Taking a Chance on a Silent Dance
Originally published on August 1, 2019; edited and republished November 2021
It’s fun to think back on ideas and hobbies you adored as a child or teen, and to realize that even though some things were forgotten for a bit, they occasionally creep back into your adult life and become something significant again.
I was a kid in the late 90s and early 2000s when Britney Spears, The Spice Girls, NSYNC, etc. were all the rage. I’d listen to their albums and my favorite songs on repeat, then make up choreographed dances, not for anyone else but me (and for one talent show with my friends.) I loved doing it! Music and dancing have always been a big part of me, and although dance groups were fun and inspiring to watch, they weren’t quite my style; I was more about freely dancing, the way the music made me feel, or how it told my body to. Or how it made sense — like pointing thumbs at my chest to “It’s Gonna Be Me”.
I adore musicals because people will just drop everything and break into song and dance, as if it’s a part of everyday life. Why isn’t real life more like that; wouldn’t it be amazing? I don’t see our world turning into a musical anytime soon, but I get a little piece of that when I put my earbuds in, blast some good tunes, and start mouthing words and dancing in public.
My first experience with silent dancing (dancing with headphones) was about nine years ago. I was living in my small hometown again and made a habit of walking around at night with my headphones on, which either helped me think or cleared my mind. Every night I’d stop at the elementary school park to swing, reminisce, listen to a few tunes, then keep on my way. But one of those nights when I got to the school, I decided to skip the swing and walk down to the ball field where I just...started dancing.
The next night it was the same thing. I walked to the elementary school, past the swings, down to the ball field, and danced my little heart out, not minding that my shoes and legs were covered in dirt. The night after that, I went back to the field, danced a little, then decided to take it a step further: I climbed up on top of the school and started dancing around the roof, the stars overhead, not a care in the world. It was exhilarating — and probably illegal.
Skip ahead a couple years, during my time in Minneapolis; aside from dancing in the living room, I’d occasionally go to Gasthof’s or other places to get my dance on. Sometimes I’d be the focus of the floor because of the way I moved so freely and you could tell I was having a great time. Back then there was usually plenty of booze involved though, and for a while I assumed everyone had to be drunk to dance. We could act a fool together and no one would remember. Dancing sober and alone seemed like a far-off idea in a city where there’s always someone around, so I tamed my urge for a while.
Photo credit, Duane Vosika Captures
But last summer I took a chance at something I wanted to do again, and this time I decided people would see it. I wanted to challenge myself to dance without alcohol, to music only I could hear, out in the open where people might judge — but my goal was not to care. I parked myself on the corner of 13th and Jones in downtown Omaha and began my silent dancing journey.
My heart raced, not from dancing, but from the anxiety and vulnerability I felt. It took a couple songs, but I began to feel comfortable and finally let myself go.
People walked by either smiling or confused, and some even joined in for a moment. Others would drive by and honk their horns or throw their hands out the window in excitement. One day while dancing downtown, a bunch of teenagers ran up and started dancing around me although they didn’t have music or beat in their ears. Another time at Aksarben, a little girl popped outside of a restaurant and started dancing across the street. I ran over to join her, we danced for a few minutes and talked, then she went back inside to her mom. It was such an incredible experience!
It felt wonderful to able to help others step out of their comfort zone as well, to see that initial hesitation melt away.
A huge piece of silent dancing for me is the emotions that I can express through movement and the feeling that I’m doing it without caring about another’s judgment. People might argue that they can’t dance, but EVERYONE CAN DANCE, some might just be afraid of what people will think. Once you surpass that fear, it’s such an honest and freeing experience.
Lyn Cassady : I can't dance, sir.
Bill Django : Now that's not true, is it? What happened was someone told you you can't dance.
The Men Who Stare at Goats (2009)
If you’re curious and the thought of doing it solo scares you, in recent years, silent dancing has made its way into clubs that host “silent discos.” I’m not the biggest fan because I like being outside and choosing the music, but the idea of walking into a quiet room with a bunch of people dancing does seem like a fun time. But you can also find silent dancing meetups in certain cities if that sounds more appealing.
I must admit, the silent dancing journey came to halt these past several months. Occasionally I’ll dance in my living room, but it’s not quite the same. About a month ago I danced in the cemetery across from my house, but it didn’t last because summer happened and it’s unbearably hot. There are a string of excuses I could pull out for why it’s been almost a year since I’ve consistently made dance appearances out and about, but it doesn’t matter. Eventually I’ll make my way back into the streets and parks of Omaha or Lincoln to do what I enjoy and hopefully help others take a chance at something crazy and exciting, too.
If ever you question the “silly” things you do, remember the spotlight effect, which is our tendency to think people notice us more than they do. I used to think every little thing I did was so important to a random stranger, but the honest truth is that when people see you do something you perceive as possibly odd or embarrassing, they might think something of it for a moment, but they’ll rarely remember it. They probably didn’t even notice. Even if they do, does it really matter so much that it holds you back from succeeding, having fun, and possibly inspiring others?
What is it that your heart is leading you to do? Discover what that is and go for it — you’ll be happy you did.
“When there's nothing to lose and there's nothing to prove, well I'm dancing with myse-elf!”
—BILLY IDOL
Do you relate?
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