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?

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?

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.

How to fake dressing like a Regency gentleman

I am not a costumer. I survive off hand-me-downs, "close enough", and huge amounts of advice from my friends, especially the ones who keep blogs like Historic Fancy Dress, which talks about accurate fancy clothing for all sorts of vintage eras. Largely though, I don't care what I wear to balls as long as I look accurate enough that they invite me back.

I am not wholly without vanity, however, so within that attempt for accuracy, I'd also like to look as good as I possibly can. This is especially important in Regency, where I dress and dance as a gentleman. The more accurate my costume, and the more clearly gentlemanly, the easier it is for me to pass as male, which helps everyone on the dance floor. This leads me to a frantic rush before every ball, as I try to put together an outfit that will look nice, masculine, and as period-accurate as I can fake, in between lamentations that I didn't get done that bit of sewing I really meant to a year ago, or swearing as I realize I can't find a piece I need. For Regency, at least, this is what I usually wear, from top to bottom, outer layer to inner:

(You could possibly use this as a resource for what you should wear at a Regency event (if you dress as a gent) but I would really recommend somewhere that will actually cite their sources.)

Hat: I don't actually own a period-accurate hat at all and confess to not knowing entirely what they look like. But I do own an absolutely fantastic black leather tri-corn with several feathers and flourishes, which I maintain is my persona's link back a few hundred years. More recently though, I acquired a nice felt top-hat, of the very modern variety, that I might wear to the ball this weekend. We'll see how I feel it fits. (And if it doesn't work for historical, it will certainly be appropriate for steampunk. I refuse to place goggles around the brim, however --but that's a separate rant.)

Tailcoat: I was lucky enough to inherit a not-too-inaccurate dark blue silk brocade tailcoat from a fabulous costuming and dancing friend of mine. It's one of my single favourite pieces of clothing, and one of the few things I actually bother to try and take care of. The cut is "period" though not particularly Regency, but my favourite thing about it is the colour --black wasn't exclusive for men's clothing until the eighteen forties-sixties, I believe.

Cravat: My cravat is one of the items most in need of a replacement. It's literally just an unhemmed, unfinished piece of cream/white coloured fabric about six feet long. I fold it over enough to make it look official, but something that I could properly starch and wear tightly would be wonderful. And you know, that doesn't fray.

Waistcoat: Pronounced "west-kit". Is just a vest, which would be terribly easy for me as I own several, except that I've no idea what period is for Regency waistcoats. I do have a pair of nice double breasted ones that work except for the buttons --and again, the colours are the best thing, one is navy blue, and the other salmon pink. Yum!

Shirt: A plain white men's collared shirt is pretty much mandatory¹ for this sort of outfit. Unfortunately, because of my tiny stature, I can't afford to worry about accuracy with this --it's enough of a challenge just to find one that fits. I have a couple that I rotate through, some of which are feminine-cut and all of which are thoroughly modern, but until I learn to sew, they will have to do.

Undershirt: Not strictly necessary for period purposes, but it helps smooth out everything worn under the shirt, and helps provide a solid-coloured background in case the shirt is slightly translucent. I should technically wear white, and usually do, but I have a grey Excited Victorians t-shirt by Kate Beaton, and it's very hard not to just wear that to every historical dance event I ever attend.

Everything Under the Undershirt: If I were dressing up as a male and would just be standing around looking pretty, I might go the extra step and bind my breasts. But Regency involves an awful lot of bouncing. I'm already pretty flat-chested, and generally with a good sports bra and the above layers, I get enough of the illusion to pass.

Breeches: Mine are more piratey than Regency, unfortunately, but they're black, and more or less fit, which works for me. When I go to inaccurate dances, I'm happy to wear my steampunk breeches, but they've far too many pockets to be accurate for historical balls.

Hose: Generally, I just wear tights. I've got a couple pairs, at least one of which is a nice dark blue to match my tailcoat. Hose is uninteresting, and honestly, as long as you're not using flashy designs, pretty much all period.

Shoes: I could not begin to afford properly period footwear, so I wear whichever boots have the least flash to them. It doesn't really matter, as I just change into my dance shoes almost immediately anyways. My dance shoes are classic black woman's jazz shoes, but with bright pink laces. If I care enough about accuracy, I relace them, but unless I'm feeling quite charitable towards the people in charge, I don't bother.

Assuming I counted correctly, that's two layers below the waist and four above it. This is why every gentleman at every vintage event will attempt to collapse immediately after the Bumpkin is played, it gets very warm wearing so much. If nothing else, that might be what finally drives me to dress the lady --they get bare arms and open skirts, and the ability to pull their hair up off their neck.

And yes, of course I'll include a link to a picture.

1: But not entirely --ask me to recount the story of the Regency Assembly in which I lost my shirt somewhere along the way. Thank god for using the cravat to cover up where the collar's supposed to be.