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Shall We... Dance? by David Boyne ©2002
davidboyne I would believe only in a god who could dance. —Friedrich Nietzsche |
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Why do people dance?
I’ve been told that people dance to express themselves.
I could be wrong, but in all my many observations of
people dancing in all kinds of settings, what they are
expressing seems to always be one of two messages.
The first, and by far most common message people use
dance to express is: I’m thinking what it would
be like to have sexual intercourse with you.
Every time I'm in a crowded nightclub where there is
dancing going on, I look around. Every person I see
dancing is expressing this: I’m thinking what it
would be like to have sexual intercourse with you. And
you. And you. And you.
I’ve been to weddings, and I’ve watched the
veteran married couples dancing. They are expressing
this: I know what it’s like to have
sexual intercourse with you. And still, I’m here,
dancing with you. And when the bride and groom dance
they are usually expressing this: Ha! All of them say
you never have sexual intercourse after marriage, but
I, we, are going to prove them wrong. Right? Honey?
I’ve watched people dancing ballet. They are expressing
this: I’m thinking of what it would be like to
have sexual intercourse with you, but feel the urge
to run away. But when I run away, I feel the urge to
stop, and turn, and come close to you again, and think
about what it would be like to have sexual intercourse
with you. But then I run away...
I’ve watched old movies of popular dancers from
other eras. When Fred Astaire dances with a woman it
is only a more chaste and stylized expression of the
same thing: I’m thinking what it would be like
if we got married, and then had sexual
intercourse. Off-screen.
I’ve watched modern popular dancers. They dance
to express this: I’m thinking about having sexual
intercourse... with me. And so are you.
Rappers, at least the West Coast school of rappers that
I’m more familiar with, don’t dance as much
as posture. Yet their posturing expresses the same message
in a supremely direct style: Fuck you. Fuck them. Fuck
me.
Why are we alive?
I don’t know why. I could be wrong, but I’m
inclined to believe that anyone who claims they know
why we are alive should be jailed, put under a 24-hour
suicide watch, and not allowed access to any technology
of mass communication.
Had this been done after Adolf Hitler published Mein
Kampf (in which he announced that he knew exactly
why everyone was alive and that when he got out of jail
he was going to do a lot about it) students would not
have to watch old newsreel footage on the History Channel
of Adolf dancing his victory jig, in which he clearly
expressed this: I have fucked you all!
History is filled (as our daily newspapers, websites
and television programs now are) with many people who
have claimed to know the meaning of life, to know why
we are all here. That meaning, that reason why we are
all here, is always one of three things: to give them
our money, to be their slaves, or to be their cannon
fodder.
I say, to hell with all of them. I would express that
in dance, but I don’t know how.
In fact, in all my many observations of people dancing
in all kinds of settings I’ve yet to witness someone
using dance to express anger.
So, why are we alive?
I could be wrong, but I believe a good answer to this
simple question can be found in the second of the two
messages that I’ve observed people in all kinds
of settings using dance to express: joy.
If you stop and think about it, the emotion of joy is
ridiculous.
Being alive is a lucky accident that has happened to
each of us. It may be the only thing we all have in
common.
Being free to move our bodies in any way that strikes
our fancy is also a lucky accident we’ve done nothing
to deserve.
Our lives, or our mobility, can end at any moment.
Knowing that we are alive and free to move are the roots
of dancing. And of sexual intercourse. These two acts
are urgent, immediate, and complicated. Only the professionals
in both fields bother to read the manuals and work out
the choreography. The rest of us make it up as we go
along. Every time.
Because we can.
So, when Gene Kelly straps garbage can covers onto his
feet and dances, it’s ridiculous.
And when two people meet on a dance floor and each is
so obviously thinking what it would be like to have
sexual intercourse with the other, it’s ridiculous.
And it's sublime.