All posts by fensfeet

Conversational First Aid

My dearest rose,

There are but few places in this heathen field for a man to charge his iPad. Worse, I fear you must imagine the lunch I am having, as the Instagrams is down.

Fabulously, Heath X Buford, 1st Hipster Batallion, The Fighting Kale Wraps

Heath Harper via Twitter

 

Ma & Pa,

I wish you could see the folly of your vote for Emperor Tinyhands. You meant well, but were mistaken. Please stop seeking validation on Fox News and join me at the polls in November to curb this madness.

Always, Tess

– TessDiva via Twittr

 

Dearest Teddison,

Our rations are thin and I am only allowed 1 Frappuccino a day. Our blue stronghold of Atlanta is overrun with red caps. General Issakson is steadily approaching and we must prepare for battle. Our forces are small but heavily caffeinated.

– Michaelanne via Twitter

 

In case you have not been following the second civil war that erupted on July 4th this year, I take the opportunity to share with you some highlights, and to transition into my blog post for today. Witty responses to politics aside, I’ve found my posts recently skewing more and more away from dance and towards a cry for more respectful dialogue in general. A while ago I turned down the opportunity to publish one of my blog posts on a much larger platform because the editors wanted me not just to present an argument but to condemn those on the other side as vile, evil, and abhorrent. I believed strongly then, as I do now, that I want to write a blog that can be read by anyone, in the hope that I at least promote different ways to listen to each other without lashing out. This attitude gets harder and harder to maintain in light of the views being currently shared and discussed in public forums all around me, and especially online.

Far too many of my friends are stumped as to how or even when to engage with opposing views, especially when those views present as extremist or threatening. In the UK we have a wonderful acronym to guide us through first aid interventions, DR ABC: Is there Danger, is there a Response, do they have an Airway, are they Breathing, can they maintain Circulation. I’ve adapted this guide to produce my own acronym for conversational intervention – a hopefully bi-partisan guide to help us all evaluate when and how to step in.

dangerD – Danger – Is there danger to you if you intervene? A number of groups in the US are infamous for targeting dissenters with threats of violence and death, individuals do this too. In other cases there may be a social consequence to your intervention i.e. your friends may stop talking to you, or you may be excluded from certain spaces. You may lose your job. Evaluate the risk of danger to your person as best you can, and decide whether this intervention is a risk you want to take.

ResponseR – Response – Is this a conversation where you can get a response? Is it an old thread? Is it a private conversation? Is it taking place in a community or group to which you do not belong and are not invited? Has a participant requested an end to the conversation? Without conversational consent, either direct or implied, your intervention is likely to do very little. Evaluate your likelihood that people are able to engage with you.

AgendaA – Agenda – Why is the viewpoint you object to being expressed in this conversational context? Very few people express a viewpoint with the intention of having it changed, yourself included, so you will be attempting to change the conversational agenda and that makes it advantageous to know where people are coming from. Are they joking? Problem solving? Looking to do good? Trying to educate people? This is the step that I find furiously difficult because I frequently see views expressed that are so distant from fact and humanity that I assume they are only being expressed to troll people… but those people do, in fact, believe that what they say is a valid contribution to the discussion. Determine your agenda too: do you want to show someone how wrong they are? Do you want to show them the harm they are doing? Do you want to educate them? Do you want to come to a place where you can compromise or do you need them to completely abandon their views? Do you just want to poke someone? Do you want to show the people around you that you will speak up and fight back on this issue? Clear goals will help you stay on topic and evaluate whether your intervention can be fruitful.

BackgroundB – Background – Do all the participants in the conversation have the background knowledge and context to follow what you are saying? One of the biggest obstacles to structured conversation is the availability of wildly conflicting facts around any given situation. A common tactic I see is people constantly moving the goal posts of what needs to be proved and to what standard in order to be accepted as common knowledge in a conversation. Another is saying that individuals from a given identity group cannot contribute to a conversation. If you cannot agree on a reasonable standard of shared background knowledge, context, and experience, conversational intervention is incredibly frustrating. You may have to start from the place your conversational partner is in order to establish a place where you can communicate.

communicationC – Communication style – How are you going to enter into this conversation? What tone do you want to use? Are ad hominem attacks on the table? What is the limit beyond which you cannot agree to disagree? What is the balance of authority between you and the people you are talking to? Do you have the spoons to do the work required? Is there a benefit to interjecting anyway in a limited way? Do the resources you are working with enable you to intervene according to the other factors indicated above? What limits do you need to set for yourself about how you speak, and when you will walk away?
My dearest friends,
I hope this handy guide will stop some of you from burning out in your efforts to bring this country, nay, this world to peace. The path to positive change is slow, but I hope even now that we may avoid a second civil war.
Yours
Fen

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The (Dancing) Body Politic

Last Friday all the queers in town showed up to throw Mike Pence a loud, joyous dance party. A man who has argued vehemently for the withdrawal of gay rights chose – in a truly STUNNING lack of foresight – to come to one of the queerest cities in the Midwest on pride weekend, and to speak from a hotel on, I kid you not, Gay Street. What did he honestly think would happen?

This morning I woke up to a post from the New York Times about Tango dancing in non-metropolitan areas as a wonderful way to come together, listen and be vulnerable in a non-political space.

Wait… what?

In the academic world in which I circulate, dance is ALWAYS political. There’s the argument that dance is political because it is a reflection of the political environment in which it was created. There’s the argument that the medium of dance is the human body, and that the human body is the place where political power is enacted. There are goodness knows how many examples of dance being used to control, pacify, protest, claim space, comment, and otherwise act politically – and just in case you think I’m only talking about vernacular dance let me offer you two examples from ballet: that the entire repertoire of the Paris Opéra was changed in light of the French Revolution so as to reflect new attitudes to the aristocracy; and that the famous Fairy Variations in Sleeping Beauty used to be about the gifts of a powerful leader, before people got uncomfortable with women in charge and re-wrote the choreography and libretto to be about gifting grace and beauty instead.

Going down another trajectory, dance has to be political because it is not universal. Each dance has a unique trajectory through history, geography, class, race, gender etc. For many dances, Tango included, that trajectory shifts radically when it comes into contact with white American popular culture. That’s where things get sticky, and the word “should” gets really, really loud.

Should dance be about the politics of its past?

Should dancers have to learn about the culture dances come from?

Should people be codifying certain types of dance?

Should certain dances be closed off – or open to – certain kinds of people?

Who should be allowed to answer these questions?

The answers, of course, are staggeringly complex, and highly divisive. Often there’s a feeling that political awareness must be balanced by freedom of consumption, but the tip of the scales varies hugely based on who’s currently loading each side. The need for safety vs the need for escapism. The need for just having fun vs the need for cultural respect. The need for autonomy vs the need to welcome a diverse community. These decisions cannot be made in a bubble devoid of a world in which some people have more power than others… and we come back round again to why dance is always political.

A point brought up in the article is the need for a space where people don’t have to discus politics. Where they can share physical space, regardless of who voted for whom. What the author appears not to have noticed is that the politics is always there, even without the discussion. Here are some ways in which politics shows up very obviously for me, personally, in a dance space:

Is there a bathroom that will accommodate my gender?

What happens when I ask women to dance?

What happens if I offer men the choice to follow?

Am I expected to dance with one partner or to rotate between many?

Does the population who will dance with me or ask me to dance vary according to how I am dressed and what role I take?

Where do I stand during class?

Is there a class?

…. I could go on.

Yes, many of these things are tied to my gender identity. An identity that the government has recently stripped of protected status. An identity that on the basis of which I can be denied housing, medical care, food, and employment. An identity that could be a legal defense if someone kills me. An identity that people find so abhorrent that they have proposed bills advocating for legalizing my execution… bills which already exist in a number of countries. I do not often sit and write out those facts, but the thought of putting my body in a dance partnership with someone who voted (passively or actively) for those conditions does not seem like a fair price to pay for fostering peace between us. Where I dance with my body is always political.

For some people, that’s not always perceived to be the case. I would argue that in the same way that atheism is a religious position, calling anything a-political is a political action. I would rather discus in what ways politics is acting, who is being affected and in what ways, and how politics shapes the way dances are happening than pretend that nothing political is happening. I would rather find ways for politics to be embraced and discussed than have the existence of the space dependent on covering up that conversation. I’ll admit that letting politics dance in under the radar can be a great way to change minds… or to protest without getting maced and arrested… but again, stealth politics is still politics, even if it takes advantage of the fact that people want to pretend it isn’t.

In conclusion: it is your decision whether or not you want to dance Tango – or anything else – with Trump voters. I am not going to place any more weighty shoulds into the conversation around dance politics. I am going to keep dancing, and to keep using how I dance, and where, and with whom, to be politically active in the world, and to keep having conversations about how that works. I hope you’ll keep joining me for them.

 

[…….] No More

While choreographing within an academic institution has its limitations, I have found during the last few years that for preference I tend to make installation works that are about half an hour long. One of my favourites was a piece commissioned by M.I.N.T. Gallery for their queer performance series, called The Aviary. The audience was invited to move around the darkly-lit space observing the behavioral patterns of strange half-bird half-ballerina creatures over the course of a slowly developing improvisational score.

Five minutes into the work a man came up behind me and petted me like a cat. I treated it like a genuine mistake, let him know that this was not an ok audience behaviour, and carried on. He seemed genuinely delighted by the work, and made no further attempts to touch the dancers, but I wondered what would have happened if he had approached one of my cast who didn’t feel they had the authority to step out of character, or decide what kinds of interaction were appropriate? Was there a reason he went to the smallest and youngest looking of the performers? Why did he feel like he could touch us? There was no part of the instructions for the space that suggested touching was welcome. We do not touch animals in zoos, and we do not touch birds in particular. There is no art gallery in the world where you would walk in and touch the works on display without being specifically informed you could do so…

… Unless of course you would.

During my time as a freelancer in London I was hired by a major gallery as part of a cast of live-art performers, supporting an exhibition of international mixed-media work. Our roles included shadowing gallery attendees, activating installations, and displaying ourselves immobile in a series of poses – my favourite was a living sculpture that required me to hang in an impossible position, strapped to an invisible frame.

Eventually the cast had to send a message to the gallery managers threatening to quit because of the harassment we were receiving from members of the public, and from the security guards employed by the gallery. While I was strapped to the frame and unable to move or get away people flashed cameras in my face, did everything they could to make me blink or startle, and talked loudly about forcibly undressing or molesting me. The guard watching laughed and encouraged them, despite this having nothing to do with the work in particular or the exhibition as a whole. The gallery managers, thankfully, were receptive to our concerns, apologized, and tightened up expectations for how we should be treated. This is not always the case.

I have begun this blog post with two examples from my own experience to show some of the difficulties that happen when performers are harassed by audience members: the boundaries of appropriate behaviour are often unclear, performers are often dependent on others to enforce those boundaries, or they risk destroying the work if they speak up for themselves. The physical safety of performers and the sanctity of the audience experience are held up as comparable concerns, and frequently the latter takes priority.

Earlier this year Amber Jamieson wrote about sexual misconduct by the audiences at Sleep No More, and the comparative powerlessness of performers to protect themselves. The article explains that audiences to the show are masked, frequently inebriated, and are not explicitly told that touching performers is forbidden, despite requests from the cast for this addition to the welcome speech (the line has since been added). Audience members ejected for their misconduct have been let back into the show, and known violent “superfans” who aggressively pursue one-on-one opportunities with performers are allowed into the show night after night.

Sometimes the misconduct is all part of the show. In 2011 artist Sarah Wookie spoke out first anonymously, and then in an open letter about conditions at Marina Abramović’s production for the annual gala of the Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles. To quote Wookie: “Of course we were warned that we will not be able to leave to pee, etc. That the diners may try to feed us, give us drinks, fondle us under the table, etc but will be warned not to. Whatever happens, we are to remain in performance mode and unaffected. What the fuck?!” When Wookie asked about safeguarding and signals for performers in distress, and was informed that nothing could be guaranteed. In this case dance icon Yvonne Rainer added her voice to the debate, parsing out the difference between Abramović’s own performance history of using her body to challenge audiences, and her method for conscripting others to do the same:Subjecting her performers to public humiliation at the hands of a bunch of frolicking donors is yet another example of the Museum’s callousness and greed and Ms Abramovic’s obliviousness to differences in context and some of the implications of transposing her own powerful performances to the bodies of others. An exhibition is one thing — this is not a critique of Abramovic’s work in general — but titillation for wealthy donor/diners as a means of raising money is another.” 

Collecting these examples, and I am certain there are many more out there, tells us that when performers of all genders are working in close proximity to audience members the boundaries for appropriate interaction need to be carefully delineated in advance. Procedures need to be in place, and followed, for dealing with disruptive audience members and those who try and push the limits of the space. For choreographers concerned about maintaining “performance mode” I will suggest that it is not difficult to include a hand signal, gesture, or even a blink sequence if there is someone watching out for performer safety. It is possible to choreograph outs and exits into a work so that performers can keep themselves safe without breaking character. If an audience member is flagged as disruptive they should not be allowed to continue through the work unattended.

In the examples above we can see the need for a proactive, rather than a reactive approach to audience disruption. The last time that you want to be making a decision about how to handle a poorly behaved audience member is in the moment when that behaviour is happening to you. While it would be wonderful to assume that the kinds of behaviour listed above will not happen, every performer out there knows that it does – as a steward at Sleep No More said: “It wasn’t until I got to a job where I wasn’t afraid I was going to be hit or groped every day, I realized how weird that was, that that was a part of my job, or that I thought it was part of my job.”

If dancers as a community want to assert that our creativity, our work, and our skills are valuable, we need our personhood and our bodies to be valued as well. That means the ability to set and maintain boundaries about what elements of our selves are available to audiences in performance, and which are not. We have moved on from the days when the poorest members of the Corps de Ballet were available for solicitation in the Foyer de la Danse. Our work is art, and art is not for touching without an explicit invitation. Our work is available because of the humans manifesting it; humans who need to eat, sleep, house themselves, feel, and maintain their own bodily autonomy. We need to make art in such a way that those needs can be assumed, met, and defended.

In Three Sentences… Queer Theory

Power structures in the world give us a certain way of looking at things, and there are certain positions and labels we recognize within those structures.

But what if we stopped accepting those structures, or looked for alternatives to the normative positions that can often guide our thinking, or stood in the spaces between opposing positions?

As well as dealing with issues of sex and gender, queer theory is a way of asserting that we should be open to value and validity in all the ways we find it, and that we can make new ways of living, being, and creating for ourselves.

(And with all that said, I couldn’t resist this song.)

 

Queer Theory reading list:

Meg-John Barker: Queer A Graphic History (amazing resource)

Judith Butler: Undoing Gender (core text, dense language)

Sarah Ahmed: Queer Phenomenology (queer as a theoretical tool)

Kate Bornstein: Gender Outlaw (shocking and hillarious and wonderful)

 

 

 

 

My Comfort or Your Culture: Close Embrace and Code Switching

It’s time for a funding drive at the Headtail Connection. If you appreciate my writing, you can give a little back here.

 

This week I have been working in four languages (not including shifts of register), and about six different types of dance. That’s not all that I can work in, and if someone needs a substitute teacher I may well be adding more to the list. But for each of those dances and languages I carry around and switch between a cultural bubble that informs how those dances and languages are learned, or practiced, and what those practices mean.

At the moment, one of those bubbles in particular feels fractured. I try very hard on this blog not to write two articles back to back about any one element of what I do, and especially not blues because I have a dedicated blues blog anyway. But I got told by a lot of people last time that the breakdown of language around blues and re-doing was helpful, so I’m going to put my nerd hat back on for a moment and talk about close embrace, and consent, and appropriation, and try and at least work out my thoughts on the matter.

Ok.

Close embrace is a soft torso connection used in blues idiom dances. The question at large is whether consenting to a blues dance, at a blues venue, should imply consent to close embrace or not? Is it a connection you ask for and opt into, or a connection you assume will happen unless you opt out?

One of the main contentions around this question is that the majority of people currently practicing blues dance under that name are white Americans, for whom a torso-to-torso connection looks like a sexualised kind of intimacy. Or it is more contact than they would comfortably give the majority of folks they’re not sexually involved with.

Folks hung up on this might first do well to read Deidre Sklar’s “Five Premises for a Culturally Sensitive approach to Dance,” and then Brenda Farnell’s “It Goes Without Saying But Not Always.” These two articles lay out with great clarity that movement is a kind of cultural knowledge, and that for someone attempting to learn the movement – or culture – looking at the dance is not enough, and following along with the dancing is not enough to tell you what the movement means: you have to invest deeply in cultural learning to fully understand what is going on.

Secondly, the idea that blues is “sexy” is a 100 year old marketing campaign that just won’t die. Blues is sexy because we don’t want to think about why blues music might have been written, or have other meanings. Blues is sexy because it’s sold as the pop culture soundtrack to white sexual liberation. Black dancers are labeled as sexy because it lets white dancers dismiss them as untutored and uncontrolled, and justify taking the dances for themselves. In newspapers, in studies, in dance textbooks: white dancers teach, black dancers infect. White dancers (and I’m looking at you Vernon and Irene Castle) make sexy black dances safe for other white dancers, while still keeping that tang of sexy, sexy rebellion. Historically, we have been encouraged to think of blues music and blues-influenced music as sexy over and above everything else, even when the lyrics and/or context clearly emphasise other meanings.

Close embrace and blues CAN be, but aren’t necessarily, sexy things. Blues is not always danced in Juke Joints, even if that’s where we’re consistently encouraged to picture it. Blues was/is played in bright sunshine, among friends and families and children. Blues is so much more than the dance you do to get close to the person you’re attracted to.

Conclusion: white dancers doing blues have to step back from the idea that their discomfort about close embrace is because it is “sexual.” To borrow a thought from Faye Adnak – a reason that we think close embrace should require verbal consent is because we’re applying a white standard of sexualised consent, rather than the standard we apply to other kinds of dance contact, like holding hands.* That’s a problem.

And.

Another side of this debate is that many people in the blues scene find more-than-a-certain-level-of-touch or certain kinds of touch distinctly uncomfortable. There are enough folks out there who are not comfortable with close embrace because it is just too much touch for them. Or they want to be asked about it. Or they only want to do it with certain people.

Separate but tangentially related are the dancers who have been creeped on, or held too close, or too tight, or just been put through incorrect close embrace one too many times to assume that the person they’re dancing with is going to do it right.

For these folks, verbal, opt in consent seems like a really great compromise to ensure that they can keep dancing blues, but know that they’ll be able to keep themselves safe within that framework. As much as we teach listening and respect for the bodies of everyone on the dance floor, people know from bitter experience that in the community as it is now, opt out consent Does. Not. Work. Or does not work enough of the time that it makes advocating for opt in consent seem like the most respectful or safest option. That does not mean that it is the right option, especially since it brings the dancer of implying that close embrace is implicitly creepy or uncomfortable.

So.

We have already changed the culture of blues dance. The idea of blues dance classes, for example is a cultural shift. We are now haggling over the parameters of acceptable change. What degree of time, investment, knowledge, cultural participation, etc. allows a dancer or scene leader to decide that they are entitled to advocate for a cultural shift? Typically the reply to that, on all sides, is “I have just enough, but you do not.” Our recognition of who has the right to advocate on this issue frequently varies depending on whether or not we like what they have to say.

When I approach languages and dances where I am a cultural outsider, I assume that I am going to adjust to cultural norms and behaviours that are alien to my day-to-day practice. I will take on actions and ways of relating to others that I would refuse if they were requested of me within a cultural activity that I considered my own. In ASL, for example, I try to keep a lot more eye contact than I would usually make while speaking. In my West African dance class I will give formal thanks to the musicians and instructor – which I have deliberately stopped doing in ballet classes.

I also assume that if I try to converse in ASL with a fluent signer they will code switch to a slightly more English version of grammar if they want to help me participate in the conversation. Similarly In West African dance classes (which are killing me, by the way!), the steps are broken down in a way that the dancers in the class, the majority of whom are trained in white American concert dance – can understand.

BUT

I understand these shifts in practice as a means of moving me towards fluency. If I am not learning the grammar, I am not speaking ASL. If I am not learning felt-time, I am not dancing West African dance. At the end of the day I have to hold onto the fact that blues dance is not my own. I can – and have – invest a huge amount of time and effort and learning, enough to hold a respected opinion, and to write about the community. But part of that learning is accepting that I don’t get to say what is right or wrong for blues, only to make the best decision I can based on my research, and by listening to the voices around me.

Part of the reason I am writing this blog post is to work through my own conflict and confusion around these ideas, which have caused a muddle and a mess among some of my deeply held values. I believe we should aspire to fluency, and teach others as if they wish to do the same. I think we should also make space for those who are not fluent yet, and for those for whom certain kinds of fluency are out of reach. How that looks in my classroom and in my own practice I do not know.

 

 

 

* Faye’s quote in full, which she was kind enough to give me is here:
“A reason we believe that close embrace requires verbal content that the initiator has to establish is that we are committed to maintaining the idea that close embrace is a form of sexual contact. That idea is erroneous and is a product of white culture norms, compounded by white beliefs that close embrace isn’t “really” a part of blues dancing, so projecting an affirmative consent model that is used to regulate sexual contact onto blues dancing in close embrace is flawed. We don’t ask everyone at a folk dance if they consent to holding hands because that is what is a reasonable expectation in that space until someone indicates they are not doing that. We don’t ask every person at a waltz if they consent to do line of dance or waltz footwork before dancing because it’s a waltz and those are reasonable expectations until someone indicates otherwise (verbally or non verbally). Same thing for closer and open embrace in blues. (Same for close embrace in tango and bal, I think). I think there is a double standard/higher level of scrutiny on blues because white people see blues dancing and black bodies as sexy, exotic, other. And white people’s misconceptions about black dances and black culture doesn’t give them permission to dictate what the dance is or should be.

 

Preservation, Politics, and Power: Re-doing in the Blues Dance Community

Blues dance. A collection of idiom forms that have clustered into new shapes; a mostly-white community of practice based around black vernacular dances; stories and histories and dances with very different voices raised in conversation and conflict. What are we doing when we dance blues?

Right now I see a number of debates going on in the blues dance world about how best to bring blues forward. These issues include how to teach culture and history alongside dance, how to introduce beginners to specific idioms and cultural information without overwhelming them, how to maintain respect for the dance and the communities who have practiced it over time, while still making it work for the community dancing it now – recognising that these communities might not always be easily separable or reconcilable. I see these debates becoming heated and personal, devolving into arguments of good and bad, right and wrong, with many folks withdrawing from our community because they cannot make their voices heard, or are afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing. Being somewhat uniquely positioned to offer an alternative perspective on these debates, I have started framing here some things to consider as we go into these conversations.

I am a blues dancer, and teacher, and organiser. I am also a dance scholar, and have spent years getting certified in the preservation and reconstruction of dances through Labanotation. Labanotation is a way of scoring a dance on paper in the way that a musician might score music. It is mainly used for concert dance, but has also been used to record tap, Bharata Natyam, American Sign Language, and vernacular jazz dance – among other things. I have recorded and reconstructed stage works, dance techniques, and pedestrian movement; I have brought concert works to the UK for the first time, I have been part of copyright cases, and I’m currently talking to NASA about putting dance in space. I run a blog discussing notations of “jazz dance” and how that relates to the blues community.

While I viscerally disagree with the notion that dance has to frame itself through an academic lens to be taken seriously, what this experience gives me is access to language and literature that I think could be useful in framing some of the questions that come up around the “authenticity” of contemporary blues dance practice, and how to approach the work of remaining respectful without shame, and accessible without diluting dances down.

Firstly: what are we doing?

We’ve come to a communal agreement in blues that we are trying to do-again a certain collection of idiom and vernacular dance forms. But there are a number of ways of approaching that project depending on resources available, the identifying features of the dance in question, and the purpose of the redoing. For example:

To reconstruct is to attempt to get a dance back with as much authenticity as possible, by drawing on a wide variety of available resources. Embodied knowledge, videos, scoring, supplementary documentation, and cultural inquiry.

To restage is to take key identifying features of a dance and keep them present, while adapting the rest of the dance to the circumstances of the production.

To reimagine is to rebuild a new version of a dance based on and adapted from our own understanding of what the dance was.*

We need to be able to make realistic decisions about what we are able to offer to a given scene at a given time, with the knowledge that we have about a specific dance.

But what IS a dance anyway?

In concert dance the big pitfall is to say that the dance is the steps. But what about dances that are improvised? That are choreographed to represent the deeply personal experiences of a selected body of performers? That are an embodiment of certain kinds of cultural knowledge? That are representative of a certain kind of physical movement system? Any dance might be any and all of those things, but how we decide what is more or less key to how we dance blues dance will radically alter how we teach and share our values.

There are some things that we cannot get back. We can never train or practice ourselves into another body. We cannot erase the physical and mental history of our own dance experience and cultural socialisation. That doesn’t mean that we can’t train very hard to inculcate our bodies with new knowledge, techniques and experiences – but we can only build on who we already are.

We also should not say that what we can get back is necessarily the thing just because it’s all we have. Learning the choreography of Hellzapoppin’ from video, for example, would not mean that we have learned to Lindy Hop. We understand that Lindy Hop is an improvised form, that Blues is an improvised form, and therefore that the ability to improvise must be present in our re-doing of the thing in order for it to be blues. For a long time we called a certain kind of 1990’s slow social dancing blues, which many of us agree now is definitely not blues. But at the time, with the information they had, a lot of folks in authority thought they were doing the thing. When did we actually start doing the thing? Have we ever?

We understand that in Blues there are technical and aesthetic principles in play that we can train ourselves towards. But we can only come at those principles from the bodies and culture that we have, and from the perspective of our present moment, however well-researched that perspective is. We are not always sure what technical, aesthetic, and cultural fluency is necessary for dancers to be able to say they are dancing blues, who gets to draw those lines, and what the consequences for falling outside of them should be. We have different opinions about what we have permission to let go of or change. We know that some dancers of the past had strong feelings about how certain things should be done, and why their voices were offered a certain degree of validity. There are voices we will never hear speak.

We do know that some black dancers appealed to formal systems of copyright in order to cement their rights of ownership and personhood in the eyes of the law, with varied success. We know that others relied on less formal, but still incredibly salient systems of copyright and ownership for the codification of who did what how, and who had the right to do it again.** We also know that part of the resistance to white ownership and theorising of black bodies has been to keep certain kinds of meaning deliberately intelligible… and that this did not stop white dancers and writers attempting to own, adapt, explain and codify what was going on anyway.*** We come at blues from a long history of white dancers appropriating black dances into new technical forms and social structures.

As we adapt blues to a new kind of social existence and transmission, we have made certain decisions about what we want to keep and what we want to change. We have adopted names, rules, and principles of movement that provide accessible shortcuts to certain kinds of knowledge.**** The act of naming creates a boundary of differentiation – these things may fall under this name but these things may not. We draw those boundaries in different places – those boundaries have always been drawn in different places. What is blues dance?

This post is not written to answer any of these questions. It is designed to open up the field of questions, and maybe provide some avenues for starting towards answers. I hope that it gives us some language to talk through our differences of opinion, and to think about what evidence might be needed in order to resolve those conversations – and what to do when that evidence isn’t there. I will continue to dance, and teach, and organise, and to strive for clarity in articulating what I am doing and what I am aiming to do and why I feel able to say that the thing I am doing is what I say it is. This includes how I teach blues to beginners, why I make certain movement choices, and how I shape my local and national community. I hope people remain interested and invested in continuing this conversation with me.

* A number of these debates are laid out in Preservation Politics: Dance Revived, Reconstructed, Remade. Particularly the article “Is Authenticity To Be Had” by Ann Hutchinson Guest

** Choreographing Copyright: Race, Gender, and Intellectual Property Rights in American Dance. By Anthea Kraut.

*** Wandering: Philosophical Performances of Racial and Sexual Freedom by Sarah Jane Cervenak is a very academic look at this.

**** Brenda Dixon-Gottschild is the obvious example here.

 

With thanks to Chris Wells for his help editing.

 

A Holiday Guide To Dancers – Part 3

Greetings from the Headtail Connection!

If you haven’t read any of the holiday guides to dancers, you might want to catch parts one and two. All done? Ok, well, this year we’re taking it to the expert level as we try to distinguish between British and American contemporary and social dancers, and I give you some handy transatlantic hints for Christmassing in these two countries.

British Contemporary Dancers

vegan-mince-pies

The place to be: London

The place they actually are: The southwest and midlands with their parents

The drink: Bucks fizz

The food: Mince pies

The accessory: Tinsel

The song: Merry Christmas Everybody

The phrase: “What are you doing on boxing day?”

Do NOT say: “Won’t everything be better after Brexit”

TRANSATLANTIC REACTION
Holy hell America you don’t even know what a mince pie is, do you? They’re 17p each at Tesco…. You don’t know what Tesco is either. Ok then. They’re small pies filled with mincemeat, which is not made of meat, but is rather a deliciously sweet concoction of dried fruit, sugar and brandy. Making these for myself in the states has been quite a quest, since you can’t buy a jar of mincemeat, nor can you buy a number of the ingredients to make mincemeat in a grocery store (supermarket). A bucks fizz a mimosa, but posher, because the queen drinks them at Buckingham palace.

British Social DancersChristmas-cracker

The place to be: SCOTLAND!

The place they actually are: Zone 3 and 4

The drink: Craft beer

The food: Christmas pudding

The accessory: Crackers

The song: Fairytale of New York

The phrase: “Shall we go out for a bit of a walk?”

Do NOT say: “We should go shopping on Oxford Street Tomorrow!”

TRANSATLANTIC REACTION
American Christmas carols still seem to me to be a little… saccharine. Sure we like our traditional tunes, but we’re more used to hairy shouty men and drunken swearing, which explains why this song from the Pogues remains endlessly popular. A Christmas cracker is a small cardboard tube, crimped to leave a handle at either end. When you and a friend pull it apart there is a GIGANTIC bang, releasing a small trinket, a terrible joke and a paper crown, which you must then immediately put on for the rest of the occasion. We cover our Christmas puddings in alcohol and set them on fire – ‘nuff said. (The video at this link may be one of the most British things on the internet).

American Contemporary Dancers

sweater

The place to be: New York

The place they actually are: The relentless suburbia of a flyover state

The drink: Wine

The food: Sugar cookies and frosting

The accessory: Ugly Sweaters

The song: Santa Baby

The phrase: “So I’m driving to my parents today, and then leaving at three to see my boyfriends’ parents and then driving back here tomorrow for the Christmas party and then I’ll probably go to Iowa for a bit and then…”

Do NOT say: “Just think, it’s been a year of Donald Trump!”

TRANSATLANTIC REACTION
American Christmas is not so much one holiday as the tail end of the sugar-soaked glut of celebration that starts somewhere around Thanksgiving and rolls on into the New Year. The ugly sweater is a Christmas-themed woolly jumper (except they don’t call it a jumper) that people wear somewhat ironically, and which is sold by the rack under that name in clothes stores and thrift stores (charity shops) all over the place. Sugar cookies are sweet, pale biscuits that would be overlooked if they didn’t come with a can of violently coloured frosting (icing) and a tub of sprinkles for you to decorate them with.

American Social Dancers

lindy

The place to be: Lindy Focus

The place they actually are: Freezing cold

The drink: Whiskey and egg nogg

The food: Green bean casserole

The accessory: Fairy lights

The song: Baby it’s cold outside. “Only with the remade lyrics.” “Well ACTUALLY…”

The phrase: “So what events are you doing next year?”

Do NOT say: “What do you think of the turn to idiom dancing?”

TRANSATLANTIC REACTION
Green bean casserole… I still don’t understand. You take a perfectly good vegetable, cover it in a can of condensed mushroom soup, and bake it topped with potato chips? Or something? It sounds like student cooking at its drunken worst, and yet it gets served with such ubiquity that I think it’s something of a national treasure. Now egg nogg on the other hand I can get behind: milk, cream, sugar, and whipped eggs and spices. British folks reeling back in horror will just have to trust me that it’s delicious, especially when spiked. The fairy lights are more tasteful than TV led me to believe. American Christmas carols are slightly dodgy, flamboyantly well intentioned, and – quite frankly – drunk.

Merry Christmas, wherever and however you do or do not celebrate!