From Shayna or Sheness Israel's blog: Why, I Say, White People Can't Dance (And, Yes, It has to Do with Race/Culture/Rhythm, Appreciation, & Respect)EXCERPT: Introduction For me, saying white people can't dance has nothing to do with the typical answer that they don't have rhythm. I think the reason for it includes some parts of that, but also something more systemic or structural - race relations and learning cultural contexts.
Dancing is a language (in the way we think of, respond to and through language). Its movements are its words and its grammar is its rhythm. Don't get it twisted; rhythm and grammar are really one in the same. The dictionary defines rhythm as the procedural aspect of a beat or flow.[1] Procedural means the rules and regulations. There are rules and regulations for grammar (i.e. sentences have to have a subject and a verb: She cried.) Again dance is a language—means of expression. It probably is the most articulate form of body language. The analogy I am making here is that the body language we use when talking is also language, but it is what would be comparable to everyday speech. A dance move is comparable to a well-formed speech or lecture. Lastly, a dance performance is comparable to a paper, essay, poem, novel, book, etc.
By all of this, I mean to say that when I say white people can't dance or at least can't dance with black people, I mean that they have not only not picked up a certain set of rules and regulations associated with the body and the overall beat of (black) dance, but also—in many cases— have not picked up the overall flow—philosophy of (black) dance. (To go further understand what I mean by the flow—think of it like overall meaning or point or culture of dance. Refer to the diamond footnote on page 3 for more info.)
I think this phenomenon is linked, in part, to the Puritanical tradition and white culture's fundamental devaluing and mistrust of the knowledge gathered from and experienced through the body. This tradition comes into direct conflict with the African tradition and the traditions of the African Diaspora, where the knowledge from the body is not only valued just as much as the knowledge from the mind, but continually used, acknowledged, and sought after.
This fundamental difference of perspectives regarding the body has led to different philosophies and rules of engagement regarding dance and movement—in other words, black and white people talk differently and that leads to miscommunication, misunderstanding, and even disrespect.
I am aware that this essay grossly—indiscriminately—lumps all white people and all black people together without addressing the variations due to cultural perspectives, attitudes, or expressions. I understand that what I say about black and white people does not apply to all people or groups contained under that distinction. I know there are some white people, who may be black, culturally & phenotypically, as well as there are some blacks that may be white, culturally & phenotypically, as well as know there are innumerable categories that complicate and problematize what I say here. Because of the urgency of this essay and my limitations, I cannot do justice to all those stories. The hope is that everyone will step up to the plate and do justice to her story—for everyone's sake—because the world needs to know you are out there.
Dance in this essay is primarily referring to black American dance—black American culture and procedures (rules of engagement). While I talk about dance generally and my specific experience with dancing at a club, I mean to connect that conversation to American black and white race relations, generally, and my individual experiences (as a black American woman of Belizean and Southern American heritage) with white people, specifically.
This article gears towards showing a connection between the specific and the structural, the private and the political, the everyday and the yesterdays, the present and the History, stories and the metanarratives. It also gears towards giving everyone language in which to talk about dancing and race relations in America. It also gears towards airing out my frustration caused at the club that day—It is my healing (I had the hunch that it would be other people's healing as well). Once again, I apologize if this speaks too loudly for any one group or dance style.
This article is written for all people, but especially white people. By white, I am talking about white Americans and by black, I am referring black Americans. This essay intends not to forget about the white people who respect and value black culture and what it means as well as black people and what they mean.¨
It also does not intend to forget about the white people who not only respect and value all the things said in the paragraph above, but have learned to dance with, (not at), black people through acculturation (i.e. growing up with, not next to, black people), through learning about the history behind our vibration, and/or through somehow intrinsically picking up the rhythm. Thank you. You all, in the words of Jessie Jackson, keep hope alive. KEEP DOING THAT!
[ READ MORE: http://serendip.brynmawr.edu/exchange/node/563 ]
