Most social dance styles frequently discuss whether variations, changes, and interpretations are “authentic” enough to be considered the same dance. From West Coast Swing to Salsa, Bachata to Brazilian Zouk, it happens constantly – especially as dances evolve and change with time.
On a basic level, we all agree that there is a line when a dance ceases to be that dance. For example, no one looks at ballet and says it’s Lindy Hop. Similarly, no one looks at Viennese Waltz and calls it Cumbia. The tricky part is trying to set out why the dances are different – and the fewer the differences, the harder that differentiation becomes.
But, why is it so hard to define a dance? And, how can we honour authenticity in a dance form, while welcoming evolution and change.
A Lesson from Language
If you are reading this article, you either can read English or are using a translation service. You know what I’m saying because of the structure, combination of letters, and grammatical rules that allow you to interpret meaning from text on a page.
Within a specific language, like English, you’ll have regional variations – some which may make the language barely understandable to other native speakers. For example, I struggle to understand a thick Scottish accent. Even generationally, youth may use very different structures within the same language (see also: Gen Z slang).
Why? Language evolves as collective understandings change. Geography, age, social groups, and more can all influence the development of rules – or even what words people use to express an idea.
Dance is the same. Regional trends are present in many styles, with more broad rules based in the global community. The common understanding is what makes the dance “authentic”. And, just like language, those dance dialects can morph so much that they become a completely different dance – just like French, Italian, Portuguese, and Spanish all evolved from Latin.
When a Dance Feels “Wrong”
Sometimes, the way someone is expressing a dance feels “inauthentic” or “wrong” because it violates some of the basic rules established as a collective within the dance. Language works the same way. For example:
- Eye cann rite liik dis and ewe mae stil b abl too reed it, but it feals rong. Rite?
- “I can write like this and you may still be able to read it, but it feels wrong. Right?”
What I wrote will be understandable to an English speaker as written, but it feels beyond just “incorrect” – it feels “wrong” to the core. The person may say it is still English because it’s comprehensible – but for many, it will be on the border of “real” English.
If I broke even more rules (like sentence structure), it would be gibberish:
- EyeNnacEtirKiilSidDnaEweEamLitsBLbaOotDeerTi’TubTiSlaefGnor’Etir!
- Same letters, different rules. Unreadable because you don’t know what rules I used.
At this point, I’m not comfortable saying that this sentence is English – even though it uses the same alphabet. I’ve wilfully ignored enough English “rules” that it has ceased to be English. In dance, that “wrongness” can sometimes be prolific enough that it gives rise to a whole new “dance”, like how the terms Sensual Bachata and UrbanKiz now refer to very different dances than Bachata and Kizomba.
“So are learners not dancing the ‘real’ dance?”
When a person not fluent in English communicates, they may break some rules – but not to a degree that they’re no longer speaking English. For example, there may be grammar rules or spelling that are a little off:
- “I do written this way and you maybe still can read, but it felt like incorrect, yes?”
It is still clearly recognizable as English – just not fluent. This is similar to learners in dance who are beginning to understand rules and structure, but don’t fully grasp how to use them all consistently. If anything, they need to rely more heavily on the rules than a native speaker both when speaking and listening.
In dance, this still feels authentic to most people because it is an honest attempt to execute the dance. Perfection is not the standard in the context of average social dancing – understandability is.
Establishing the “Rules”
Generally, each dance has several established rules that form the backbone for identifying the dance. For example, you could say that Brazilian Zouk:
- Is danced to 4/4 time music;
- Features recognizable movements like Lateral, Basic, Yo-Yo, Soltinho, and Bonus;
- Has elements including head movement and body isolations;
- Has the long step on the 1, 3, 5, and 7 of the music with a projection of the foot;
- Uses a torsion (or twist) of the upper versus lower body;
- Uses Brazilian Zouk hip movement;
- Connects from the hips through the upper body in a close hold; and,
- Has moments of elasticity.
However, it is very easy to go online and find examples of Brazilian Zouk that break every single one of these “rules” and that most Brazilian Zouk dancers can still agree looks like Brazilian Zouk. This is because a skilled dancer can break some of these rules – but adhere to the remaining rules enough to be coded as Brazilian Zouk. Knowing where the line is before it becomes “not Brazilian Zouk” is something that many experienced dancers intrinsically feel – even if they can’t describe it. In this way, “rules” become “suggestions” to people who are very proficient
Competition Rules vs. Dance Rules
Many dances have an element of competition that may have different rules than social dancing. Brazilian Zouk is the one I’m most familiar with, so I’ll use it as an example. As a whole, Brazilian Zouk is probably one of the most tolerant dances when it comes to different or changing “rules” within the dance – but competitive rules are a different story. For some people, competitive rules and social dance rules are conflated – which leads to some interesting discussions.
Competition rules exist to standardize what is presented for the purposes of judging a competition. Many may mandate elements that are completely irrelevant to social dance – like costumes, props, showmanship, lifts, drops, etc. They reflect a reality that is typically more rigid than the social dance environment, and exist in a more binary yes/no structure.
This should not be conflated with the dance’s rules, which (as discussed above) function more as guidelines as your proficiency grows. For example, an artistic choreography may not make a good competition piece despite its authenticity simply because it violates some competitive rules. Similarly, many social dances would not be appropriate for any competition simply because there is too much creativity that pushes at the boundaries of the “rules.”
“Why can’t a learner break the rules?”
The short answer is: they’re probably already breaking too many.
For example, a brand-new Brazilian Zouk dancer may struggle to execute foundational steps, let alone apply any of the other rules. They may only be recognizably dancing Brazilian Zouk when they concentrate as much as they can on the rules they do know.
As their ability to dance improves, they may gain more ability to bend certain rules while making the dance recognizable. Similar to language, the degree to which you can treat rules as suggestions depends on how many rules you know, and how well you can apply them.
Cultural Subtext
It’s important to also acknowledge that cultural subtext plays a big part in establishing each dance’s rules. Culture informs how we use things like language – and that applies to dance as well. For people who grow up in a culture, their grasp of these unwritten “rules” is intuitive.
Here’s a fun English example:
In dance, these cultural cues also exist – but expressed through body movement. Typically, dance is also strongly embedded into the cultural and artistic context of a country in a way most well-known languages aren’t.
This means that people who are not part of the native culture have to work harder to understand the “essence” of the dance. In most cases, amateurs are deeply welcomed when they try to understand the culture of a dance. However, it becomes a little tricky when dancers from outside the culture move into a more professional sphere. In this context, they have an added responsibility to understand the cultural idiosyncrasies of the art they’re practicing.
Social media has complicated that conversation because the visibility and notoriety associated with professionals has now expanded to include many amateur hobbyists, and has also broadened access to the consumption of social dance. This means that there is increased scrutiny on whether what is displayed for the “public” is ‘real’ enough to count.
While public opinion is not the end-all for determining what is ‘authentic’, it is important to listen to the voices of the people who really have invested in building our dances’ culture. If they express discomfort, it may be worth examining whether the “heart” of what you’re doing has strayed too far from the rules, and therefore resulted in an uncomfortable feeling of appropriation.
In Conclusion
Defining what is (or isn’t) your dance is typically very difficult, and filled with imperfect definitions. Even the most obvious rules typically have exceptions – which makes it difficult to define the true identity of a dance. As a result, I find it easier to look at the cumulative rules rather than specific criteria. This is a more flexible approach that allows for creativity and innovation, while also honouring tradition and the roots of many culturally-important dance styles.
Ultimately, the more rules you know and the higher your proficiency, the easier it is to bend (or break) the rules while still keeping the dance recognizable.
Have thoughts? Leave them in the comments!
