Just Dance

One thing I am terrible at: Dancing

One thing that I can guarantee will happen basically every day while living in South Africa: Dancing

Growing up in a farming community that was predominately White, the most dancing I did was the Boot Scootin’ Boogie in gym class, the grapevine and box clap in theatre performances, and dancing* at prom (*This particular dance involved jumping up and down and/or performing lyrical interpretation while lip syncing. Tbh, this is still my dancing style of expertise). Even though I have little dance experience and look like a grandma trying to move what the good Lord gave her, I still love it. It is just so freeing and exhilarating to forget your inhibitions and just dance. You know, like king David freedom when you’re dancing so crazy to praise God that you don’t ever care what people see or think about you (2 Samuel 6: 16-23). That’s the kind of dancing I’m talking about.

The thing is, usually when I’m dancing my crazy dances I’m surrounded by other people who, like me, have little to no dancing ability. So, it’s a little bit more of an even playing field. But here, that is not the case. Here, I watch 2 year olds that have better moves than me. That’s not an exaggeration. It’s insane. So obviously, I don’t stand a chance. I 100% fulfil the stereotype that White folks can’t dance, and I sincerely apologise to all the White people out there that do have moves. You should come visit me and show my learners that not every White person moves like Madam Spice. Seriously.

{My neighbourhood bud Kopano dancing at a confirmation party back in December}

You get the idea. I’m bad at dancing. A lot of people in my community are awesome at dancing. Dancing happens every. single. day. So you might be thinking, “Yep. Okay. What’s the point here?” Thank you so much for asking so I could make my next point, imaginary reader.

The point is there is always something to dance about. Now, I know when real tragedy hits in life, it isn’t always possible or even appropriate to blast some South African House music and pretend everything’s okay. That’s just fake. What I’m talking about is finding real joy. Real gratitude amidst the nitty gritty sometimes boring sometimes painful day to day experiences. That is what I see here when dancing breaks out in this community that I so gratefully get to call home.

Take my school for example. We have plenty of dysfunctions stemming from a broken and recovering oppressive system. Whether it be overworked teachers, overcrowded classrooms, or under resourced schools; there are daily frustrations and failures that leave me defeated questioning if my work here is possibly contributing more harm than good. Then, Omunye by Distruction Boyz starts playing and for just a moment, the weight of these problems lift just enough to let us move our feet. It’s not a false sense of joy. It’s an authentic moment of celebration. A moment of togetherness. And a feeling that life is still more than the weight of our current struggles. It’s like my dear friend Lady Gaga once sang, “Just dance. Gonna be okay.”

Our hearts and minds will always be moved by life’s problems. Likewise, our bodies and souls can also be moved by life’s music. Too cheesy? I don’t even care, because you know what, it’s true. I might never be able to do the gwara gwara or nae nae, but I can always let go enough to dance my own crazy CP style. I'm feeling thankful for how dancing simultaneously humbles and uplifts me each day of this adventure.

Keep dancing,

Caitlin