I love dancing socially and my particular scene, the lindy hop scene, is particularly awesome. I love the music and the movement and the people too. But there's one part of the scene that seems to be gaining importance: competition.
I get why it has become a thing. Competitions validate dancers and motivate them to get better. They can raise the general level of dancing in a scene. Watching amazing dances by amazing dancers can be an inspiring thing. And the prizes are often sa-weeeeeet.
But as the community gets bigger (and I have no doubt that its much bigger now than it was when I first started), more visible, and more connected through youtube and yehoodi, there seems to be a larger emphasis on being seen, rather than enjoying connection.
This whole more people = a greater awareness of appearance has been a theory of mine for a while. I'm probably not the first person to think this (in fact, if anyone knows any cool social theory books on this stuff, I'd love to read it), but I feel like the denser the population, the more invisible individuals become, and the more they try to stand out. This is functional, I think. If you see 200 different people a day, you don't have time to get to know each of them, so you make snap judgments based on their appearance. In a cycle of reinforcement, the more people judge on appearance, the more fastidious people get about their appearance, until appearance is the social cache that can obfuscate other (sometimes more compelling) aspects of people.
These snap judgments can be made anywhere, but in the lindy hop world, it seems like competitions are becoming the authoritative venue for being seen. In order to "be someone" in the lindy world, you have to compete, to be seen, to win, even though I think there are lots of great dancers out there who don't compete. If you want to be a professional, you teach and you don't get students unless you win. And I don't really like it. There. I said it. I don't like competitions.
There are a couple of different reasons for this. Personally, I don't compete because I don't much like the idea of my dancing being judged on my ability to perform. I don't want to worry about people watching me and I just want to enjoy the connection with my partner and the music. Of course, I know even as I type that that its not completely true. On a certain level, I want people to watch me; the conceit of dressing up in vintage (though I rarely do) and acting out the past means that there's an element to performance to every dance...and what's a performance without an audience? But the idea of folks watching specifically for the purpose of judging me is off-putting. And a good dance with an amazing connection to amazing music can happen just as easily in a living room (especially if you're lucky enough to live with fellow lindy hoppers, like I did for a while) as it can on a competition dance floor. The fact that nobody is there to "judge" an amazing dance doesn't make it any less amazing for the two people doing it. And with the emphasis on being seen, especially in a competative context, maybe that personal part of dancing is getting a little forgotten.
And really, at a certain level, the results are pretty much subjective anyway. It really depends on who's judging. Maybe you've got a real technique hound who is constantly watching for clean swing-outs. Maybe you've got a judge who really looks for musicality and playfulness. Maybe one looks for lines and shapes. There's really no telling what you're going to get. Add to that that maybe the song isn't great for you, or you've never heard it, or (if it's a live band), you get the shitty drum solo, and well, shit. There's a lot out of your control and the results don't necessarily reflect what kind of dancer you are.
And honestly, some of my best "technical" dancing hasn't been very fun. I've had several dances in which the swing outs feel great and the lead leads me through turns and texas tommies like we've been pre-programmed with each other's moves. But the funnest dances are with folks who like to play and who try new things. If it works, great! We have a great "whoa!" moment together...but if it doesn't, well, we end up laughing and shorty georging back to each other. And that's great too. If you're constantly worried about messing up in front of the judges, can you really get into the spirit of innovation?
I know there are some folks, probably a lot of them, actually, who disagree with me. And that's fine. I watch competitions with good humor. When something spectacular happens, its amazing. But for me, dance nirvana will always be a good connection with my partner, playing around with movement to music, and not worrying one bit what someone else thinks about it.
I get why it has become a thing. Competitions validate dancers and motivate them to get better. They can raise the general level of dancing in a scene. Watching amazing dances by amazing dancers can be an inspiring thing. And the prizes are often sa-weeeeeet.
But as the community gets bigger (and I have no doubt that its much bigger now than it was when I first started), more visible, and more connected through youtube and yehoodi, there seems to be a larger emphasis on being seen, rather than enjoying connection.
This whole more people = a greater awareness of appearance has been a theory of mine for a while. I'm probably not the first person to think this (in fact, if anyone knows any cool social theory books on this stuff, I'd love to read it), but I feel like the denser the population, the more invisible individuals become, and the more they try to stand out. This is functional, I think. If you see 200 different people a day, you don't have time to get to know each of them, so you make snap judgments based on their appearance. In a cycle of reinforcement, the more people judge on appearance, the more fastidious people get about their appearance, until appearance is the social cache that can obfuscate other (sometimes more compelling) aspects of people.
These snap judgments can be made anywhere, but in the lindy hop world, it seems like competitions are becoming the authoritative venue for being seen. In order to "be someone" in the lindy world, you have to compete, to be seen, to win, even though I think there are lots of great dancers out there who don't compete. If you want to be a professional, you teach and you don't get students unless you win. And I don't really like it. There. I said it. I don't like competitions.
There are a couple of different reasons for this. Personally, I don't compete because I don't much like the idea of my dancing being judged on my ability to perform. I don't want to worry about people watching me and I just want to enjoy the connection with my partner and the music. Of course, I know even as I type that that its not completely true. On a certain level, I want people to watch me; the conceit of dressing up in vintage (though I rarely do) and acting out the past means that there's an element to performance to every dance...and what's a performance without an audience? But the idea of folks watching specifically for the purpose of judging me is off-putting. And a good dance with an amazing connection to amazing music can happen just as easily in a living room (especially if you're lucky enough to live with fellow lindy hoppers, like I did for a while) as it can on a competition dance floor. The fact that nobody is there to "judge" an amazing dance doesn't make it any less amazing for the two people doing it. And with the emphasis on being seen, especially in a competative context, maybe that personal part of dancing is getting a little forgotten.
And really, at a certain level, the results are pretty much subjective anyway. It really depends on who's judging. Maybe you've got a real technique hound who is constantly watching for clean swing-outs. Maybe you've got a judge who really looks for musicality and playfulness. Maybe one looks for lines and shapes. There's really no telling what you're going to get. Add to that that maybe the song isn't great for you, or you've never heard it, or (if it's a live band), you get the shitty drum solo, and well, shit. There's a lot out of your control and the results don't necessarily reflect what kind of dancer you are.
And honestly, some of my best "technical" dancing hasn't been very fun. I've had several dances in which the swing outs feel great and the lead leads me through turns and texas tommies like we've been pre-programmed with each other's moves. But the funnest dances are with folks who like to play and who try new things. If it works, great! We have a great "whoa!" moment together...but if it doesn't, well, we end up laughing and shorty georging back to each other. And that's great too. If you're constantly worried about messing up in front of the judges, can you really get into the spirit of innovation?
I know there are some folks, probably a lot of them, actually, who disagree with me. And that's fine. I watch competitions with good humor. When something spectacular happens, its amazing. But for me, dance nirvana will always be a good connection with my partner, playing around with movement to music, and not worrying one bit what someone else thinks about it.
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