Step into any dance party on campus, and you're almost guaranteed to see the same thing: girls in skimpy tops, pushing their backsides into whoever happens to be behind them, and guys moving just enough to get the girls to grind with them. Occasionally, a particularly talented soul will manage to pull off a move more complicated than the standard pelvic gyration, but for the most part, the bump and grind reigns supreme. It seems that social, non-performance dancing has deteriorated into vertical sex -- the only difference being that the participants wear clothes.
According to Wikipedia, the word "dance" can be used "to describe methods of non-verbal communication between humans or animals." This makes a lot of sense, but is it really the sense we'd like to make? The typical dancing at parties seems to say, "If I like the way you move, we'll go back to my place and I can show you some of my moves."
Of course, dancing has certainly served as a sort of mating ritual throughout the course of human existence. In the recent remake of the early nineteenth century classic "Pride and Prejudice," Elizabeth and her sisters scope out the dating scene at a local ball. When the eldest Bennet sister, Jane, is asked to dance, the rest of the girls are sure that she will eventually marry her partner. On a very basic level, Austen's dance ritual mean the same thing as our modern day grind-fest, but aesthetically, it represents a much less vulgar way of socializing.
Today, anyone in our generation who isn't able to move their hips is considered to be inept on the dance floor. The only socially acceptable form of dancing is to be as physically alluring and sexually appealing as possible. Call me crazy, but for me, dancing is a form of self-expression and release, not an open sexual invitation.
On Saturday night, I attended a party at Panarchy where I ended up dancing with a friend -- the difference was we were swing dancing. We twirled and spun around the dance floor, weaving through the other couples who were awkwardly moving their hips to the sounds of a jazz trio. After we had finished, several people complimented us on our moves. While I had fun and while I am far from being a professional dancer (in fact, all I know about swing dancing I learned from "Grease") I can turn quickly enough to avoid falling over my own feet and I follow well. What we were doing was, in the college social scene, a novelty and certainly a change of pace from the usual activity on a fraternity dance floor. Is it simply because I danced without gyrating my hips that I received attention?
I would love to see the re-emergence of less crude forms of dance in the dance party scene. Salsa, swing and hip hop, for example, can be sexy and fun without crossing the line into vulgarity.
The difference between good dancing and dancing that is no longer fun to watch is the sexual tension, the allusion to possible attraction; when this turns into an act of foreplay, the dancing loses a certain appeal. Social dancers need to reclaim the dance floor as a place for physical expression, and leave the sex in the bedroom.
