In March 2015, I attended the 11th Annual Texas Salsa Congress in Houston for the first time. Despite what the name may suggest, it had nothing to do with politics and everything to do with music and dance. It was my initiation into a global community of people who shared the same passion, all at different levels of experience. Though I was only 7 hours away from home, I met people who had come from much further to perform and share their expertise in dance workshops. This network of like-minded people stretches from continent to continent, and is always continually expanding.
I have been a member of Pura Sabrosura, the Latin dance club at the University of West Florida, for two years now. In Pensacola, opportunities to dance salsa and bachata are far and few between. We know what events are available to us: Latin nights on Saturdays at Blend Lounge or driving to Destin's Bric à Brac. Occasionally we find an event at a restaurant or bar venue, but besides these, the dance scene appears to be very small.
Even when we travel to visit our sister organization at FSU, The Corázon Dancers of Tallahassee, there's always something much bigger going on in town than we'll find at home! Gainesville, Orlando, Tampa, and Miami have their own dance scenes and host their own assortment of events and congresses. Outside of Florida, major cities like D.C., Los Angeles, and New York City host similar events. Finally, there's events we broke college students can only dream of attending in Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic! It's amazing to think that we have something in common with strangers thousands of miles away, and though we dance similarly, everyone has their own style.
Just recently, the world turned to look at Orlando's Pulse LGBT nightclub, whose patrons were violently attacked in a hate crime/terrorist attack. While many chose the mere hours after the event to form moralistic opinions about "radical Islam" and "gun control", I couldn't stop thinking about the intersection of two identities that this Latin night at Pulse represented and who it affected. A safe place that I felt kinship with was violated. All day after the news broke, I was hoping I wouldn't know any of the victims, given that many could have been a part of the same dance community that I was. The most heartwarming thing I saw, in contrast to the dark and ugly commentary that I witnessed in my Facebook news feed for days, was members of the dance community supporting those personally affected by this tragedy, from all the places I named above. In good times and bad, there is a sense of unity that comes from dance; in fact, dance could be described as the "language of body", something you don't understand it until you do it.
Now, Pensacola, being a town closer to conservatism on the political ideology scale, does not have a place like Pulse where LGBT people of color in particular can find a safe haven. There are so few gay bars and Latin dance clubs that you can probably count both on one hand, let alone find a place at the intersection of both minority groups. When we leave the sleepy towns of Northwest Florida and immerse ourselves in the cultures of other cities, we meet the most diverse groups of people possible: age, race, gender, ethnicity, sexual orientation, national origin.
New Yorkers dance completely different styles from Angelenos. You can hear so many dialects of Spanish in one place, not to mention the countless other native tongues spoken by congress attendees. Sometimes soloists perform, or duets, and even teams that fill up an entire stage. Everyone can learn to both lead and follow, depending on how many pairs can be made in partnerwork workshops. Beyond salsa and bachata, styles can range from merengue to cha-cha to pachanga to hip-hop fusion.
When I think about it, the term "Latin dance" doesn't even cover the styles of dance I've learned while a member of Pura Sabrosura. Zouk and kizomba are dance styles that are currently taking the world by storm, from Haiti and Angola, respectively. We even had members who attended a dancehall class hosted by UWF's Caribbean Student Association. Even in today's music, from Major Lazer's Free the Universe to Rihanna's ANTI, the influence of Caribbean countries who don't typically identify as "Latino" or "Hispanic" can be felt... and it makes us all want to dance! Regardless of our countries of origin or languages we speak, there is something universal about the appeal of dance.
This community I belong to is full of friends and people I have yet to meet. The workshops I've attended have given me the skills to form dance patterns that I can use again and again, and opportunities for social dancing have allowed me to prove that I learned something in these classes to my dance partners. I have danced with newbies and professionals, and every social dance is like its own story. I've also learned more about rhythm and musicality, a skill that pays off well when you dip your partner to a perfect moment in the song, which is a feeling that must be experienced through doing. Having fun with what you're doing and the people that you're with makes the entire experience.
One day I may finally get to perform on a big stage and show off just what I can do. This upcoming year, I can only see good things to come for Pura Sabrosura, my "Ohana", as we say. We all support each other, in the good time and the bad. It feels good to know that friends near and far are here to support us, and I hope they know we will gladly do the same for them. This is what "Ohana" embodies, as perfectly stated in Disney's Lilo and Stitch: "Ohana means family. Family means nobody gets left behind... or forgotten." I was blessed enough to find my tribe; and don't we all deserve to find the place that we know where we belong?
