Who knew dancers were so dangerous?

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What does our government have against dance? I have asked this question over and over, and I still haven't received a satisfactory answer, or, in fact, any answer at all.

For a long time I thought our provincial leaders were simply oblivious to the mere existence of social dance. They are most certainly oblivious to its many benefits (more on that later). But now I have become convinced they actually do have something against it and against us. The only public mention of our neglected sector in a recent press conference announcing the loosening of Covid measures in all areas of entertainment except dance was something along the lines of, "Young people dancing in discotheques, no, we're not ready for that yet."

First of all, why is that the only image of dancing presented to us? Crowds of young, irresponsible, drunk kids grinding the night away, spreading their viruses to everyone else in the room. Believe me, I have nothing against dance clubs or discotheques, and I think it's time they be allowed to open, too, but what about the milongas (as tango nights are called), the salsa clubs, the ballroom evenings, not to mention swing, line dancing, square dancing and others. Activities where it's all about the dancing and much less about the cruising or the drinking.

Speaking of drinking, what is with the absolute ban on drinking and dancing in the same place? Since the beginning of the pandemic, the SAQs never once closed. After all, alcohol is apparently an essential service, up there with grocery stores, pharmacies and heart surgery. Even dentist appointments were cancelled early on and my March 2020 appointment with my GP still hasn't been rescheduled. But government-run alcohol sales never stopped, because what else are people to do when they can't eat out, get a haircut, socialize, go to the gym or even go for a walk after 8 p.m.? (I'm pretty sure my nightly wine consumption was responsible for most of the 15 pounds I gained in the first three months of the pandemic – despite daily yoga, dog walks and online teaching.)

Eventually, restaurants and even bars were allowed to reopen … as long as the dance floors remained closed! So when it comes to booze, it's all you want and all you can drink! But definitely no dancing!

For the purposes of health regulations, dance studios have been lumped in with gyms from the start. So my tango studio is supposed to directly and seamlessly apply the same rules laid out for weight training, running on a treadmill and aerobics classes. Meanwhile, dancing has somehow been outright demonized along with gyms in large part because of one now-infamous Quebec City gym that caused one of the worst superspreader Covid outbreaks in the country. Now, let me be clear, it was a gym. Not a dance studio. And a gym run by an outspoken anti-masker who didn't enforce any sanitary or distancing measures. So was the gym an example of how dangerous social dancing – or even gyms – can be or how dangerous an anti-vax, anti-mask, rules-flouting, irresponsible business-owner can be?

As vaccination levels increase and we look toward the end of the Covid pandemic, just about every country/state/province/city in the world is allowing social dancing again. But not Quebec. There was a tango marathon in Toronto last weekend, which dozens of dance-deprived Montrealers attended. It was advertised as a vaccinated-only event and, as far as I know, there have been no Covid outbreaks associated with it. New York City's tango scene is back in full swing, and, according to a recent New York Times article, Covid has not begun spreading in that tango community either. Almost every country in Europe (with the possible exceptions of Italy and Belgium) now allows social dancing. 

Here in Montreal, since last week, social distancing has been abandoned in restaurants, theatres, concert halls and other sectors. But not in dance studios. So you can now have more than 21,000 screaming hockey or music fans sitting side by side in the Bell Centre for hours at a time, removing their masks to eat their hotdogs and drink their beers, but dance studios are still limited to 25 teetotalling masked dancers. If you happen to have an enormous studio and are thus allowed to surpass 25 dancers, you can then allow no partner changes whatsoever and must enforce the two-metre distancing rule without exceptions. All of which, for tango dancers, means one clear thing: no milongas.

If milongas – here or elsewhere – or similar events had been responsible for some important Covid outbreaks, I would understand a little more. But as far as I know, the outbreaks continue to occur in schools, workplaces and seniors' residences. So why is it the dancers who are being punished?

In my tango studio, we reopened briefly in summer 2020 and have now been running small classes and guided prácticas since July of this year. We follow the extremely restrictive distancing/masking/vaccination rules pretty closely and have had a grand total of one student who reported having Covid in almost two years, but it was neither caught nor transmitted at our school or in our community. So where's the terrible danger in the dance world? I know I'm not seeing it.

The physical and psycho-emotional advantages of dancing are well-known. There's the exercise aspect, the socialization aspect. … In any case, the benefits are surely more significant than those of downing a bottle of wine over dinner or sitting in a movie theatre for two and a half hours (as opposed to on the couch in front of Netflix).

Still, somehow, dance, dancers and dance businesses remain in a chokehold while the rest of society is allowed to open up and move forward.

To be clear: I am pro-vaccine and my partner and I have adhered to the rules both in our personal and professional lives from the start. I do not think that masking, vaccinating and taking care of my health and that of the people around me is an unacceptable infringement on my "freedom." But I do believe that we eventually need to learn to live with this virus and that if every other business and every other sector is allowed to move forward, we should be, too. 

The restrictions on dance leave me feeling excluded, forgotten, angry, frustrated and impotent. How about you?

A poem: Torn

A relentless virus

And clueless leaders

Tried to tear our passion away

But the music plays on

And our restless bodies

Can’t resist the beat and sway

We’ve shed some tears

Over friends we miss

And partners held too long at bay

But our fire burns strong

And we will live on

To dance together another day

A poem: Gestures

I walk in, I lift my chest, I am confident

I cross the room on rubber legs and have a seat
I wave my hand to get a drink and take a sip
You lift your glass, I lift my gaze and our eyes meet

I look away, breathe in and out, look back again
My stare intent as if I weren’t feeling shaky
You nod your head, my lips curl up and you walk over
I stand, hold out my hand and let you take me

To the floor we walk together, then pause a moment
Your arms embrace me, my eyes close and we begin
I feel I know you as you send your rhythm through me
You pull me close and I can feel you from within

Your steps are clear, your timing perfect, I am smitten
As we glide around the room like lifelong mates
But your moves have much more meaning than your history
There’s only present, there’s no past, it isn’t fate

The set is over, we say thanks and maybe later
You hold my arm as you escort me to my chair
Another sip, another scan, another target
There you are, so cool and graceful over there

I sit tall, I look your way, but you won’t see me
And then you're off with someone else to take a spin
I’m disappointed but I smile and look around me
At the gestures so like mine we could be kin

This is the game, this is why we come together
To make eyes, to make connections and to dance
So I smooth my dress and stand up nonchalantly
Then I hone in, hoping this time I’ll catch your glance

(Loosely set to the melody of El Choclo.)

A poem: Sometimes, I like to watch

Sometimes, I just like to watch
Your face intense, hers passive
Your eyes on her, hers averted

Over there, her face in ecstasy
As you pull her close
And others pass by, oblivious

Lost in their own throes
Of touch, sound and feel
In their world among the rest

I see your smiles and I smile
At the pleasure you can’t hide
As the rhythm plays through you

I feel how you love his touch
While he's proud of his prowess
Both of you so happy with him

You are here, he is not
You feel his very presence
He’s forgotten you are even there

A moment of abandon
A collision. A passing apology
Tension dispersed by the beat

A thousand different steps
Expressing a single song
Countless souls sharing one passion

So unique, all of you
Engaged in a single pursuit
Two by two in the ambient light

The damp air is full
Of your sweat and devotion
I breathe it in too

Often, I am among you
Sharing your floor and your fire
But sometimes, I just like to watch

A goodbye letter to 2020

Dear 2020,

Goodbye and good riddance! I will not miss you, but that doesn't mean I didn't learn anything from you.

You were difficult, stressful, fattening and frustrating. You were full of loss, loneliness, conflict, controversy and drama. You drove a wedge between many of us as we put our feelings and opinions about you on full display. Thanks to you and with a little help from social media we publicly shared our views about politics and science, often angrily exposing thoughts and feelings like never before with friends, colleagues and acquaintances.

However, people learn a lot from adversity and I am no different. So, what did you teach me? What did I accomplish with you and thanks to you?

I learned to slow down. This was one of the hardest lessons for me. Instead of jamming as many hours of teaching, practicing, planning, publicizing, managing and running errands as possible into each day I took long walks and did long yoga practices, I read books and watched shows and movies, I cooked and gardened and spent more time with my family and my pets. Sure, I still worked, adapting my business to the new reality as it unfolded and evolved as best I could, but even with online teaching (and a brief but blessed return to in-person teaching) and managing the task of keeping our tango school afloat (staying in touch with our dancers, raising funds and applying for financial aid) the pace of my daily life dropped considerably. Slowing down is not easy for someone like me who needs to feel useful and productive constantly, but I know that it has been good for me. (Now I even wonder how I will go back to working 10-12 hour days five or often six days a week when the time comes.)

I learned to be patient and adaptable. In March 2020 I had never taught an online lesson. Nine months later I have taught about 100 of them. In March I could not imagine wearing a face mask every time I went into a public place, let alone teaching or dancing with one. Now I've done all of that countless times and hardly give it a second thought. (Do I like it? No, of course not. But I'd rather wear a mask and be able to socialize a little than stay cooped up any more than I am.) I got used to standing in line, giving a wide berth when passing people in the street and refraining from hugging my friends. Our family has adapted to the weirdness of our daughter's high school year and to all of us being home and in each other's space way, way more than we ever used to be.

I learned just how generous people can be. My partner and I have been overwhelmed by the outpouring of support for our tango school, MonTango. There have been so many messages of encouragement and financial donations from our community during this near-total shutdown of social dance activities. In March we hoped to reopen in May, then June, then July. We did open partially in July, but it was extremely limited and quite short-lived. We had hope for a return to normal by January, but here we are on Jan. 1, shut down more completely than ever with Covid numbers worse than ever. Who knows when we will reopen at all, not to mention in any way resembling "normal?" We would not have survived this long without the support of our friends, students and dancers and we are deeply touched and humbled by that knowledge.

I learned to appreciate the little things. If nothing else, last year was a reminder to take the time to stop and smell the flowers and to take nothing for granted. I found myself regularly gaining new appreciation for my health, human touch, a tasty meal, a conversation with a dear friend, good weather, nature, the ability to walk, the presence of my family and so much more.

I learned to live for the moment more than ever. I have always believed this to be one of my qualities, but this year reinforced for me that you've really got to seize the day, because tomorrow you might not have the chance. Life is short, fragile and unpredictable. So I didn't wait when I needed a haircut or a massage, when I had the chance to teach a class or visit a friend in person, when that book-writing challenge came around, when we had the chance to spend a few days at the lake or in the mountains.

I learned to let go. Of intolerance and judgement over other people's ways of thinking, of frustration over government decisions, of impatience over everything from waiting for the end of this pandemic to waiting in endless grocery store lineups. Anger, frustration, worry, impatience: They're natural emotions, but so unproductive, even counter-productive, so it's a good exercise to notice them, avoid getting too wrapped up in them and let them go.

I learned acceptance. Similar to the previous lesson, this one manifested itself in accepting my friends and relatives both despite and because of our differences of opinion as well as accepting the reality of the day no matter how unpleasant or unbelievable. It all contributes to keeping us open-minded, flexible and, ultimately, more generous.

I learned new computer skills. More downtime meant time to learn new skills. So I taught myself to use a new DJing computer program, which I had been meaning to do for years, and, along with the rest of the planet, I learned how to Zoom.

I learned to cook new dishes. I, too, baked much bread, not to mention cookies, cakes and pies and I tried lots and lots of new recipes, some more successful than others and many of them vegan. I've been a vegetarian and occasional vegan for several years. By the way, this month I'm joining the Veganuary movement, so no animal products at all for the next 31 days (and maybe longer)!

I learned to write again. My initial return to writing after a decade-long hiatus was six years ago in 2014, when I started writing this blog. In 2017 I set myself the ambitious goal of writing 20 blog posts in a single year – and I accomplished it. Then my writing dwindled again for a couple of years. This year saw me publish eight new blog articles and several French translations. Then, in November, I joined the NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) challenge and wrote 50,000 words of a novel in 30 days. A week and another 20,000 words later I had finished my first draft and now I am 80% of the way through my first rewrite. Whether my novel will ever be published I don't know, but just finishing it is a big accomplishment of a lifelong goal, so, yay me!

So, there you have it, 2020, ten valuable lessons you taught me. Thanks for all of them and I'll surely never forget you, but it was definitely high time for us to go our separate ways.

Sincerely,

Andrea