This article originally appeared in Cogitare’s Fall Print edition.
You don’t have to be a Grove City College student very long to notice that when it comes to social activities, dancing is a perennial favorite. Some dances here are your typical college formals, like the homecoming dance, Gala, and Ganza, while the Graffiti and Street dances might be better described as “informals.” That’s not to mention that the swing and ballroom clubs attract a faithful group of weekly regulars, or that you might come across some English country line dancing on a Saturday afternoon. Though all these gatherings are social events centered around dance, they certainly do not all achieve the same effect. (You wouldn’t want to show up in a white tee shirt covered in Sharpie signatures to just any of them.) Not all dances are created equal.
In addition, dancing could elicit a broad range of responses across a campus like ours. Some Christians might consider all dancing inappropriate, especially when dancing with someone of the opposite sex. Others are perfectly comfortable waltzing with a partner to some Strauss but wouldn’t dare set foot in the courtyard during Street Dance. Still others would rather leave the Strauss for their grandparents and instead crave the rush that comes when all of upper campus pounds to the bass coming out of the Student Union, where a few hundred sweaty students bounce to the beat.
I’ve walked away from different dance events here having undergone profoundly different experiences. I’ve been in the Student Union in its sardine-packed state, when flashing lights and cranked stereo overwhelm the senses. It took my friends a long time to succeed in coaxing me out onto the dance floor, and even when they did, I must admit that my self-consciousness outweighed my enjoyment of the people I came with.
To speak to matters of conscience, friends of mine have expressed being deeply troubled by the behavior they observed at conventional 21st century pop dances here. On some occasions – like the one I just described – it would be hard to distinguish our campus culture from the Vanity Fair described in Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress.
But not all the dancing events I’ve attended here have left a sour taste in my mouth. Recently, I have learned some basics of waltz and swing with a small group of friends, an activity that fosters true leisure and improved friendship. During one charming evening of Jane-Austen style dancing on a cold autumn night last year, I watched a room come to life as we all participated in the larger give-and-take of the dance, which transformed us from mere individuals in the same place into a whole that was more than just the sum of its parts.
In moments like these, I have tasted and seen that dancing has the power to bring communities together beautifully, in a way that nothing else I can think of does. Musical and deeply communicative, dance involves our souls, and yet remains very much embodied, bound by the physical constraints of gravity and momentum and inertia.
Dancing is not bad in itself, and certainly there are a whole host of atmosphere-shaping factors that can make or break a dancing event. When done well, however, communal dancing can be deeply delightful, beautiful to behold, and even edifying.
Social events centered around dancing should bring people together and outside of themselves. They should not be competitive or performance-based, but leisurely and recreational. In a word, they should be fun. Sadly, I think that many of the dances hosted on our campus are falling tragically short of this mark. When dances become more about appearances and attention, their capacity for delightfulness diminishes. Under the guise of recreation, these events devolve into performance culture parties.
When dances become more about appearances and attention, their capacity for delightfulness diminishes. Under the guise of recreation, these events devolve into performance culture parties.
To observe a community dancing together is to observe a distillation and embodiment of that community’s values, whether implicit or explicit. What do we think about ourselves, the relationships between men and women, and the individual’s relationship to the broader community? The ways we dance together speak to these questions. When Christians dance together, our actions ought to speak to these questions very differently than those of the world.
But the outward conventions of cultures are just as formative as they are informative. When we are in step with the rhythms of our social practices, we become shaped by those rhythms. Like liturgies, the patterns that choreograph our lives both demonstrate and influence what we believe about the world. Therefore, Christians pursuing a good life – one that is rightly oriented – would do well to attend to what our dancing communicates to others as well as what it preaches to ourselves.
Dance has great potential to bring a community into the good life, but some modes of communal dancing are more conducive to this than others. The mainstream 21st century pop dances fall on the less conducive end of this spectrum because they promote an individualistic, performative attitude and fail to help men and women relate well to one another and to their broader community.
First, the kinds of dancing found at these events are a product of our deeply individualistic culture and undermine the event’s capacity for true community. In re-imagining ourselves, as the first chapter of Dr. Trueman’s book on the “modern self” suggests we have, we’ve arrived at a psychological view of self, one that lends itself to the notion that whatever we find inside ourselves can and should be expressed. Mob-like dances like a typical homecoming dance reflect this. Aside from the basic expectation that your movements will be in time with the beat of the music, dancers are pretty much just encouraged to freestyle – to express themselves however they want to, regardless of what the people around them are doing.
Self-expression is not always bad in and of itself, but self-expression poses two main concerns to consider. For one, completely self-expressive dancing implies that our actions have no effect on those around us. One of the beauties of dancing with others is that it requires us to attend to and respond to others. Doing whatever we want eliminates this aspect. How much are we really dancing together if you and I can dance in completely different ways right next to each other? A second and perhaps more concerning reality is that constant pressure for the individual to make a statement of self-expression leads to an environment driven by appearances, performance, and attention. Since suggestive behavior gets attention, it makes sense that provocative dress and eroticized dancing are often found in environments like this, just as Trueman’s book traces the connections from the modern sense of self to the modern sense of sexuality. Striving after attention at all costs creates an atmosphere of insecurity, which only takes all of the carefree, clean fun out of dancing.
When it comes to the term “freestyle dancing,” the point is usually that we are freed from restraint to do whatever we please. The great paradox of liberty is that unless we are freed to some higher standard, we aren’t really free at all. In contrast, structured dances with step patterns can actually allow us to be free to enjoy dancing more. Styles like swing, ballroom, and line dancing provide such a structure and free the dancers to think less about how they will express themselves next. Yet there is still room for creativity. When first learning, I just practice the basic steps of swing, but my more experienced friends can begin to improvise, incorporating more variations within that structure.
Secondly, more traditional forms of partner dancing have greater potential to teach fitting relationships between men and women. Such styles do not negate romantic love but instead place the more intimate aspects of dancing with a member of the opposite sex in a context of respect, decorum, and clear gender roles. An etiquette built into something like a Regency style line dance, for example, informs the ways that men and women interact.
Consider the fact that when a man initiates a dance, he asks the woman if she would like to dance, and both partners thank each other at the end. When a dance is designed such that the man has to lead, the woman must learn to follow. In order for the dancing to look and feel effortless, they must lean into these roles. In contrast to the undisciplined sensuality found at modern dances, the structures and conventions of decorum surrounding traditional styles provide a context for disciplined and more enjoyable relationships between the men and women in the room. This way of treating members of the opposite sex sets up a model and precedent for the ways we navigate our personal relationships.
Dance has great potential to bring a community into the good life, but some modes of communal dancing are more conducive to this than others… In contrast to the undisciplined sensuality found at modern dances, the structures and conventions of decorum surrounding traditional styles provide a context for disciplined and more enjoyable relationships between the men and women in the room.
In his essay Sex, Economy, Freedom and Community, Wendell Berry writes: “The problem is that – unlike a married couple, a household, or a community – one individual represents […] no harmony. The individual life implies no standard of behavior or responsibility.” The practice of dancing with a partner implies a standard of behavior and responsibility – a standard worth practicing.
Lastly, the combination of structure and couple units found in group dancing places the couple’s relationship to one another in the larger context of a community. In the essay mentioned above, Berry says that “community life is by definition a life of cooperation and accountability,” and the same is true in group dancing (true group dancing, like English line dance, contradance, and square-dancing). If one couple is not doing what they are supposed to be, other couples and indeed the entire community of dancers is affected. In this context of community, the couple unit is affirmed, needed, and depended upon to make the dance truly enjoyable.
Several lines from Berry’s poem “The Dance” illustrate this point exactly:
I would have each couple turn, join and unjoin, be lost in the greater turning of other couples, woven in the circle of a dance, the song of long time flowing
over them, so they may return, turn again in to themselves out of desire greater than their own, belonging to all, to each, to the dance, and to the song that moves them through the night.
Here, the dancers are a part of something much bigger than themselves. They are moved by “desire greater than their own” and “belong to all.” They are participating in true community. And they are enjoying it. It is this progression of being moved outside of ourselves that is the very crux of a thriving and pleasurable community life.
The kinds of social forms we embody affect our relationships to ourselves, to others, and to the community at large. When dance events serve to properly, and indeed beautifully, situate us in a reality larger than ourselves, dancing brings great joy. When they fail to do this, I’m afraid dancing serves more to distract than it does to delight.
Though many of the dance events here and in broader culture encourage the modern self to triumph over true community, opportunities for truly enjoyable dancing are still alive and well. Seek out these promising opportunities in your time here. The music inviting you to step through the doors welcomes you – not just into a dance, but into the “greater turning” of a rich communal life. Come in and learn the steps.
