to the rest of couples dancing I've done. I think part of the difference is that rounds dancing is a much more performative dance than most other couples dancing I do. There's a lot to it that involves pointing and posing, transforming the dance from just between you and your partner into something involving an audience as well.

Rounds dancing is also a lot more...frantic, for lack of a better word. I am used to, when setting my own pace as leader, being able to take time for myself or my follow to regain our footing and get back into the groove of the dance. Rounds dancing doesn't give you that time to refresh --there is no "basic step" that you return to in between doing flourishes. The whole dance is fancy footwork, and it can easily be overwhelming. (I treat it the same as DDR: when I get lost, stop, pick an upcoming point, and re-start there.)

I think I'm going to keep trying to learn, though. I still don't think of it as couples dancing in the sense I'm used to, and I might never, but I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing. There is waltzing, and there is rounds-waltzing, and both are dance-forms I tentatively enjoy.

Plus, and this is important, rounds dancing is teaching me new moves to do as a leader. It might take some effort to translate them from the middle of a sequence to the middle of an unstructured dance, but learning new things to do as a lead is always a valuable experience in my book. I already have an advantage going to rounds dance that I have a lot of practise with keeping my footing steady to the beat. I might as well have an advantage to bring back to more typical couples dancing as well.

1: This is where I admit that my timing was awful --I am not going to be in town for the next two Tech Squares night. No more rounds learning for me, at least not until next month or something.

What I've Learned This Summer

This summer has been the summer of new dancing, something I can't complain about in the slightest.

In Square Dancing, I have begun to learn the Advanced level¹. We just finished A1 last week, and presumably in a couple weeks will start A2. Huzzah for us! There are new difficult calls, and some really really interesting concepts that I don't get to enjoy in the regular Tech Squares group, which runs strictly mainstream/plus.

The most useful of these is the "As couples" signifier, which the caller can use to preface any call which is normally done in groups of four or fewer². The dancers will then perform the call as though each couple were a single person dancing --no problem at all for someone who's spent a lot of time dancing gemini³, and is used to being half a dancer, and a lot of fun as people pivot around each other frantically.

And in Scottish Country Dancing, I spent a week at a delightful dance camp called Pinewoods, where I had four classes in Highland step dancing. Highland is a performance dance, the first kind I've learned (discounting the ballet classes I took when I was six and seven), and involves bouncing. LOTS of bouncing, with very precise footwork, and intricate flailing of the arms.

I'm sure there must be a proper Highland class somewhere in the Boston area, I just need to find the beast, and see if there is time in my tight schedule to participate. I'm already dancing three nights a week, every week, and I'm hopefully about to get a job in the real world, and lose a bunch of time there.

At any rate, it's nice to be back to the beginning level, sometimes. While I love the joy of dancing and knowing just how to go, there is a particularly delicious challenge to learning new things --and a particularly satisfying smugness when you get them right. Perhaps I'll have to keep my eyes peeled for more opportunities to broaden my dance repertoire. You know. In my copious amounts of free time.

1: MWSD levels run thusly: Mainstream; Plus; Advanced: A1, A2; Challenge: C1, C2, C3

2: I assume. Someone can feel free to correct me if I am wrong.

3: Gemini is when two people stand tight together, each with their outside arm available, and behave as one dancer --the left person being the left hand, and the right person being the right hand. I really need to create a glossary. And/or a post talking specifically about this.

Beaus and Belles

It's always disconcerting to hear that you've been using terminology incorrectly.

Especially when the terminology references role in a form of dance you enjoy, and you write passionately on the subject of dance and role and gender on a regular basis. Then it's both disconcerting and a little embarrassing, and means you have to go off and revise your opinion of certain terms.

To wit, I have been using the Modern Western Square Dancing terms "beau" and "belle" incorrectly for almost a year now, a fact which only came to my attention now that I'm learning the A1 level, and there are calls where the correct definition becomes relevant. See, when I first heard the terms, it was as "beau is the person on the left (typically male), and belle is the person on the right (typically female)". I assumed that they were referring to the roles --whether you had the left role or the right role.

I was wrong. The terms beau and belle specifically mean person standing on the left at that moment, and person standing on the right at that moment. Meaning if you have a gender typical couple, who then sashays (switches positions), the woman will be the beau, and the man the belle.

I've spent a little bit of time thinking about it since then, and I've come to decide that this is actually totally brilliant and acceptable, especially if you dance in a group as devoted to queer dancing as Tech Squares. It's a little frustrating to have one more thing to keep track of --in a square dance, you need to know whether you are a boy or girl¹, whether you are a head or a side, and now whether you are a beau or a belle-- but it opens up opportunity for more complicated strings of calls, as it simplifies the calling from "person on the left, do this" to "beaus do this".

Also, looking back to my previous entry (four months ago in April, gak!), it seems like Pi-nerd has already explained this to me, and I just completely put it out of my head. Oh well. Now that it's something I have to worry about, it'll be easier to learn the concept. I would love to see it called more often in the Tech Squares mainstream/plus group though, both to give everybody more practise in keeping track of what identity the are right this instance, and because I think the terminology is elegant.

1: Starting-beau or starting-belle? It's not completely gender-free, and god is it clunky, but it's at least trying.

Vocabulary and Roles

Couples dancing is easy to degender. All you have to do is stop calling them the gentleman and the lady, and start calling them the lead and the follow. I've seen plenty of heteronormative dance halls do this already, because they're simply more descriptive titles anyways --it's pretty clear from names alone what the "lead" and "follow" do in a dance.

Then it comes time to describe the roles in a set dance, and my tongue stumbles. Lead and follow are no longer accurate descriptions, because most of the time, neither person is doing anything of the sort. Relabeling the gents as leaders simply starts to reinforce the leader/male, follow/female dichotomy that I'm specifically trying to avoid. And so the problem remains: In a set dance, you are one of two roles. How do we label these roles?

The words I've been using are "lady" and "gent", for lack of anything more recognizable¹. Most of the set dance forms I do label them along similar lines. The least gendered role names come from ModernWesternSquaresDancing, where the technical terms are "Beau"(gent) and "Belle"(lady). Still gendered, albeit in a more archaic fashion, and unfortunately unused --I almost exclusively hear the words boys, girls, men, or ladies when calling one role to do something specific.

Riffing on my footnote below, I suppose a movement could be started to refer to the people on the left as the Lefts, and the people on the right as the Rights. Two things make me hesitant however --first that both words are called often to refer to hands or directions and second that a good number of dancers seem already unclear on the difference between left and right, especially when presented quickly. Saying "first Left turn the second Right by the right then turn the third Right by the left" is a technically accurate instruction for Scottish Dancing, but it becomes a parsing nightmare as the dancers try to work out what hands and people were indicated above.

I could, of course, use the above when writing here, and it wouldn't be problematic at all --I'm only rarely giving instructions to dances in this blog, after all. However, just finding good words for me to use is only a small part of my problem. I really just want something that can be universally used across dance forms and halls to indicate who's who, without attaching gender to the role.

I suppose the best current solution exists in some of the gender-free contra halls I've been a part of, where the dancers are divided into "Bands" (or "Beads") and "Bares". The people on the left are given bright ribbon to wear as armbands, or mardi gras beads, clearly marking them different from those with bare arms or necks. This is certainly the most well implemented solution, in that not only do the dancers understand who is who, but the caller is able to actually call moves one role or the other, without having to use gendered terms. Unfortunately, the practise seems limited to the contra communities, which make the words less appropriate to use universally. Not because I don't think the terms are excellent, but again, because they wouldn't be recognizable except to that particular crowd.

The conclusion of this post is that, unfortunately, I don't _have_ a conclusion. If there *are* easily recognizable names for the two roles in most set dances, I haven't heard them yet. The choice is two-fold, currently: either attempt to degender the terms Lady and Gent, at least when regarding dance roles, or attempt to bring new vocabulary into dance forms that may very well not see any need for it at all.

Seriously though, this is why I ask my partner what role they want to dance. Because then the onus of choosing a name for the role falls to them, instead.

1: Recognizability is _key_. I could easily declare that the people on the left of the hall when facing the music are the "glucks" and the people on the right are the "shoobs", but unless I'm willing to preface every following post with an explanation, the words are essentially meaningless.

Mischief

(As an administrative aside, my life has become both very busy and host to something like ten dance events in the last two weeks. So I have many backlogged things to write about, and I will be making those posts when I have the scraps of time and energy to write them. If there's anything you think might be on my mind, and you'd especially like to see a post about it, please let me know.

On a semi-related note, should I start keeping a calendar of events I did or am going to?)

I have mentioned before the existence of a mischief maker at Tech Squares. He's a charming sort of boy, who can get away with being a smartass because he absolutely knows what he's doing, where he's supposed to be, and generally where everyone ELSE is supposed to be as well.

And so he leads the rest of the club into mischief, whenever he can find people willing to indulge or join. Recently, this manifested in a square containing him and me and six others of our ilk, all club members during a class review tip¹. Accidental on our part --we were what was leftover after everyone else formed squares-- but not altogether a bad situation, especially as the evil smirks began.

"Snap switch?" the mischief maker innocently suggested, and it was quickly determined that everyone was amenable to the idea. After all, there were no newbies to confuse, and the moves called were likely to still be simple enough that everyone would easily recover from any missteps.

Snap-switching, in Modern Western Square Dance, refers to meeting another dancer's eyes, raising hands, and snapping your fingers. The effect is that the two of you have now switched places, and you complete the move, and the rest of the dance, from your new roles. Most often I've seen it happen between one couple, or between one couple and their facing couple. This was the first time I'd ever gotten to dance in a square where everyone was receptive to snapping.

It took very little time at all for our square to reach the ridiculous, as snaps started occurring at every possible point. The pinnacle was when the caller began calling a series of pass-throughs² and our entire square responded by snapping through each one --rather than the tedious motion of walking all the way across the square, we would smirk, snap, and simply turn around.

This prompted me to start thinking of the situation in terms of a game, somewhat of a competition between the caller and the dancers. You may technically snap-switch for any move, so long as you end in the correct place. But for many moves, the only movement required if you snap-switch is to change your facing direction --pass throughs and trades especially.

So what happens if you set up a square in which each dancer's goal is to move from their spot as little as possible, as started to happen with us? It would require a firm working knowledge of the calls, and of where one was supposed to wind up, but it could lead to an interesting sort of chaos. I suspect it's less workable as you move from Mainstream into Plus, but it could be a cute game for an experienced square that was feeling more than a little lazy.

At the very least, if I can add some polish, it might be worthy of inclusion with other interesting Square Games (very few of which I've gotten to do yet!)

1: Tech Squares is divided into "class members", people who are currently learning the calls from Mainstream and Plus, and "club members", people who have already learned those calls. During class season, the night is usually divided into alternating club and class tips (dances), the latter of which alternate between "review" and "teaching". Review tips are nonstop dancing, teaching tips alternate between dancing and learning new moves.

2: When two people facing each other simply walk forward, passing right shoulders, to end in the other person's place, still facing their initial direction.

(As a complete aside, I must also offer my amusement at the idea of snap-switching ones way through a right and left grand. Rather than walk halfway around the set, one simply snap switches with each subsequent person, changing yours and theirs direction, and merely turning around rather than move. Sheer elegance in its simplicity.)

A brief aside on the topic of Swishy Dancers and the Vericon Masquerade

As I've mentioned before, dancers tend to like to have some swish to their movements. I am hardly an exception to that rule --if anything, I do my best to exemplify it, every chance I get. (My skirt collection is rapidly approaching the stuff of legends)

However, at the Vericon masquerade, I decided to go in costume. A close friend and I, after assessing that we could kinda pass for eleven if one squinted, decided to go as Harry James Potter-Evans-Verres and Hermione Jean Granger, from the fantastic fanfiction Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality, and specifically in the battle fatigues worn in later chapters.

(And if you're going to make fun of me for cosplaying from a fanfiction, you understand neither that I refuse to be shamed for what I enjoy, nor that HPatMoR really isn't anywhere close to your average fanfiction.)

This meant that, for the ball, I found myself in old surplus army pants, and a long sleeved camo t-shirt (later abandoned for an olive drab tank-top.) I was dressed functionally, a state I generally enjoy, but for the dance...no swish. No twirl. No satisfying motion of my clothing to accent the motion of my dance.

And then I unbraided my hair from its multiple thin braids, hoping to get some of Hermione's classic unruly poof. And oh yes. My hair poofed alright. It was downright alarming, as my hair --already thick and formidable-- managed to nearly double in volume.

As it hung in waves around my face, I found myself smirking. In slacks and a tank-top I had more swish than nearly anyone else¹ on the dance floor. I rocked out with my hair flying everywhere, restraining my motions only enough to keep my vision clear and avoid whipping any of my fellow dancers.

Having my hair down, especially having my hair down with added volume is a literal pain in the neck at a dance, especially when partners get involved and need to find a place to put their hands where they won't get tangled or lose grip. But every once in a while, for this kind of excellent single-person flailing? Screw practicality. Swishing, in any manner, just looks good.

1: I was challenged by a charming gentleman cosplaying Vim from con Guest-of-Honor Brian Sanderson's "Mistborn" book(s?). His cloak was comprised of ribbon and scraps of fabric, and seemed to be solely designed for maximum swooshiness. We wound up dancing together a couple times, partly because of how well our respective motion blur complimented each other.

Choreographing the Vericon Masquerade

Many science-fiction conventions have an event called the "Masquerade". They're basically huge costume contests, where everyone from bare novices to master-class costumers get on stage and show off the pretties that they've been working on for the last year (or more!).

Vericon¹, however, skips all the judging nonsense and so their masquerade is closer to the traditional roots of the word, a ball in which attendants are encouraged (though not required) to show up in costume or cosplay. This leads to wonderful and silly situations as four decades --or more!-- of pop-culture collide.

(As an aside, have you ever wondered how EvilSpock would react to a cute girl grinding up against him to the dulcet strains of "She Blinded Me With Science"? It's pretty entertaining, let me tell you! I only wish I had my camera out to catch his perfectly quirked eyebrow as he declared: "Science.")

So because it's a ball, it is expected that there will be dancing. And because Vericon is staffed, run, and attended by complete geeks...well...let's just say that the music can be considered eclectic at best, and the dances performed to match.

Oh sure, there's definitely a lot of happy flailing and bouncing around. Just because the songs are geekier than your average club fare doesn't mean you have to change the dancing around any --just find a strong beat and rock out. But between the flailing, maybe every third or fourth song, some spectacular geek anthem comes on, and the dance floor transfers from an incohesive throng to an impromptu performance space. Different people step up, as costumes or attitudes necessitate, and instead of just dancing, they *perform*.

One of the clearest examples is the annual production of "The Devil Went Down to Georgia". The room finds itself a circle, leaving plenty of space for Johnny and his foe to face off, miming fiddles as though their life depended on it. And at the point of the song where the demons of hell get to jump in and join their master...hoo boy, you get quite the cast of characters as anyone even *slightly* evil takes their cue.

Other songs get the star treatment too. "Walk Through the Fire" varies by year, but when it's good, it's good, with people of all costume stepping up to fill the roles of the various scoobies et al. (I got to be Spike this year!) And usually late in the evening, the DJs cue up "The Homecoming Queen's Got a Gun", which lends itself to a spectacular amount of running around screaming...at least until you get shot (at which point you get to throw yourself to the ground dramatically, which is arguably even more fun.)

The impromptu choreography is wonderful, and best of all, it lends itself to sharing, as ideas ripple across the dance floor. One person comes up with something clever, which is quickly stolen by another, or another. Some songs will lead to multiple performances, scattered across the floor --what's "Skullcrusher Mountain" with only one evil scientist after all?

My crowning victory this year was for another JoCo song. When "Re: Your Brains" came on, it took me only a few lines to realize that the logical way to "dance" was with arms outstretched, moaning the lyrics and shuffling around like a true zombie. The idea caught on like wildfire, and by the second stanza, the floor was almost entirely populated by zombies --one lone human ran around and around, giving us something to grab for.

It was wonderfully reaffirming, being in this mass of groaning humans. Sure, it was ridiculous, and in all honesty, we probably looked thoroughly uncool. But we're geeks. Most of the people in that room would probably pick fun over cool any day of the week. And being in a room of creative, kinesthetic, unashamedly silly people leads to some excellent -albeit uncool- geek choreography.

Which is probably why we could shuffle like pros during "Re: Your Brains", but not a zombie among us knew more than the fewest poses for the next undead anthem played: "Thriller". It's a great song and all, but for us?

We'd rather write our own choreographies.

1: Vericon is Harvard University's annual science-fiction convention. It seems to range from maybe two to five hundred attendees (yes, I totally guessed that number), and is currently held every year in March. I do recommend it! If nothing else, they have a fantastic dance.

Swishy Dancers

Dancers like being swishy.

I don't mean in an effeminate, limp-wristed, gay-stereotype sort of way (though I'm sure there is overlap). No, dancers really like it when they can do a swing, a twirl, a flourish and have their garments swirl out around them. It's a neat visual effect, the way the cloth moves, the rush of wind as something breezes past. Oh yes, dancers like being swishy, a lot, and that predilection is not at all limited by gender, role, or dance form.

Of course, there are certain types of dance that encourage it more than others (or perhaps it's the opposite correlation, perhaps forms develop more twirl to them when the dancers wear more swish). The kilt, as worn by dashing Scottish Country Dancers everywhere, doesn't just serve as an emphasis to a well-toned calf. It also provides incentive to keep your moves crisp, for optimal hem-swish. When a friend first got his, he remarked that it was suddenly easier to dance well --making the kilt twirl just so seemed to be the purpose of many moves that he hadn't quite instinctively gotten while he was still wearing pants.

Contra dancers seem to thrive on adding twirls, to every move they can, including (as far as I can tell) the twirls! On the one hand, it makes for a dizzying dance. On the other, it's a great excuse to wear full-circle skirts and watch the hems fly. I've never attended a contra where fewer than fifty percent of the dancers were wearing unbifurcated bottoms, and at some bigger events, that number creeps to seventy or seventy-five!

Even the less instinctively twirly dances encourage the wearing of garments that are kinesthetically pleasing as they move about the body. Oh sure, a lot of vintage lady'swear is hoops and bustles, with enough hardware beneath the skirt to ensure total rigidity. But what do you think the purpose of a tailcoat is? It's not just designed to get in the way when you sit down --tails look splendid during turns, which is quite satisfying to the more vain among us.

There are other good ways to get that visual blur as well. Beads and fringe of flapper dresses. Tiny braids or hair worn loose past the shoulders. Scarves, ties, cloaks and coats. A varied enough crowd of dancers will have all this and more, because let's face it, having your accouterments fly out around you is both visually pleasing and just damn fun!

So grab your skirts, your kilts, that excellent dress or perfect pair of tails. Let down your hair and let it fly. Spin like you've never spun before, until the cut of cloth through air becomes audible to all around you.

Just remember to wear a really cute pair of underwear. Otherwise, it gets a bit embarrassing.

I Am Not Alone

I am not alone.

It's a reassuring thing to note sometimes, when I get stuffily told "I only dance trad¹" or glared daggers at for coaxing my male-gendered partner into the typically female-gendered role. I am not alone, I remind myself, when I'm told that gentlemen do not dance with other gentlemen, that a female-sexed body in male formalwear counts as a woman, and other women will feel "cheated" if they have to dance with me rather than a real man.²

I am not alone, and perhaps more importantly, I am not alone in any dance form I do. It is not that certain dancers are a safe haven for me to play with gender and roles where others are not. No, I'm remarkably lucky in that every dance form I've tried (admittedly, mostly throughout liberal New England) has held allies. Not everyone. Sometimes not even a majority. But it's a lot easier to put myself out there when I know one-two-a-few other people present who don't think the gent's role is strictly for males or the lady's role strictly female.

Lots of female-gendered people dance both roles, simply to make up for the gender imbalance on most floors. I know several male-gendered people (and at least a few female!) who like trying the opposite gender's role, simply for the challenge, to keep their skills sharp. I once met a woman at a ball who had grown bored of dancing with inexperienced partners, and so now dresses and dances the gentleman's part specifically so she can have first pick of the experienced ladies. I've an excellent friend at Tech Squares who's been teaching me how to snap-switch (trading roles in the middle of a figure, back and fourth several times during the dance) specifically because he likes to promote "mischief"³.

And of course, then there are those like me. People whose gender doesn't line up with the binary. Boys who would simply rather dance with other boys, and girls who much prefer partnering with other girls. Gender-queer, sexuality-queer, plain ol' dance-queer. We're out there, and we're clever enough and organized enough (be it through the internet, queer-flagged dance events, "indicators"⁴, or just straight-up announcing "hi, I'm Kat, I dance both roles") to find each other, look out for each other, and yes indeed, dance with each other.

So hi to the person who changes from a street-casual woman-in-a-dress to a dance-formal man-in-a-tailcoat. To the one with the shaved head and twirly skirt who beamed when I asked if they had a preference for role. To the pair of gentlemen old enough to be my grandfathers, who I see at contras wearing skirts and holding hands and very much in love. Hi to the people who are gendered like me, hi to the people who dance like me, hi to the people who are willing to support me.

You are all awesome people. I'm glad I'm not alone.

1: Trad = Traditional --a man in the gent's role, a woman in the lady's. Don't worry, I had to ask too the first time I heard it.

2: Which is problematic for loads of reasons above and beyond just being unwelcome to someone who is a good dancer (yes me, I'm egotistical like that) and is trying to get more people out and about on the dance floor. Smacks of homophobia, and is awful for me as a not-always-female-gendered mind in a female-sexed body. I know I'm not good enough at being a "real man". You don't have to remind me.

3: This is the same troublemaker who organizes the hexes each week of squares --and half of the reason I got pulled into my first hex (dancing gemini --side by side with another person) after only learning three dozen calls or so.

4: T-shirts or buttons with declarations of queerness. Rainbow bracelets or bangles. Male-sexed bodies in skirts, and female-sexed bodies in tailcoats. Not every indicator is accurate, and certainly not every queer person uses them, but it's sometimes nice to flag yourself to your certain subgroup.