October 21, 2008

Why I Compete (and Why You Should Too)

There are mixed opinions on dance competitions. Some say that dancing shouldn’t be about competing… that you should do it for the love of dance. I agree with this entirely. Others feel that the judging is purely subjective, and often based on personal relationships and bias. “Judges just vote for their friends.” “It’s a popularity contest.” In a small community, it can certainly feel that way. Often the divide between the top competitors and the judges is pretty small. Those top dancers may dance often with those in the judging category, because they’re at or close to the same level. And yes, sometimes there is personal bias.

But barring all the potential unfairness, for me competing isn’t always about winning. Yes, winning absolutely rocks. But I compete because I love dancing. While everyone else is sitting and watching, I get to dance for three or four more songs. The first time I competed in an open Jack & Jill contest something happened to my dancing. Suddenly, because I was aware that I was about to be observed for my ability to follow and relate to my partner, I turned up the dial on my following. I maxed it out as much as possible. My attention on my partner was more tightly focused, because I knew that for that minute, judges were looking to see if I was really paying attention to my lead. A lead can’t do their job in the competition if the follow isn’t paying attention. And if they’re a good lead, their job is to make you shine. So let ‘em do their job.

The other side-effect of competing is that once I pin that number to my shirt, I know I’m being watched, even before the competition starts. During all the warm-up social dances that happen before the competition starts, I dance as if I’m competing. I totally engage my frame and open all of my awareness to the subtleties of my lead. Even if the person I’m dancing with isn’t my favorite, I’m giving them my best dance ever.

The after-effect of this is three-fold:

1. Even if I don’t make the finals, I’ve created an awareness about my dancing amongst the watchers. I’ve walked into a room where I knew next to nobody, competed, and before finals were even announced, my dance card was full for the rest of the night. People see you dancing your best, and they want to dance with you.
2. The best dancers often compete. You’ll get a chance to dance with some of the best during a Jack&Jill, and even if it’s just for that minute or two, it will be a great learning experience.
3. That competition head-space, where I’ve cranked up my following to its max, is a space I can go into at any point. If I realize I’m giving someone a less-than-attentive dance, I can remind myself to dance like I’m competing.

If I don’t make the finals, sitting and watching the final round is always incredible. I take it as a great lesson as to what the judges are looking for and what some of the best, most musical and creative dancers are doing. And, I keep my eye out for people that I want to ask to dance.

There’s often a bit of synchronicity that plays into dance competitions as well. More than once I’ve bee matched with someone in the final round of a competition that I’d been hoping to dance with on the social floor. I’ve watched people who aren’t regular partners make it all the way to finals, win, get entered in the strictly competition the next night and win again. I’ve had friends enter competitions for the first time, make it to finals and discover a favorite new dance partner in the process.

A final note to leads who are afraid to compete: I asked a guy that I had some really great social dances with to compete with me at a local event. He warned me,
“I’ve never competed before. When I know people are watching, I blank out and forget my moves.”
“Don’t worry I said. Let’s just have fun.” (Because that’s often one thing judges look for.) During the competition, there was a section of music where I could tell he’d blanked out on moves. We did swing-out after swing-out. After a couple of these, I decided to try to spice them up for him and I threw in some styling. We finished the competition with big smiles on our face, but we both knew some other couples had really torn it up out there. I was impressed when his friend walked over with his camera saying that he thought he’d gotten most of it on video. Later, he watched the video, which helped him see what he did in the competition. (The stress of the experience can make you forget what you were doing!)

A couple months later he sent out a note on Facebook that he’d won a Jack & Jill at an exchange! Part of the pressure of competing in any physical skill is, whether or not you can do it under pressure. If you want to improve your skills, put yourself into positions where you know people will watch you. Ask some friends to watch your social dance and critique you. Set up mini jams at a house party. Get in on the local competitions before you try your luck at an exchange.

Remember, competing doesn’t have to be about showboating. When we agree to watch our friends compete, we are appreciating what they do. We’re letting our peers inspire us. And we’re sharing in a love of the dance, and afterwards, we clap them on the back and say, “Great job dude! You really gave it out there!”