Dancing the Night Away
Recently, my husband and I attended an ‘80s dance party at Cat’s Cradle, a local music venue. I love to dance and rarely have the opportunity to do it. Although a dance party wasn’t my husband’s idea of a fun Saturday night, he was game. A couple of music venues in our area occasionally hold ‘80s and ‘90s dance nights, and I was curious to see what it was like. In our era of digital and automated everything, I was excited at the prospect of watching two humans spin vinyl on turntables.
We expected the crowd to be at least 70 percent over the age of 55, given the era of music the DJs would be playing. Not so. Rather, most of the people appeared to be in their 20s. There were couples, people in small groups, people alone—all who just wanted to dance.
An older couple got things started. Then a man, who looked to be in his 70s, joined them, grinning and swaying near the sidelines. Slightly less inhibited after a glass of wine, I turned to my husband and said, “let’s do this!” and we hit the dance floor.
In a corner behind us sat three young men, one of whom looked either stoned or asleep, but they eventually got up and started dancing in a circle. Then four young women bounded onto the dance floor, their long hair whipping from side to side as they moved to the beat. I watched these women all night—the sheer joy they emanated as they danced together.
Another cluster of young men moved to the center of the dance floor, broad smiles on their faces. One of them kept grinning at me; I imagined him thinking, “look at this old lady out here dancing, how cute.”
For the first 2 hours, the two DJs played deep cuts, not the hits I was expecting, but about 10 p.m. they starting queueing up songs from that era that many people are familiar with by bands like Talking Heads, Madness and the B-52’s. The Gen Zers were all in—singing along to these songs they seemed to know as well as I did. They even knew the lyrics to “99 Luftballons” —in German.
I was struck by how happy the dancers—of all ages, races and orientations—were as they let their bodies find the groove, totally uninhibited, perhaps forgetting about their concerns for a few hours on a Saturday night.
Only when I’m dancing can I feel this free
At night I lock the doors, where no one else can see
I’m tired of dancing here all by myself
Tonight I wanna dance with someone else
Of course, people have always come together through singing and dancing. I’m guessing most of us don’t engage in group dancing very often. But perhaps we should.
Researchers in the field of dance neuroscience note that when people dance in groups there’s a blurring of the self as a result of the synchronization that happens while dancing together. Our bodies release endorphins when we dance, making everyone just feel good. Dancing together creates a shared experience that brings about empathy and connection. It can help dismantle barriers and bring people together in a joyful and transformative way. I certainly felt group joy at Cat’s Cradle that night.
I’ve read about the Earlybirds Club, “a dance party inspired by the bygone nights spent clubbing with your girlfriends ... but now at a much more reasonable hour: 6-10pm,” whose mission it is to “give people—especially women and gender-expansive folks—an opportunity to dance the early evening away without the late-night drama, judgment, or creeps.” I hope they bring a dance party to a town near me.
Perhaps the way to bring about world peace is to hold a global dance party. I like to imagine what that would look like: people all over the world dancing in the streets, hate and guns set aside for a time, just moving their bodies to the beat, together.