This one is for the ladies. Most of us associate dance-especially Latin dance-with femininity: because dancing can be so sensual, it imitates the mating ritual, highlighting the masculine/feminine duality. Some of this happens naturally, and a lot of it is taught, in the form of movement, posture, footwork and style. It varies from place to place, with some styles emphasizing ultra-feminine hand placement and “daintier” footwork. The differences even carry over to salsa culture, where in some areas it is popular to find make-up, sparkles, fashion, and high heels.
With this traditional element of femininity within modern culture, I wonder: how does it fit in with other aspects of modern culture that are not so feminine? After decades of women’s rights and title IX allowing women to have university sports teams, and girls who now grow up playing rough sports, how do we merge the femininity of the old times with the athleticism of today?
Of course, neither the concept of femininity nor that of athleticism is bound by time (though it is certainly bound by culture). I believe that it is a fascinating thing to see the two merge in the physically challenging art of salsa dancing. Dancing is by no means a way to easily sit back and look pretty. It is not posing for a camera, staying still so the hair can remain in tact. It involves running out of breath, smudged makeup, hair messed up by this move or that. It involves swapping sweat with your partner, and many male partners touching your sweaty back, sides, arms, or stomach to execute a move. Sometimes you could even say it borders on “rough sport” when it involves heel-squashed toes or elbows to the face. It involves the nitty gritty…yet women still find a way to be sensual, beautiful, and feminine.
This is no accident, it takes effort. We have to make sure we have enough spray in our hair and safety pins holding our shirts (we don’t want things to get THAT feminine ;-). There are trips to the bathroom to wipe off sweat and fix our hair. But there is a point at which we just give up. Surprisingly, this doesn’t always result in a negative way. At congresses, after thousands of bodies have been dancing in closed areas (anyone remember last year’s West Coast Congress?) it turns into this hot, sweaty, primitive concentration of sensuality. After all, isn’t it true that sweat and body heat release pheromones?
An even better contrast is found in performance. When a team is practicing for a routine, the women are red in the face, sweaty, hair messed up, and after running through the routine numerous times, walk away to put their heads on their knees (which I haven’t done since running the 800m in track and field). This is such a high level of athleticism that despite being in great shape, the dancers are always winded at the end of a routine. Nonetheless, come performance day, there will be hairspray, make-up, heels and sparkles. When the performance is done, couples will walk off stage poised, men holding their heads high and women looking beautiful and confident in their femininity.
I am happy that femininity is allowed to be athletic, and on the contrary, that athleticism is allowed to be feminine. In light of history, culture, and the combination of the two, it is the merging of femininity and athleticism that contributes to the “art” of dancing Salsa.
That’s a great perspective. I’d love to hear your thoughts on the counterpoint….masculinity in doing something that is traditionally feminine (dance).
Daniel, that’s funny, I was just having that discussion with a friend. Apart from “dance” being traditionally feminine, SALSA in particular seems to be an exception, allowing guys to express their masculinity. We also came up with African dance and Hip Hop as other “masculine” dances. What are your thoughts on the topic? (cough cough….maybe we should start a forum thread ;-))
I’m sure we can make salsa a more mainstream sport if we had a “2008 Salsera Illustrated Sexy-Dance-Feet Calendar”.
I had this same exact conversation with my partner, Camila, yesterday during dance practice.
We had dance rehearsal in a moderately warm studio and Camila developed a sweat towards the end of the practice. So she started complaining about it because she said that it was very uncomfortable to feel sweaty. I tried to convince her that it is natural to sweat during a workout session or during practice. But she continued to express that it wasn’t sexy or womanly to look “disheveled”. This cracked me up very much.
I explained to her that under certain circumstances it is very sexy for a woman to “look” sweaty and slightly unkempt, for example, in a dance club or during dance practice. “I need to go freshen up. I don’t care!”, she replied. She is such a diva.
Whatever.
My two cents: Girls, we don’t care if you sweat or have messy hair. As long as basic hygiene is observed, nobody cares. Salsa is a sport.
As an ‘official’ beginner in salsa, but while dancing all my life (fourteen years of hip-hop, dancehall, dance, reggeaton, clubbing and 2 years of ballroom dancing), I am actually quite shocked to read that ‘dancing’ is seen as ‘traditionally feminine’, a stigma that I’ve been coming across for all my life. Understandable, because there is nothing more feminine or attractive then a fresh sweating, blushing woman with a literally hot body (high body temperature) that physically ‘completely’ surrenders (follows) to the movements of the leading masculinity in an intimate and sensual interaction between two entities. But as dance (any dance whatsoever) is communication, a spin-off of natural mating rituals and a means to express emotions, there is as much masculinity and athleticism (that are two different concepts) as there is femininity. In social-psychology ‘femininity’ is basically defined as ‘relationship aimed’ and ‘masculinity’ as ‘goal obtaining aimed’. Both males and females have feminine behaviour as well as masculine behaviour, and each individual leans a little more to the feminine or masculine side. Dancing is, perhaps the perfect, combinative interaction of both, as a constant process of Yin and Yang following each other up; battling each other and thus becoming one entity in the dancing ritual.
So ‘masculinity in doing something that is traditionally feminine’ is impossible. Dance is traditionally most likely masculine, it is the male that asks the female to dance, to impress and seduce the female (and other females that are looking) with his skill of leadership and determination, to show that he is the strongest mating partner for her offspring, that he will take good care of her and her offspring. Dance is impregnated with more masculinity of goal obtainment then any other ‘sports’: direct contact with the subconscious hidden agenda of mating. And females accept the dance, to see if the male can walk the talk, to maintain relationship with the male in case one day he actually is able to become that best mating partner, to share emotions, and most important: to show off her femininity to the dancing partner and all males that are looking: I am the best female mating partner on the floor. Something you cannot and will not communicate with all the fluffy ‘feminine’ hairspray styling, make-up, high heels and sparkles in the world.
The purer the dance, the closer it is to the roots of it, the more masculinity that originates from it (the showing-off to females), can be found. But, hip-hop, dancehall, ‘African dance’ (almost all dances are spin-offs from African dances), are by no means only ‘masculine’ dances. Since here also, in the reactions of the female on the challenges of the males, extreme high levels of feminine reactions can be found.