Lessons from the most awkward person in the room
How learning to dance became a lesson in clarity
Three years ago, if you had invited me to a dance class, I would have thought you were joking, mad, or just didn’t know me that well. Joining a group of 20 strangers to dance in front of a mirror was not at all near the top of my list of priorities. In fact, it sounded terrifying.
But a few years ago, as I came out of a particularly challenging period, I began to confront the uncomfortable in my personal life. I had hard conversations with important people in my life, and I started joining fitness classes, which eventually led to pilates. And dance.
I dove into all sorts. Improvisational classes, contemporary dance workshops, floorwork, gaga, house and hiphop and, recently, even tribal fusion belly dance.
At first, I felt like a fish out of water, especially as one of the few men in most of those classes (if not the only man). But after getting over my own discomfort a bit, I noticed others were uncomfortable too (not because of me, lol). I wasn’t the only fish out of water.
Observing the shared discomfort calmed me. It gave a sense of shared experience. And suddenly I was no longer a fish out of water. Had the tide picked me up?
Nothing had changed. The water, whether I was in or out of it, had been an illusion all along. My perception of myself changed the water's position. Not the other way around. If you feel like a fish out of water, that’s where you will find yourself.
In one improv-based dance class I occasionally join, led by Basque performer & facilitator Maddi Fuente Ubani, we’re given movement instructions and themes to work with. For the first part of the class, this is a solo activity. I would habitually keep my movements quite small and curbed. It was challenging to express myself with the entirety of my body and to extend myself. Every inch of me resisted. But I danced anyway.
In the past, I had solved dancefloor anxiety with alcohol and had only really danced in club or party contexts. Now, I had to either move through the anxiety and be immersed in it throughout the 1.5-hour session, or leave.
I knew I was there to challenge the discomfort, so no matter how bad it would get, I would stick it out and keep going. No matter how out of place I felt. I hated some of it, but also learned that the more I hated it in the moment, the prouder I’d feel of myself that I stuck through.
(A small note on the word ‘hate’: I approach this word playfully when I use it, and with softness. It’s shorthand for something more complex. I’ll feel the emotional reaction to the discomfort, acknowledge it, and dance anyway.)
But solo exercises are one thing. Partner exercises are a different beast altogether. At this stage in the session, you’re asked to explore the themes together with someone. You also get an instruction to follow, which can simply be “if one is low, the other has to be up.” But you don’t define who leads; this is a dynamic you’ll have to explore together.
Suppose one of the people in such an exercise starts bouncing up and down without looking at their partner. In that case, they come to fully define and dominate the dynamic of that dance, with their partner being stuck following that pattern (at least until they figure out how to use this limitation to express themselves).
So at first, I approached these exercises gently. Trying to read my partner and softly nudging towards where I wanted to go with my exploration. I didn’t want my expression to be their limitation.
Then one day, I could tell I was paired up with a fellow fish out of water who didn’t seem to be all that sure of herself. I decided to extend myself and to make my movements bolder and easier to follow. It helped immediately. It gave her structure and clarity, and instead of me becoming overly dominant in the dynamic, it helped her express herself and push towards where she wanted to go and explore, too.
It opened up space for both of us.
Suddenly, I realised: “By making myself smaller, I’m creating ambiguity rather than clarity, which doesn’t do anyone any favours.”
But it wasn’t really a ‘thought-realisation’. It was physical. I experienced it with my whole body, my emotions, and my thoughts.
It was as if a life lesson had just zapped me like a lightning bolt. I would have paused to contemplate and integrate it, but the dance continued, partners switched, and I got to put it into practice immediately.
That doesn’t mean I’m the most confident dancer. Hell, those tribal fusion bellydance classes I mentioned at the start are among the most uncomfortable, humbling, and frustrating experiences I’ve had this year. Nearly 40 years of learned movement won’t change overnight. But I’m rewiring.
And this is why I think everyone should dance, or more broadly, explore movement.
Push out of your comfort zone into domains where you have nothing familiar to lean on. What you might learn could be quite different from what I learned; in fact, it could be the opposite.
જ⁀➴ for your curiosity જ⁀➴
Two of my favourite publications on Substack just hit 300k subscribers. One is called The Culturist, which writes about art and history (this explainer of Lord of the Ring’s Tom Bombadil character is a great example of why I’ve been following them since back when X was still Twitter). The other is called Instead of Doomscrolling which mostly sends out digests containing a broad variety of wholesome topics. Both warmly recommended. Congrats!
Carlo Kiksen and I go way back. We studied together for a year and teamed up in 2020 to run a free marketing & business bootcamp for musicians called the Artist Lockdown Challenge during the pandemic. Carlo writes a regular newsletter aimed at artists, The Fanbase Builder, and in his most recent piece he describes how he built a web-based synth in just a few hours (and how basically anyone can do so). If you want to build something, but don’t have any ideas, I hope this can serve as a creative spark.
If you find New Year’s resolutions work for you, how about cutting social media next year? Jessie Pagliari Tiernan has written an excellent guide about how & why she did it, that you can use as a template for yourself. Maybe it convinces you not even to wait any longer.
ᕱᕱ For your ears ᕱᕱ
I love it when people bring genres together in a way that creatively mix the best of both. On his latest album, composer and trumpetist Ambrose Akinmusire brings together a thoughtful mix of alternative jazz and hiphop featuring words by improvisational vocalist Kokayi.
Now you're boldly dancing between the pixels.... :)
Thanks so much for reading and sharing my work ❤️