A Mennonite Girl Goes Dancing

Contra-dancing at Oshtemo Grange

I went dancing.

I realize this makes me a “bad Mennonite,” but I happen to think it was a good decision.

Allow me to transport you there for a moment. The live band is playing a foot-tappin’ beat, the caller is giving the next move in a sing-song voice, couples are whirling around to the music, and others are lined along the walls, wiping their foreheads from the previous vigourous romp, drinking water, and letting their feet, joints, or aching limbs rest a bit before jumping into the next one. The mood is festive. We’re all here to have a good time. No one is watching to make sure you land right on the beat. No one cares whether you’re wearing a skirt or trousers or shorts. Everyone is there to enjoy themselves and make sure you’re also having fun. And fun is definitely being had. The only way I can describe one of the moves is as a close approximation to flying. As you hold your partner and spin, gaining enough speed, your toes barely touch the ground and then… all at once, you’re airborne! As you come back down for the landing, your partner hands you off to your corner and you follow them into the next few steps, as you reorient yourself to being back on terra firma.

Dancing is thrilling! It’s the adrenaline rush of not being able to predict everything that might go wrong (or right!), but then improvising as need be. It’s the inside communication with your partner (often nonverbal) that can’t be seen from outside, but is the life of the dance. It’s the creative spontaneity of inserting something unexpected that gives it that extra zazz, which is only possible after the basics have been practiced over and over. It’s a lot like life. Contra-dancing is a safe place to learn to follow or lead. It’s a place where you can practice surrendering your will to someone else. It’s a place where you practice the social niceties of thanking your partner for an enjoyable dance, of gracefully declining a dance when you need to rest, of conversing with strangers and making small talk.

At contra-dancing I found a community of people with whom I would not ordinarily hang out. As an evangelical Christian, my circle of influence can get very small. It’s easy to pour all my time and energy into people who are similar to me—people at school or church, but there’s no denying the fact that many of the people I met at contra were at fundamentally different stages of life than I. Most of the gentlemen with whom I had the privilege of dancing were at least 50 years old. Some were from different parts of the U.S. Some were Christians. Some were not. Some were very conservative, others were very liberal. But this common thread of dance wove us together and allowed those differences to melt away. And as the barriers lowered, stories were shared and we were able to begin conversing about things which do matter. For that reason (and because I love flying!), I am so excited to return this next Saturday for more contra-dancing!