Last night I took part in a traditional participatory activity called Contra dancing. This experience brought me to the realization that I could never pursue a career as a professional dancer. As sad as that may be, my experience at the contra dance was actually really enjoyable. Contra dancing made me feel young and involved, it is definitely something I plan on doing again, and it has many benefits for the individuals involved as well as the community.
The dance itself can be really confusing. I was keeping an open mind, and by the time we reached the Boys and Girls Club on Lincoln Street, I was ready to cut a rug. When my classmates and I arrived, we were the only dancers in the tiny, old, hardwood gym. The musicians, playing the fiddle and mandolin, were warming up and tuning their instruments. The caller (man or woman responsible for calling out the dance "calls" or moves for the rest of the dancers to follow) introduced herself to my class and began explaining the basic movements. I was trying my best to follow along and to remember each call, but I figured that if anything went wrong I could compensate by improvising (bullsh*tting) my way through.
We had just learned the dance and were told to choose a partner. All of my classmates were novices, so I wanted an experienced partner. A young lady approached me and asked for the next dance. I obliged and we began spinning around, turning back and forth down the hall. The combination of the constant motion and spinning resulted in a dizzying attempt at the contra dance. My vertigo increased with every spin, and by the end of the first dance I felt like a drunken merry-go-round operator.
I was clearly one of the worst dancers in my line, stepping on feet, misreading the calls, and uttering "fuck," "shit," or "dunkard" with every mistake. No matter how many times I messed up our line or our group, my dance partners all gave me the same response: a laugh, a smile, and a word of reassurance. "It's okay," "Don't worry about it," "You'll get it next time." These words made me feel safe, secure, and confident that I was not the only one ruining the dance.
The other dancers there were made up of a diverse and wide range of ages, genders, and class. I did feel very young being around all of the elderly dancers, but I still felt involved and a part of a group. I wasn't afraid to dance with any of the women at the contra, and I did not feel intimidated walking up to my professors girlfriend and asking her to dance. She was much more experienced than I, but she seemed delighted to help me with what my professor described as "a complete train wreck" that was my contra dancing.
I would love to contra dance again, and I would like to have my mother accompany me. It would be hard for her to step out of her comfort zone, but after a dance or two, I know she would enjoy it. Anyone can participate. There is no judgment at the contra dance. There is no competition. There isn't even a fee to dance, however donations are appreciated. There are degrees of difficulty that can be raised by adding elements like stomps, twirls, and claps. This allows for anyone, regardless of skill level, to enjoy the dance.
All of these features make contra dancing an event that benefits the dancers, and their community. The dancers get to enjoy and participate. Dances can last several hours and in some places go from dusk until dawn. More importantly, the contra dance builds a community. Socialization is the key characteristic of the contra dance. Those involved value degree of participation, diversity and inclusiveness. The people who return week after week form bonds and find connections amongst their fellow contra dancers.
As a global citizen, I could definitely find a use for contra dancing in my local community. Greenfield, Indiana has a large rural community and I could see some of the Greenfielders participating in a contra dance. To my knowledge, there are no current contra dances that take place in Greenfield. Maybe it's time for that to change.
So grab your partner, get in line, and get ready to dance.
~ Joe
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