Dancing Is Undignified

Dancing.  It’s as old as time; it’s an expression of our protozoan origins and animal spirits; a ritual, an art form and a leisure activity.  It’s in our history, our culture and our genes, from royal weddings to prime-time television.  So why don’t men do it that much?

I’m not talking about the low-slung, anguine writhings of hormonal teens in dripping basement fashion-hovels.  Youthful nights spent grinding in lower-lip-munching pseudo-sexual agony are just the unsophisticated expressions of newly discovered sexuality, and as such are really just a stylized expression of the urge to rub against females.

This is about groups of men standing at weddings, talking about sport or politics, arms folded and clutching their beer, drawn in tight circles like a wagon-train defending itself against the predations of circling comanches – or, in this case, women looking for someone to dance the lambada with.  The women themselves, meanwhile, are all dancing – from the bridesmaids alarming everyone with their frighteningly accurate copying of Britney’s thrusts and open-mouthed stare, to their mothers shaking off the years in a groove of white wine and muscle memory, and their grandmothers tottering lamely but gamely on each other’s arms through a few steps of the Slosh.  They’re all at it – why aren’t the men?

Well, maybe it’s this: dancing is generally seen among most men (publicly, at least) as a bit vain, silly, undignified, unmanly and embarrassing.  Obviously, there’s perhaps some suppressed fear of letting oneself go underneath this, but it could all stem from that stage in development when young boys stop skipping about with their girl counterparts and start kicking or throwing a ball.  At some point, possibly encouraged by their fathers or older brothers, they get the hang of throwing and kicking, and it becomes fun.  And once they are able to do that, they never look back, spending all their playing time on sport of one sort or another.  Eventually they lose touch with their dancing roots, and that’s where the feelings of inadequacy and discomfort stem from.  Most girls, on the other hand, keep on dancing, with their infantile jumping about giving way to practised routines (and Britney thrusts) in front of the mirror in their rooms, to the motor learning of natural moves they can call on whenever they feel like it.

Of course, there is a possible slant here towards men from countries with a north-European tradition, but I think the difference between the sexes applies to a greater or lesser extent everywhere.  Even in countries where cliché demands men dance like a cobra entrancing a mouse whenever music above 10 decibels is being played, there will be far more of them than women sitting (or standing) it out on the sidelines.  And when there’s a game on the television anywhere near, even the dance floor reptiles will find themselves shimmying on over to it.

So there we are: women have dancing; men have sport; and the unbalanced aesthetics of the wedding disco are just another casualty of conditioning.

Contact the author here: thewhy@morningquickie.com