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.