My experience last night was something that has made a mark on me, a body memory. I had found out earlier in the week that there was going to be a Hip Hop dance battle on Saturday. Inside my body I felt a deep calling to reconnect with a culture that had been part of my adolescent life. Dancing in a Hip Hop crew from age 11 - 16 shaped a large part of my identity. At 12 years old, I wrote about my goal of getting better at improvisation.
I understand now the reason for the calling I felt to participate in last night’s battle. It was for me to revisit the hip hop community I had left - or taken a hiatus from. It ended up being that the 30 second freestyle that I did within the actual battle was not the most important event. However, by taking this risk and sharing myself (in the battle), I helped myself to feel seen as well as part of the community. Afterwards when I went for a smoke break outside I had the courage to dance with the people who were there. It ended up being that I danced with a guy, where we shared 1 min rounds, and played with the objects and space of the street. It was a real pleasure to communicate in that way with someone. I spoke to him verbally as well and he told me some beautifully poetic things. He said that when he is dancing he is listens to the music, the melody and the artist’s words. This as a whole, is the story that he interprets and responds to with his body. “It’s someone’s story, you know, so I try to listen and feel it, each time something different. I dance history through my body.”
That night, I learned about what it meant to be in the energetic vibe of a battle. I had been explaining to a few folk that I hadn’t danced my best freestyle within the battle due to a (perceived) pressure to be cool. What I was told, and what others would reiterate throughout the night, was that a battle is a place where you bring your absolute best, your 100% effort, all of you. The word “battle” is the name of the practice, and so it isn’t a place to dance purely for your own pleasure - it has an edge, it’s a fight where you throw a toss to your opponent. Almost to say “This is me. This is what I’ve got. Now show me what you’ve got.”
I was also taking notes on the how of the battles competitive nature. I noticed that as much as it is about using skill, technique and musicality; it is equally as much about showing your character. This part intrigued me the most throughout the night. My favourite dancers were the ones who could show ugliness, darkness, their underbelly. It reminded me of clown and more specifically bouffon (a cousin of clowning where the performer isn’t nieve, but raw and ugly). One example of this was a dancer who took part in the popping category who was practiced at artistically expressing his awkwardness. Sometimes his knees would buckle inward and his body would tangle in forms that almost made one cringe from discomfort, yet were gracefully controlled.
Part of me wondered about the patriarchal qualities that I felt were still present (it was only men who were the judges, male dancers were favoured). I observed a lot of toxic masculinity being expressed: crotch grabbing, miming shooting guns and punching. I thought that maybe if it is to be expressed, this could be a ‘healthy’ place to do so. In general, aggression was omnipresent as an essential piece of the whole. Sexuality was also welcome to be expressed through the dancers bodies. I find this important as it is paired with shame in too many contexts.
The whole experience was one of great heart opening. A Hip Hop or Street dance battle is a special place of sharing humanity non-verbally through rhythm. What are the stories your body has to tell? How does this environment aid that telling?
This is a place where the body can be loud. This is a place where music and poetry speak louder than meaning. This is a place where blackness lives and thrives.
I understand now the reason for the calling I felt to participate in last night’s battle. It was for me to revisit the hip hop community I had left - or taken a hiatus from. It ended up being that the 30 second freestyle that I did within the actual battle was not the most important event. However, by taking this risk and sharing myself (in the battle), I helped myself to feel seen as well as part of the community. Afterwards when I went for a smoke break outside I had the courage to dance with the people who were there. It ended up being that I danced with a guy, where we shared 1 min rounds, and played with the objects and space of the street. It was a real pleasure to communicate in that way with someone. I spoke to him verbally as well and he told me some beautifully poetic things. He said that when he is dancing he is listens to the music, the melody and the artist’s words. This as a whole, is the story that he interprets and responds to with his body. “It’s someone’s story, you know, so I try to listen and feel it, each time something different. I dance history through my body.”
That night, I learned about what it meant to be in the energetic vibe of a battle. I had been explaining to a few folk that I hadn’t danced my best freestyle within the battle due to a (perceived) pressure to be cool. What I was told, and what others would reiterate throughout the night, was that a battle is a place where you bring your absolute best, your 100% effort, all of you. The word “battle” is the name of the practice, and so it isn’t a place to dance purely for your own pleasure - it has an edge, it’s a fight where you throw a toss to your opponent. Almost to say “This is me. This is what I’ve got. Now show me what you’ve got.”
I was also taking notes on the how of the battles competitive nature. I noticed that as much as it is about using skill, technique and musicality; it is equally as much about showing your character. This part intrigued me the most throughout the night. My favourite dancers were the ones who could show ugliness, darkness, their underbelly. It reminded me of clown and more specifically bouffon (a cousin of clowning where the performer isn’t nieve, but raw and ugly). One example of this was a dancer who took part in the popping category who was practiced at artistically expressing his awkwardness. Sometimes his knees would buckle inward and his body would tangle in forms that almost made one cringe from discomfort, yet were gracefully controlled.
Part of me wondered about the patriarchal qualities that I felt were still present (it was only men who were the judges, male dancers were favoured). I observed a lot of toxic masculinity being expressed: crotch grabbing, miming shooting guns and punching. I thought that maybe if it is to be expressed, this could be a ‘healthy’ place to do so. In general, aggression was omnipresent as an essential piece of the whole. Sexuality was also welcome to be expressed through the dancers bodies. I find this important as it is paired with shame in too many contexts.
The whole experience was one of great heart opening. A Hip Hop or Street dance battle is a special place of sharing humanity non-verbally through rhythm. What are the stories your body has to tell? How does this environment aid that telling?
This is a place where the body can be loud. This is a place where music and poetry speak louder than meaning. This is a place where blackness lives and thrives.
Thank you for sharing. I've always been envious of those who are able to communicate with their bodies so effectively. I am currently reading Malcolm X for the first time and it is interesting how so much of his sense of agency as an adolescent is tied to dancing!
ReplyDelete