A simple pact of silence

One of my contra friends (I think Maia?) recently posted swearing a pact that they would do one very simple thing to do their part to increase the joy and understanding on their dance floors: Stop talking during walk-throughs.

I am a person who talks _incessantly_. I am also a pretty good teacher, and competent (sometimes extremely so!) at teaching most of the dance forms I find myself doing. However, I think that this suggestion is a damn good one, and I'm officially throwing in my lot. I, Katarina Whimsy, in pursuit of a Better Dance Floor and More Accessibility For Beginners do solemnly swear that I will shut my damn mouth when the caller or MC or teacher is talking through the dance the first time. Even if I think I can teach it better. Even if I think they're missing something important. Even if someone really charming is my partner and we're fourth couple and I'd rather be flirtingtalking to them than paying attention because I know I can pick it up once the music starts.

Should you catch me not, feel free to give me a pinch. And absolutely, I will continue to teach beginners as I dance with them, in the spaces between rounds of the dance, and fast gestures and frantic words called while we move. But while the Person In Charge is talking, I am going to _shut up_ and let them talk. They've got a plan going on here, let's let them actually do it.

So signed, so true.

A week in the life...

Hi there! My name is Kat, and I really like dancing. It's pretty much my favourite thing in the world, and I do some sort of it four or five times a week, every week. Sometimes I squeeze in the other good things I like --mathematics, teaching, writing, circus arts¹-- but mostly, my main form of social interaction and joy acquisition is to go dancing.

Most of the dance forms I do welcome beginners. If you're interested in trying any of the below, please let me know and I'll help you get set up! My typical week looks something like this

Monday night: Scottish Country Dance in Watertown. SCD is a kind of set dancing, where short lines of couples repeat choreographies to move throughout the room. It differs from most other well known set dances (contra, square dance, English country) by having steps --you aren't walking, you're skipping! It is very energetic, infectiously joyful, and the style I have put the majority of my dancing energy into over the last eight years.

Tuesday night: Modern Western Square Dance at MIT. Tech Squares is exactly the sort of dance club you'd expect at MIT. We're doing square dancing (like you learned in elementary school gym class) only harder, faster, and restructured as a multi-person realtime puzzle. It's the most mentally challenging dance form I do, though not particularly physically intense.

-or-

Blues Dancing in Cambridge. This is a bit of a misnomer really, since I've only been to Bluesy Tuesy about three times in the last two years, but I'm trying to get out there more often (in between and after weeks at Squares). Blues is a very close couples dance, that focuses on slow movements. I like it for the opportunity to do improvised leading, and, let's be honest, because it's kinda sexy and I'm an often-unpartnered² twenty-something.

Wednesday night: Highland Dance in Arlington. Highland is a solo performative style. It's extremely bouncy, extremely precise, and extremely difficult. If you've seen a person in a kilt performing a dance while leaping over a sword, that's part of Highland. I've only been taking lessons since September of 2014, which means I am still extremely rubbish. I may never be what's considered "good" at Highland, but I do hope to be passable someday.

-followed by-

Excess or Allure, in Boston. These are nightclub events, that run from 10pm-2am. They involve a lot of flailing around like a fool, gothy arm-waving, and sometimes a spot of swing or blues. Given how late they run (and that I have a pretty strict midnight curfew) I don't make it out often, but I enjoy it when I get there.

Thursday Night: This is my night off! I use the time to clean my room, hang out with friends, and sleep. I love dancing, but by the time I hit Thursday, I'm always ready to relax.

Friday-Saturday Nights: Assorted dance styles in assorted places! I don't have anything regular on the weekends, but there's inevitably some sort of event going on --SCD, contra, blues, and more!

Sunday: SCD Demo Team practice, in Arlington. This runs "many" Sundays from September-April(ish), and is where I get my serious SCD technique and footwork practice. We do two major performances a year (the SCD Boston Branch fall concert and NEFFA), and several minor ones.

-or-

Contra dance in Cambridge. The BIDA³ contra is my favourite of the *many* contras set in the greater Boston area. Contra is another kind of set dancing, only with much longer lines of couples --you may well dance with 40 or 50 other people in one dance! It's plenty enthusiastic and very beginner friendly. I go as often as I can, but between demo team and other adventures, that's only about once every 4-5 months.

Whew! And that's not even getting into festivals, or balls, or dance camp, or...

---

1: Which, I mean, many circus arts are extremely close to dancing anyways. They are very physical activities, often set to music, and require a lot of practice and skill. I juggle, hoop, and stilt-walk (poor-to-mediocre) and have done the barest bones of silks and acro-yoga.

2: I mean outside of dancing --usually, it's pretty easy for me to find a partner for any given dance form. I use "unpartnered" rather than "single" very deliberately --I have several partners at any given time, but the majority of them are nowhere near me geographically.

3: BIDA = Boston Intergenerational Dance Advocates = Good People!

\m/

So!

I told myself that the very first place I would share this news would be here, because damnit, I am neglectful and I am arbitrary but this is my dance blog and the thing I am about to share is the most relevant piece of dance news I have gotten pretty much ever.

I have completed, and passed, my Teaching Certificate Part 1 to become an officially certificated teacher of the Royal Scottish Country Dance Society. All three Units.

Forgive me if I forget the normal propriety I pretend to have on this blog:

FUCK YEAH!!!

Words that I have excised from my vocabulary that could now theoretically creep back in:

In Candidate Class, one of the things that is tested for your Unit 2 is your ability to brief the dances before performing them. However, these briefs must be manual-perfect, which means there's quite a few SCD colloquialisms that have dropped from my vocabulary lately, lest I become too comfortable with them and forget myself during the exam.

(As an aside, I actually had an interesting discussion with Jeanetta McColl about this, due to my originally putting "widdershins" into my exam lesson plan. Her reasoning, which is very sound, is that due to the truly international nature of Scottish Country Dancing, having standardized language that is used and shared by everyone across the world is much easier than hoping people will understand your alternate terminology.)

The classic example is "Hello-Goodbye Setting", which in official parlance is better known as "Set to Corners and Partner¹", but even something as mundane as "corner-partner-corner-partner" has a more official briefing as "turn corners and partner". There's a lovely woman who runs the Salem class who you can make scream if you call right hands across at the top and bottom "teapots", and quite a lot of contra dancers who will understand what you mean perfectly well if you call them "stars", but neither term is remotely correct. And of course, we never do a double anything, we do the thing twice.

(Which is honestly the biggest shame --the rest of that is fiddly, but "double crossover mirror reels" is dead simple to say, and evocative in a way "1s dance reels first with opposite sides then with own sides, crossing down between the 2s and 3s to begin" just isn't.)

Of course, all eyes are going to be on me² for the next few years as I find my footing as a teacher and start my unit 4 portfolio³, so we'll see whether I can actually loosen up my tongue. And who knows? If I'm ever calling a dance in South Africa, I'll be quite glad I've the experience of being able to brief something everyone would understand.

---

1: Not set to corners and partnerS, as I continually flubbed. There's definitely a polyamory joke in here somewhere...

2: Not actually true, I don't think, but our tutors liked to emphasize the fact that as new teachers, everyone would be looking to us as role models.

3: Assuming I passed my units 2 and 3, oh gods, the waiting!

Tookus Long Enough

Tookus Long Enough is a 32 bar reel for 3 couples danced in a 4 couple set. It was mostly written by Laura dC, with contributions from the rest of our candidate class, Beth, and Robert.

(Note: "Tookus" in the title should be pronounced as the hebrew word "tuchas")

Bars 1-8: 1s cross down into second place, 2s stepping up immediately on bars 1 and 2. 2s, 1s, and 3s dance a six bar chase clockwise once around the set. On bar 5, 1s meld into the center of the set and turn once around by the right, giving a "twiddle" to end in back to back in the center of the set facing own sides, ready for double triangles.

Bars 9-16: 1s, with 2s and 3s, dance inverting double triangles. (set for 2, 1s move to the outside of the set facing in while 2s and 3s move to the inside of the set facing out, all pulling right shoulder back, set for 2, all move in or out to end with 2s and 3s on the sidelines as normal, and the 1s in the center facing out their own side.

Bars 17-24: 1s dance solo figures of eight, first man up with the 2s, first woman down with the 3s, passing the person on their right by the right shoulder to begin. 1s end facing their first corner.

Bars 25-32: 1s dance set to corners and partners, ending by pulling right shoulder back and doing a petronella turn into second place on their own sides. All dancers may clap as appropriate at the start of bar seven.

This dance is dedicated to Andy Taylor-Blenis. It is an actually good dance, we are sorry for making it into an extended butt pun (not actually sorry).

---

End Notes: Andy has a talent for helping us stretch out our whole bodies and for emphasizing where our good posture should come from --including that we should, at all times, keep our tuchas tucked underneath us (especially for things like hello-goodbyeset to corners and partner.

Mack Gregor's Reel

Mack Gregor's Reel is a 32 bar jig for 4 couples. It was mostly written by me and Laura dC, with help from the rest of our candidate class.

Bars 1-8: 1s set and cast off one place, 2s stepping up on bars 3 and 4. 1s and 2s turn partner by the RH one and a half times in four bars. 2s end that turn in the center, both hands joined, 1s use that turn to move down the set to third place, ending back to back in the center facing opposite sides, 3s stepping up on bars 7 and 8.

Bars 9-16: 1s, with 3s and 4s, dance Double Triangles from a balance-in-line formation WHILST the 2s dance the "Mack Truck" figure, slipping down the middle of the set and back up, between the backs of the dancing 1s. 1s end facing first corners, 2s end on opposite sidelines.

Bars 17-24: 1s, with 3s and 4s, set to and turn their first corner. While turning, the second corners perform the "Smart car progression" and slip back to back diagonally across the set to end in each other's place. 1s set to and turn the person in their second corner position. While turning, the first corners perform the "Smart car progression". All end on opposite sidelines, in the order 2-3-1-4.

Bars 25-32: 2s, followed by 3s, 1s, 4s, cross up and dance down the outside of the set, 3s 1s and 4s dancing up the set to begin. End on own sidelines, in the order 4-1-3-2. The dance concludes with the wheels on the truck going round and round; 4s with 1s and 3s with 2s dancing right hands across.

This dance is dedicated to Gregor Trinkus-Randall.

---

End Notes: Gregor has a tendency to tell his students to keep their backs close together when back to back in the center, lest a "mack truck" be able to be driven between them. As our candidate class progressed, we were rewarded with smaller and smaller vehicles, including pick-up trucks, the aforementioned smart cars, and eventually matchbox.

Candidate Class: The Tricky Parts

As mentioned in my previous post, I have twelve Scottish Country Dances I need to memorize before May. This is not just memorizing the choreography so much as perfecting it, knowing every single piece of technique, where the hands go, where the feet go, exactly how far to turn. Expect me to talk about those dances quite a bit in the near future.

One thing our dance instructor has asked is for those of us in the class go through our 12 dances and identify what we think the tricky bits are, things that need special focus or practice. I think it would be interesting to come back to this post around the time of my exam and see if I have the same opinions.

I have done my best to link the dances from The Scottish Country Dancing Dictionary, which seems a *wonderful* resource. My versions may be very slightly different/updated from the website, I took all of them from the most recent version of the Unit 2 book of dances. This is official RSCDS stuff here!

Without further ado, tricky bits:

General Stuart's Reel: Fairly straightforward, trickiest parts look to be the transitions, remembering to turn the second corner by the right, and remembering to pull shoulders back correctly after the hello goodbye setting.

The Gates of Edinburgh: The last manuver of the double crossover mirror reels, where the ones move to top and bottom positions in the middle of the set. Getting the turns properly covered --obviously on the first part, the ones are turning more and aren't going to be quite in sync, but the twos and threes should be spot on for all of it.

Duke of Perth: This is all very straightforward to me, hardest part is remembering not to do extra turns on the set to and turn corners.

The Westminster Reel: Getting everyone back to original places on bar 16, everything else is pretty straightforward.

Miss Gibson's Strathspey: Seems straightforward enough, I would just watch out for keeping track of right vs left.

Mrs. Hamilton of Wishaw: Getting the correct timing on that meanwhile, remembering to DANCE up and then cast down. The weird reel from bars 9-16. The rest is fairly simple, but grand chains can be a challenge to get the timing right.

Alltshellach: TOURNEE! Really, everything about this dance is a wondrous challenge (it is so uncompromising and beautiful, it may be my new favourite). The transition from bars 16-17 (starting the reel) and the transition from bars 24-25 (starting the tournee) are both tough. Remembering all the fiddly bits of the tournee and being able to do them from any role or position.

Village Reel: This is really quite elegant and simple, I find. Having good strong arms for the pousette is important, flowing well from the pousette to the figure 8 promenade.

Woo'd and Married and A': Transition from promenade to pousette can be tricky. Remembering to end the pousette correctly, with the W between the 2s and M between the 3s. Getting from the circle to the promenade is tricky.

Miss Hadden's Reel: The final casting figure is unusual, and can be tricky for that. The rest of it is fairly straightforward.

The Starry Eyed Lassie: Lots of quick precise choreography, but nothing overwhelmingly difficult, until you get to the last eight bars and have to remember to bring the circle ALL the way around. That is killer.

Mrs. Stewart's Jig: Having the nice precise timing for the grand chain and ladie's chain is a must. Making the solo figure at the beginning look nice can also be a challenge --practice good covering!

Candidate Class: Overview

I have been doing Scottish Country Dance for almost 7 years now --my anniversary is the Monday after Thanksgiving. This means I've been doing it for over a quarter of my life, which is a whole different pile of awesome.

Part of dancing SCD has involved my gradual improvement, and invitation into more challenging or technically driven forms of the dance. There are advanced classes, there is the demonstration team, and there is reaching the point where one is encouraged to stop being a mere participant and become a teacher of the dance. I've reached that point, and for the last two months, have begun my Candidate Class.

An overview, for the Royal Scottish Country Dance Society is a creature comprised of red tape and buracracy: To become a fully certified teacher in the RSCDS, one must complete 5 units (comprising two levels). Level one is unit one, a written exam, unit two, proof of performance and technical accuracy, and unit three, proof of teaching skill. Level two doesn't start until a year after your level one certificate, and is comprised of unit four, a portfolio of lesson plans, and unit five, a more technically involved proof of teaching skill. It is all very official and impressive.

The upside of having all this is that the RSCDS can verify that its teachers really do know their stuff, and are committed to the goals of the Society. This is, first and foremost, a cultural preservation --Scottish Country Dance has roots as far back as the early 18th century, and being able to carry on this dance tradition is one of the core ideals of the Society.

The downside is that I'm giving up five hours of my life, every other Saturday, until early May in order to get my level one certificate. My unit one exam was two weeks ago (more about that in a separate post), which means for the next six months, I will live and breathe the twelve official dances I need to know for unit two, and the precise wording and pedagogy required for unit three.

I'm wonderfully happy with the situation.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Totally in no way inspired by real events last night during the fifth dance

Set dancing is commonly known by another title --social dancing. This is because it's almost always a very social event, one where you get to interact with many different people over the course of each dance. There are great advantages to dancing in multitude like this. Non-active dancers can help lead less experienced dancers, or detangle knots. Multiple people are trying to remember the sequence, and can guide each other if someone forgets. And of course, every dance, you not only get to interact with one partner, but with multiple other couples --from your standard eight people in a square, to the thirty couples or more at a big enough contra.

However, there is one significant disadvantage to social dancing, that doesn't really come into play with any other type of dance. Once you commit to a set in a social dance, you're stuck. You _must_ dance, or attempt to dance, the entire rest of the sequence. If you quit halfway through, you have not just stopped your dance --you have stopped the dance of everyone else as well.

Now, I'm not saying if you suddenly injure yourself, or feel faint, or otherwise have to pull out halfway through for medical reasons, you shouldn't. Persevering against all better instincts is for fools, especially when a medical emergency is on the line --please protect yourself so that you can come back and dance another day. But try to be aware of your body. If you're likely to become exhausted, sit out a round --there's no shame in it-- or if you're truly unsure whether or not you'll be able to complete a dance, find a friend who's not dancing who is willing to step in for you.

But don't just quit. Even if the dance is difficult, ill-taught, frustrating, even if your set has fallen to pieces 'round your ears. Much of set dancing repeats itself --reset yourself in the position you need to be at the end of the phrase, or the time through, and get ready to try again. If you're too petulant to reset, too annoyed to try again, then for lands sakes, at least get out of the way. Unless all eight+ people involved have agreed that the dance has become undoable, you will be impeding someone else's ability to dance if you stand in the middle of the floor, or remain at the top of the set and refuse to let others go.

Also, should you reach such a state of irritability that you refuse to go on, please find it in your heart to apologize to the rest of your set. They were depending on you in order to fully enjoy this dance, it's boorish not to acknowledge that fact. The least you can do is say you're sorry.

Lest they carefully and specifically mark you in their mind as someone to never share a set with again.

(As a postscript, I feel I should note that I am in no way referring to the knots that can occur when very new dancers are being thrown into a set dance with little or no previous training. New dancers mess up. They're inexperienced, it happened, dust off, back to places, and try again. My anger is only directed to when someone -of any dance level- consciously makes the decision that they are no longer willing to participate in this dance, and so ruin the rest of the dance for people who needed them present.)

Teaching Experienced Dancers

It can be difficult for regular dance groups to differentiate their instruction, especially if the class covers a wide range of skill and experience levels. Hopefully, your class will be large enough that you can split it between levels, but then you run into the issue of how to define the split. When, as I discussed recently, does a newbie start to be considered not?

In the group I do Scottish Country Dancing with, the split is between "beginners" and "intermediate/advanced". The dance night typically runs with an hour of lessons, followed by an hour or so of mixed social dance, where everyone is encouraged to dance with everyone else.

You graduate yourself when you feel confident --no one will specifically tell you "okay, you're I&A now". This tends to work well for the class, but still leads to an occasionally problematic gap in skill from one end of the I&A group to the other. The general solution is for teachers of the I&A class to focus on seriously breaking down techniques and practising particular figures until they are perfect --the more experienced dancers can generally use a friendly reminder on timing, and the less experienced dancers get to really know what the figure is supposed to look like.

Unfortunately, some teachers are more skilled at this than others, which leads occasionally to problems as they assume a higher overall skill level than is actually present in the class. So long as the teacher is open and paying attention, this isn't too bad, but when a teacher becomes caustic towards students who are less practised at certain figures or incidentals, or can't understand a question asked because they assume everyone in the class should already know that thing "because it is an experienced dance class" you have a problematic situation.

Even experienced dancers can be missing certain things. Moreover, SCD has been danced in its current form for nearly a hundred years. Yes, the "proper" way to, say, perform a rights hands round is with the hands joined only with the person on your diagonal, as opposed to all as one group of four hands, but sometimes it's easier to join all hands together, or awkward to split the hands into their diagonals due to the previous figure. So, even a dancer who is experienced in technique may not always know the exact technique for this particular dance.

About the best thing you can do to teach such groups, is to know the dance well, and watch closely as they practise. That will help you accurately answer questions on technique or movement, politely, when students ask. Sniping at students because they "should" know this achieves nothing useful¹.

And remember too, sometimes students ask questions because, while they may be experienced at a certain figure, they may be dancing cross-gender for whatever reason (it's especially common in SCD for females to dance the male role, due to the natural gender imbalance of the class), and not familiar with the particular differences they need to know from dancing the opposite of their more familiar role.

1: Especially not in a social dance context, where the focus is generally more on having fun and being friendly to people. Perfection is all well and good, but if you're not preparing for a performance, perhaps it's not as necessary.

Please, think of the newbies

Easily the most frustrating part about being dancequeer is constantly having to come up with rebuttals against all the justifications and explanations and reasons why I shouldn't dance across genders, or why I shouldn't dance with other men/other women¹.

I consider many of these to be bullshit --I refuse to even bother arguing with anything that smacks of homophobia or trans(queer)phobia-- but every once in a while, someone comes up with a justification for my dancing "normal" that I am actually willing to entertain. One of the most understandable of these is the idea of "think of the newbies": When you dance cross-gender, especially if your partner is also dancing cross gender, you lose the convineince of "go to the lady's side of the dance" or "trade places with the gentleman you're facing".

I understand what it's like to be a new dancer. It's confusing to remember who stands where, and when, especially when it's not consistent. And I believe in extending every support possible to new dancers, to keep them excited for the danceform. After all, if your new dancer finds themself easily confused or frustrated, they'll be less interested, less likely to return.

But only to a certain point, and that's where it gets difficult. Where do we draw the line between "new dancer, who should be coddled" and "experienced dancer, who can deal with wackiness"? I am willing to make the sacrifice of dancing "normal" in order to help out people who have never danced before. I'm willing to make the sacrifice for people who have only danced once or twice. But where does it end? Most dance forms don't have magical level tests you must pass to determine whether or not you are "experienced", and even if they did, experience from skill level is very different from experience from time spent doing the form.

Additionally, is it misleading to dance normal for a new person, especially in a group that doesn't regularly do that, or has a regular population of ambidancetrous or rolequeer² persons? After all, the status quo for that specific population is to have certain people dance against the norm. If they all dance normal for newbies, then will the newbies be more confused when suddenly people start switching roles again?

Tech Squares, at MIT, seems to have struck a fair balance, in part by dividing their dances into club-only --experienced dancer-- tips, and teaching, or class tips. In the club tips, a little more excitement happens, people dance in hexes instead of squares, or snap-switch places and roles in the middle of a dance, as well as just relax a little more about what genders and roles they are. Because newbies are often present, they get to see that this is a regular thing among the club, but they aren't overwhelmed while actually trying to learn the figures themselves.

Additionally, I've found the population of Tech Squares to be very good about naming their gender when the call requires it. "Boys run around the girls" is often met with the person next to you declaring "boy" as they run around you, to save confusion, just like Load the Boat has people declaring "inside" or "outside" and complex partner-switching figures leading to the person returning home informing their new partner "side" or "head". This provides an excellent cue, and helps direct dancers, new and old, to where they need to go.

It's a hard balance, and most places I've danced aren't nearly as well-arranged to meet both the needs of the new dancers and the dancequeer dancers. So I request advice --how do you easily mark out to those who might otherwise get lost, which side of the dance is which?

[1] I use this structure specifically to cover instances when I am dressed as and dancing as a man (which I do at Regency events) and instances where I am dressed as and dancing as a woman (which I do at SCD and other formal dance events)

[2] In case it's not very obvious, I am making up words for this blog as I see fit. I use queer as a non-pejorative term to mean not normal, specifically in terms of dancing your expected role for your apparent gender.

Square peg, Round hole

During the fall semester this year, I took up Modern Western Square Dancing ("squares"), by taking MIT's Tech Squares class. Unlike most square dancing groups, which can take 40 weeks to a year to cover the mainstream and plus level calls, Tech Squares crams the program into thirteen weeks. It's quick and intense and you find yourself learning eight to twenty new calls each week. It's a rather intense way of doing it, but fun if you can keep up, and their regular caller is extremely good at his job, as well as being creative enough to keep things adventurous even for the more experienced dancers in the room.

Now, square dancing isn't the only thing that Tech Squares teaches, or the only thing danced at their weekly dance nights. They also teach a monthly Modern Western Rounds Dancing ("rounds") course --each month they focus on calls for a different type of dance, like cha-chas, foxtrots, one-steps and two-steps, or waltzes. Paying for squares means you can get into the rounds class too, and several people have asked me if I plan on trying it.

I had never seen called couple dancing before I first witnessed rounds. I have been doing couple dance longer than any other form of dancing¹, and I have watched many extraordinary dancers spin into interesting variations and beautiful figures. Couple dancing is, to me, something to be created anew every time, a dance form filling the grey area between dancing by oneself, which is often completely dictated by your own creativity, and dancing in a set, where you follow the prescribed set of figures, a prescribed number of times.

When I first was introduced to the idea that couple dancing could have all the creativity sucked out of it, and be reduced to just rote repetition of someone else's chosen figures, I found myself utterly repulsed. While my repulsion has softened some, I am still not at all interested in learning how to dance rounds myself, and have had to politely reject several people who asked me to dance.

From the first I have tried to figure out just what it is about called couples dancing that I revile so, especially when squares --called set dancing-- is close to my favourite current type of dance. I think part of it is what I mentioned above, that I have spent so long watching creative and complex figures that the idea of subscribing to another's choice seems bland or cheap somehow. Part might also be the complexity of the figures involved. Often, especially with a clever caller, square dancing feels like a puzzle, where we tie a series of careful knots, and if you don't end up exactly where you belong, the whole thing can fall apart. Eight people (or twelve², if you're dancing in a hex --more on that in another entry) solving a puzzle together is a lot of fun, especially when you're doing so in a rush of movement and grabbing hands. Two people logically have less complex maneuvers, and so the puzzle is less interesting --if it's even a puzzle at all.

Ultimately, I'm not sure I've solved what my beef is with round dancing. I'll keep thinking about it, and let you know if I draw any more useful conclusions. And who knows. Maybe my scientific nature will force me to try it before I decide for good that it's simply not for me.

1: Technically, my couple dancing experience dates back to when I was eight-nine-ten, and friends of the family hosted monthly balls at their place. I learned how to waltz (both the first and second time) by people who have been doing such for my lifetime and longer, and while most of the experience faded amongst the years when I was not dancing so regularly, I stubbornly maintain I have been doing Grand Marches since I was eight.

2: Or, as happens surprisingly frequently due to a friend and I dancing gemini --side by side with one of us being the left hand and one of us the right-- a thirteen person hex.

Pre-Arisia: Formal Balls and Clothing Conundrums

So, the next dance event on my calendar is Boston's best¹ annual sci-fi con, Arisia! It's the weekend of the 14th-17th, and will likely have more dancing than I can shake a stick at.

If the past years are any indication, Arisia will host at least one formal costume ball, and multiple nights of bouncing around club-type dancing. I look forward to both, with some trepidation, and due to the length of this post, I'm going to split it into two discussions.

First we'll discuss the formal ball, which is causing more trepidation and almost all from the costuming aspect. The biggest problem is whether people will come to the ball because they want to dance, or because they want to show off their costume. There's nothing at all wrong with the latter, however, if it interferes with the former, I consider myself unimpressed and displeased.

How might presentation of costume interfere with dancing? First off, and most importantly, some people arrive at a costume ball and then refuse to dance with anyone uncostumed. This is well within their right (among other reasons, I've heard cited not wanting any photographs with non-costumed dancers, or not wanting to break illusion of whatever formal theme the ball might have) but to me, it comes off as arrogant. Not everyone in attendance at the ball knows how to costume with the same skill, and not everyone in attendance will have come from a convenient enough location that they can bring a full formal set of clothing to wear. (And hell, let's be honest here, not everyone will _care_ enough to put the same sort of effort into dressing up).

This goes hand-in-hand with one of my core tenets of dancing: The point of a dance is too dance. You may disagree, but for me, anything at a dance that involves not dancing is breaking that rule, and therefore counterintuitive².

Another problem with people who come to the ball more for the costumes than the dancing is a lack of familiarity with what a dance requires, clothing-wise. Glitter, for instance, is a bad plan, unless your goal is to make every single person present sparkle. Complicated or spiky bits of costume might make it difficult for a partner to take you in a proper ballroom hold. Belt-pouches are wont to bash into legs during spins or faster dances, and if you've never danced in a corset, you'd be wise to loosen the strings first.

Of course, a lot of this particular fact depends on the types of dancing at the ball in question --if you're only doing seventeenth century minuets, your partner won't ever need to touch more than your hands, and most vintage between Regency and Ragtime is sedate enough to allow for dangling props.

Lastly, there's a personal costuming problem at convention balls. Namely, how on earth do I present myself? When I traditionally dance vintage, I do so in full formal gentleman's garb, and then dance the gent's part almost exclusively. But at conventions, I have the luxury to skip the five layers³ and break out something a little more fun --after all, most convention balls I've been to are extraordinarily lax regarding period costume, and most attendees wear something formal and fun rather than truly accurate.

That being said, I do find an advantage in wearing traditionally male garb: it helps to mark me as potentially genderqueer, and more likely to dance either role. Being accessible to new dancers is a joy, and one I try to achieve at any given ball. Still though, the full nine yards (or ten, or eleven, or twelve...) of fabric involved to be a really proper gentleman is enough to make me faint, especially in Arisia's overcrowded dance hall.

Luckily, the advent of Steampunk seems perfectly timed to solve this problem, at least. While I agree with more pedantic friends who insist that goggles and clockworks make neither steam nor punk, the pseudo-victorian aesthetic is rather lovely, and I do look stellar in earth tones. Waistcoats and collared shirts are rapidly becoming my go-to for "dressed up", and best of all, since they all fit about the same range of colours (well, except for that ludicrously excellent salmon-pink one) I find them to be extremely interchangeable.

My terrifically modern breeches, high socks, a collared shirt and a vest, and I'm perfect. Perhaps if I'm really putting in the effort, a pair of goggles to hold back my hair, and my lovely wind-up pocketwatch. I'm suddenly perfect for every con across the next year, and best of all, it's very easy to dance in. For a non-costumer, it's the perfect compromise for the conundrum of "costume balls" --everything I'm wearing remains in rotation as street clothes, but the combination is outlandish enough to avoid all but the haughtiest sneers.

Clothing conundrum? Solved. Now, to figure out how to get one of those TARDIS thingys I hear so much about, so I can actually make it to all the programming at Arisia I want...

1: I can't actually say this --I'm told Boscon is quite good, and I have friends who work ReaderCon. But Arisia, I believe, has far and away the best dance events. By the terms of this blog, that makes it the best.

2: This is a big part of why I'm ambidancetrous --because that way, so long as there are an even number of people in the hall, I can dance. I will happily dance with anyone, regardless of gender, role, or skill level, since sitting out and watching other people dance is a waste of my time.

3: Sturdy sports bra, to get a binding effect, t-shirt, collared shirt, waistcoat, tailcoat.