Dancing in public, the Kardashians, and other late night discontent.
I am writing a progress report for grad school (yes, at 1am a few days before its due date — I have a hard time tearing myself away from the actual work and studies to actually document my learning), and I’m watching my first ever episode of Keeping up with the Kardashians. I deserve every cringe and nose wrinkle that might’ve just rippled across your face. To be fair, I need background noise to write and if I turn on something interesting I’ll watch or listen to it instead of working.
The point of this admission is that I tuned in for a split second while grabbing tea, when two of them were discussing an upcoming appearance on Ellen DeGeneres’ talk show and the fact that they might have to dance as they entered the show. They were downright mortified by the idea of having to dance. Mortified! Dancing is something the human race/human body has known how to do since before we were homo sapiens (don’t fact check my late night rants), and here are these uber-privileged millionaire broads with every resource in the world at their fingertips… too scared to dance. This is amusing; it connotes that there’s a ‘wrong’ way to dance, that there is some sort of way one can follow the impulses of their body to music that is inherently unacceptable in the eyes of society. Unfortunately this mortal fear doesn’t just plague the Kardashians, but also targets some wedding guests, club goers, high school dance goers, audience members asked to participate and many more. Sad! Sure, the US (and some of Europe, to an extent) doesn’t have the cultural dance traditions and history of Africa, Asia and South America, but can we really not find pleasure in moving our bodies authentically, regardless of what it looks like? Where do the unfortunate roots of “step-touch to the beat with very little upper body involvement” trace back to… who was the jerk that declared that as the social dance movement aesthetic of the US?
Food for thought.
Do me a favor, at least go have a moment of dance glory (in private, if you must) in my honor.