Swing Dancing

WARNING: this is a big one, and it gets nerdy

I graduate on Friday.  I’ve been thinking a lot about all the things I've done, places I've gone, people I've met, subjects I've studied, and mentors I've looked up to for the past five school years.  One thing I’ll miss the most is the Swing Kids Club.  I've wanted to write a little tribute to this gem of a club for a while, and this is as good an opportunity as any.  

I took an Introduction to Folklore class this semester for my last GE requirement.  (Most people have an incomplete vision of what folklore it.  Basically, it’s traditional and informal knowledge of a group of people.)   I did my major semester project on the folklore of swing dancing.  As part of it, I interviewed dancers to analyze why kids joined the club, what made them keep coming, and ultimately, how they felt they belonged or not.  This project allowed me to think back on my own experience with the club and how I learned the lore and found a place in this group.  The exercise has been enlightening.

If you didn't already know or haven’t figured it out yet, I like to swing dance.  Like real, '40s, big band, jazzy, swing dance.  During the winter semester of my freshman year at BYU, I sort of invited myself along to a club dance one weekend with a friend from my ward.  I knew nothing, and it showed.  I’d never tried real partnered dance before and I was completely lost!  I felt stupid at my lack of knowledge.  I determined it would not beat me, so I started attending lessons the club holds on Tuesday evenings.  I finally learned the steps, and eventually I learned to dance.  (Those are very different things.)

Swing dancing became my default social life.  If I didn't make plans for Saturday night, I could always rely on a swing dance somewhere on campus full of friends to dance with.  During my sophomore year I tried out and made one of the club's dance teams (I'm on the left. Oh wow, that was a long time ago.  We were all still learning).  Through that experience I became more integrated with the club and its members.  People recognized me when I came, and missed me when I didn't.  It felt good.

When I interviewed fellow swing dancers for this folklore project, almost everyone identified a handful of key characteristics of club “regulars”, people who are clearly recognized as belonging to the swing scene:  

• Frequent attendance
• Intent to improve
• Attending alone
• Take initiative to become friends with other dancers

As you can gather from my description above, I naturally did all those things.  I felt validated as I talked with other dancers and saw that their process of integration mirrored my own.  I felt like not only do we all belong because we share the above characteristics, but also because we all went through the same transition into dancers.  We all knew what it was like to be confused, self conscious, and unsure of ourselves.  Because of that, we appreciate each other’s success all the more once someone “got it”.

Whatever the factor, I think my love of swing dancing can really be boiled down to two things: the club was a place I belonged, and it was also a thing all my own.  It was really the first time I exercised my independence and found something by myself I wanted to learn about and excel in.  I built up my skill on initiative and desire.  Nobody was grading me; no coach pushing me.  I didn’t care what other people thought about it.  The sheer possession of the hobby helped me create an identity for myself that was really all me.  The self esteem boost at this formative time of life left me satisfied and empowered. 

That’s the take home message here.  We’re defined by the groups we are a part of.  Some are chosen for us, but others we get to choose.  I think the ones that we get to choose reveal the most about us.

I think I just had a related epiphany.  But I’ll save it for another day.  

Dancing last year at the Utah Lindy Exchange