A few weeks ago, I participated in capital bachata connection 2024, which is a 2-day-over-a-weekend festival for Bachata held at Te Whaea in Wellington. This was also my first ever Bachata festival, after starting Latin dance just over a year ago.
On Saturday and Sunday, the festival consisted of streamed lessons in the morning, followed by open classes in the afternoon. Saturday night concluded with an evening social, and Sunday finished with a practica.
You could get a ticket that gave you access to all classes, but I chose to opt for a fundamentals pass, which gave me access to the streamed morning classes and Saturday social.
I ended up paying extra on the weekend to attend some open classes, so in hindsight, I would have got a full pass.
Enough exposition, how did the experience make me feel?
How I felt during the weekend?
A guy, who I had met on the dance floor of the Saturday night social, summarised I how felt during the entire weekend. At my first social, it felt like I didn’t belong because everyone was so good.
This was probably the highlight of the weekend, meeting someone who felt the way I did.
Dancing, whether it’s on stage or with a partner, makes me nervous and uncomfortable. I’m not talented or skilled at it. I feel uncoordinated and ungraceful. And worse of all, I think I look stupid doing it in front of others.
But… I know dancing is good for me if I put the time and effort to improve.
I was influenced to social dance thanks to a very good friend of mine. He took me to a dance social. At the time, I had no clue how to dance, but wouldn’t it be cool to travel anywhere and dance? It’s a great way to meet people and make friends.
Showing keen interest in learning, my friend got me in touch with a dance teacher in my area.
These serendipitous events happened just over a year ago, but it took me this long to partake in my first festival. I had plenty of opportunity in the past but thought I wasn’t ready. And to be honest with you, I didn’t take dance that seriously, until I bit the bullet and attended this one.
I can tell you now, I wish I did this all sooner and took it a lot more sincerely.
During the festival, the classes left me feeling out of my depth. Like my friend who I met on the dance floor had said, everyone seemed so good.
The open classes were even more daunting since any skill level could attend, even the advanced dancers.
The leaders could lead well. And whenever I was paired with a decent follower, I was bombarded with the thoughts of what they might be thinking: oh this dude is pathetic, he can’t dance at all. I wish I could dance with a real man who can lead me well, not this loser.
Fortunately, I have no hard evidence that these thoughts were true. And I was pleasantly surprised at how wrong I was. Most followers were forgiving and patient with me, giving me great pointers and constructive feedback.
That was pleasant, but come to the dance social, I was mortified asking people to dance with me.
Luckily, with the group I was with, one offered to be my warm-up dance, which gave me the courage to ask strangers. My second dance was with someone who was new to dance as well. So, I wasn’t alone.
As the night progressed, I’m reminded by the words of one of my dance partners, when ever we meet to dance, she asks me: are you having fun? So I focused just on that, having fun.
By the end of the night, I was filled with endorphins. I was happy that I went to this festival. I was happy to go through the challenge of asking someone to dance, and being vulnerable with my (lack of) dance skills. It’s like what one of my pole dance teachers said to me: you are proving to yourself that you can do some hard sh*t.
What did I learn?
1. It’s okay to make mistakes.
Learning as an adult is remarkably different to learning as when we were children. As adults, we have an ego; we feel like we need to get everything right without missing a step. If we make a mistake, we beat ourselves down. Compare this with children, though they lack maturity, aren’t afraid of making mistakes or looking silly in front of others — they are in it for the fun and the play.
My dance teacher even says that most adults shut down if they can’t get a particular move — it’s like a defence mechanism.
What seems to make it worse too is that these mistakes are amplified because they are witnessed and felt by another person, your dance partner.
Something that I had to come to terms with is that of course I am going to be making mistakes — I am learning! Making mistakes is part of the process of learning. In fact, we learn from our mistakes.
2. Your journey is your journey.
I’m comparing myself to others — the other leaders could lead well.
It’s intimidating seeing what those other leads were capable of on the dance floor. You see this when a person you were dancing with dances with them.
It’s just you and me — profound words by my dance teacher said to me while we were in the middle of the dance floor. It’s a reminder to stay present, not get distracted by what’s around me, and to focus on the music and safety of my partner.
I’m also reminded of a kind elderly lady who recently started dance lessons with us. She would get upset if she could not get a particular step and would profusely apologise for small errors. Dancing with her from a first lesson compared to her third lesson, I noticed a huge improvement, but she would continually apologise — even to our dance teacher — and was unable to see her own progress. This made me think. We don’t even notice our own improvements. So we can’t be too crucial on ourselves, especially this lady.
3. Enjoy yourself
It’s just dancing. I take things and myself too seriously. Dancing, though it’s frustrating in the beginning with a steep learning curve for leaders (and as an aside, I do think followers have it easy in the beginning but reach a plateau much sooner since they provide the small details and accent to a dance), is supposed to be a fun activity.
At the same time, we don’t want to be apathetic and give up. What’s the solution — to be sincere. We are not taking it too seriously, but we also care to get better and make it a good experience for everyone involved.
If you are having fun, it’s likely your partner is having fun, also.
What are my goals?
My goal in social dance is to become a lead who feels amazing to dance with. Not looking good, but feeling good. That means avoiding being flashy, instead focusing on connecting with your partner, as my dance teacher — who is an absolute gem — would emphasise: connection.
I just want to take some time to say how grateful I am to my dance teacher. She’s able to act as a follow and provide feedback since she is able to dance with me. I love the way she teaches, and a lot of what I want to focus on is inspired by her. I am very lucky to have her as my teacher (she’s totally not reading this, by the way).
When it comes to be being good to dance with, a lot of experienced dancers as well as my dance teacher says, it’s all about the basics. Fundamentals, fundamentals, and more fundamentals.
It’s okay to challenge yourself and learn more difficult moves, but there is no need to learn “faster”. It’s much better to learn the basics well.
Finally, I want to end on what I found dancing means to me. It’s an incredible feeling. Another human being trusts me enough to be close and connected and to have somewhat of a control over their body.
To summarise, I had a great time at the festival and learnt lots. It definitely won’t be my last!
Thanks for reading this far. I hope this helps you out in your journey of social dance.