Secret Dancer Syndrome | The Voice of Choice
As a part of a new feature, I thought it would be nice to invite some new faces on to DBTH. So here for the first in the series of what I’ve imaginatively called ” The Voice of Choice” is what professional dancer, graffiti artist, copywriter, baker and all-round tour de force, Storm E Knight thinks. As a lady that knows more than a thing or three about dancing, she understands that the condition of awkwardness on the dancefloor isn’t just contained to us dads..
Secret Dancer Syndrome
Dan’s recent post on Dad dancing struck a chord and not just with the legions of Dads and Mums who have found their nifty moves have been inexplicably stolen away and replaced with a cosy embarrassed two-step. The Dad Dancing disease has many different strains. Me, I have Secret Dancer Syndrome.
I’m a trained dancer. I’ve been dancing for over 30 years. I’ve passed exams, won trophies, danced in music videos and films. I still dance. I take classes and teach them, I’m part of the London underground dance scene and have made friends all over the world through my love and gift of dance. But at the office Christmas party I did the same bobbing up and down two-step as Darren from finance and Sophie from sales.
Why? Because I only feel safe to dance when I’m with other dancers.
I was blessed to be involved in Throwdown, the legendary dancers’ night where dancers could cut loose and not just battle but dance on a dance floor surrounded by their peers. Where no one was going to stop and stare and expect you to dance for their entertainment, asking you to moonwalk or ‘do a back-flip, go on’ like a performing seal.
Throwdown was where it was ok to get your groove on; the B-boys, poppers, lockers and waackers all doing their thing without having to explain the differences in the styles to clueless onlookers. And where sometimes it was just like in the movies where moments of shared dance would pen and little moments of mass movement would turn the dance floor into a sea of synchronized new jack swing or top rock like a private flashmob. For us, by us.
It’s not that I don’t like dancing for the public, but I don’t always want a night out to turn into a dance class or performance, and I don’t always want everyone to know I’m a dancer. I like having that part of me separate from my day job. It makes me feel like Batman. And who doesn’t want to feel like Batman?