It's the annual tradition! Costumes! Food! Out-of-Town Caller!Howard Richman, aka Lady DiaMel
How I Got Dragged Into Square Dancing ... and Stayed
I went to my first square dancing lesson mostly to get my husband, Brian, off my case. And it started out awful. Truly awful. I couldn't keep my left and my right straight, couldn't make the leap between what I was seeing and what I was doing.
But then, during a break, I took in the other people in the room, students and established dancers alike. There were as many women as men, as many younger people as older people. There were doctors and carpenters, teachers and electricians, social workers and corporate lawyers.In short, a lot of people had jumped over a lot of walls to be there that evening. Community outreach workers and political organizers toil for months just to convene groups half as diverse.
Deer Frozen in Headlights
Besides being gay, the only common thing we started out with was a commitment to learn something that might turn out to be fun. And after the first lesson, we added to that a set of humbling experiences. Holding hands with strangers. Going right when the caller clearly said left. Taking one wrong step that gummed up the graceful moves of seven other people.
If our class had been a Native American tribe, my name would have been "Deer Frozen in Headlights." But over the next few weeks, I started getting the moves in spite of myself. It took me a while to figure out why, and when I did, I realized that of course, it was so simple.
All I had to do was let go.
This was staggering! Imagine living most of your life as a self-styled thinker and then suddenly, accidentally stumbling across something that works better the less you think about it.
Learning to Dance ... and to Let GoChange happens when people let go of fear. Change happens when people come together who would otherwise never find their way to each other. Change happens when people turn their minds to what is in front of them, not behind them.
This is what the Gateway Squares make happen every time we dance, but most of the time, we’re having too much fun to realize it.
You see, square dancing is organized around local clubs that are supposed to meet up regularly and dance with each other. These clubs have a few simple rules. (1) You never turn anyone away from a square, no matter how much you might want to, and (2) you never leave a square until the dance is over and you have traded handshakes and thank-you’s with everyone in it.
The St. Louis area is home to a few dozen square dancing clubs – of the non-gay variety, to be clear – that are mostly in the suburbs and outer suburbs. Many have been in existence since the 1940’s or 50’s, and as the average age of their members has increased year after year, clubs have started folding. The people who remain are by and large over sixty and by and large not accustomed to change.
When the Gateway Squares started dancing in late 2003, they were the first new square dancing club in over three decades. The question was, would this gay club join the larger community or keep safely to themselves? If they tried to join the community, would they be accepted or thrown out on their ears?
The founding members of the club decided to give it a try, which in the context of that season was an act of great courage. Even the most ultra-out among them, as comfortable in their own skins as anyone could be, arrived at their first dance with butterflies in their stomachs and not the slightest idea of what would happen.
What happened is that everyone put the dancing first and left the politics for later. They put their one shared truth first and momentarily overlooked their differences. The gay people put their courage just inches ahead of their fear of rejection, and the straight people put their faith in community just inches ahead their own visible discomfort. Two worlds collided ... and then the dancing started.
For almost four years now, the Gateway Squares have squared up with people who have been dancing in the same clubs for two, three, sometimes four or five decades. We have danced with clubs whose by-laws state that women must wear frilly dresses of a certain length, whose members are pillars of their communities and have lived up to every expectation of a culture consumed with fear about gender and sexuality.
And then we show up.
We trample across the gender divide, laughing every step of the way, but just to be helpful about it, we put on tags that read "I DANCE THE GIRL’S PART" or "I DANCE THE MAN’S PART."
At the beginning of each evening, the two groups, gay and straight, usually stand at opposite ends of the room, eyeing each other warily and trying to act casual at the same time. Then the dancing starts, and there's not enough time for people to judge each other.
At a dance in Florissant, one of our number found herself standing alone as a dance was about to get started. A leader of the hosting club, her back hunched with sheer age, walked up to her, squinted at her name tag, and said, "Oh, you're one of the gay ones! Here, go dance with my husband."
Another member of our club, a big, burly, bearded man who happened to be dancing the girl’s part one night found himself alone in a square filled with straight people. The big, burly, bearded man who wound up standing to his left regarded him, looked him up and down and said, "I sure hope you like getting twirled!"
These stories have left many of us flummoxed. Our fear of rejection at the hands of the straight world has been dealt a serious blow. People we half-thought would throw us out of their dances have shaken our hands and thanked us for our presence. Some have even been stronger advocates for us that we might have been for ourselves.
We’ve been left to wonder, how many of the walls that separate us from the straight world are of our own making? If our identities are built around early memories of rejection and differentness, who would we be if those things fell away?
Now, I don’t want to leave you thinking that all is sweetness and light. On both sides, our community dances see as much squirming and shuffling, as many false starts and looks of blank incomprehension as we have moments of light and understanding.
Building Bridges ...
A few years ago, the Gateway Squares decided that no matter how well we get along with the straights, a lot of us just don’t feel at ease enough to let our hair down the way we need to. We like to put a lot of flair and athleticism into our moves, which does not always sit well with the sensibilities and arthritic joints of the clubs we dance with. So in addition to the dances we have with other clubs, we also have a monthly members-only dance.
Maybe this is a retreat from the idea of bridge building.
Maybe it’s an acknowledgment that from time to time, even bridge builders need to be with people who understand them without having to try.
Here’s what is certain. Here’s what we know. For those of us who crossed the line we thought could not be crossed, nothing looks the same. Even if we go back inside our walls for a time, we know the world outside them better than we did before. And it knows us better.
And it all started with small acts of letting go.
Are you ready for Advanced? You are if you've angeled at lessons for at least one September-May season, dancing the role you learned when you went through lessons yourself, and are proficient in that role.
About a week ago, an ad for September lessons went into the print version of The Vital Voice. An oversight by a Publicity team member (who shall remain nameless) led to lastyear's ad being run. As a result, there may be some totally bogus September dates floating out there. Please rest assured – and assure anyone who asks – that there are only two Mondays in September for intro lessons, 9/22 and 9/29.
You've mastered Spin Chain the Gears. Relay the Ducey doesn't give you the cold sweats anymore ... You were seen yawning during a Coordinate!
But how do I know I'm ready?
July 19, 2008, Saturday, Second Annual Hawaiian Luau Joint Dance Presented by Gateway Squares And Singles & Doubles
