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I love to dance. I always have. And, actually, I’m pretty good. When I was really young, my parents would tape MJ and Janet videos for me. I’d spend hours and hours practicing to those tapes until I’d mastered every move down to the smallest hand motion.

When I got older, my friends and I started a singing group and we performed in talent shows. I’d watch hours of videos from different recording artists in order to choreograph our performance.

I went to my first real dance when I was a freshman in high school. I walked into the party and went straight to the middle of the dance floor where I believed I belonged given my dancing ability. I didn’t pay attention to the way other people were dancing, until an R. Kelly song came on, (I think it was, “It Seems Like You’re Ready), and one of the boys from my high school came up behind me, spun me around and tried to grind on me. I pushed him away and put my hands on his shoulders so that we were still dancing together but not touching. He said to me “That’s not how you dance, come on now.” I looked around and noticed that every couple dancing looked like they were simulating some sort of sexual experience. I turned to him and said, “Well, I don’t wanna dance then.” He muttered something about me being stuck up.

I didn’t care.

I would only grind on my man!!

As I’ve gotten older, the expectation that a man should be able to rub his crotch and hands up against my body just because I’m moving to the beat of a song and every other girl is doing it has gotten stronger. I can’t even the count the number of men who have approached me at a party and attempted to molest me. I use the term “molest” because I was told in elementary sexual education that molestation happens when a stranger touches you inappropriately. And I believe that every time a woman dances with a man in the club she is subjecting herself to a type of consensual molestation that is nontheless gross in my view.

I’ve never really be into the club scene and I believe this is the reason why. When I was in college I had girlfriends who also liked to dance. We’d all go to the middle of the dance floor together. But then they’d start dancing with some guys leaving me dancing happily alone. Well, as soon as I’d be alone someone would try to dance with me, taking all the fun out of an otherwise enjoyable night.

I hate that when I politely decline to dance with a man, they assume that I am rejecting them on an individual level. When, in fact, I am simply rejecting the practice of adult strangers humping on each other in public. If this same man would have stood facing me while we both did the dougie, everything would be fine…but men don’t want to dance with you unless they can put their unfamiliar hands in places only familiar hands should go.

Once I did try to dance with a man thinking, well, if all the other girls are doing it, maybe it’s not so bad. A guy moved in close behind me and put his hands on my hips as we rocked side to side. I wasn’t too disgusted at first, until he put his hand on my back and tried to push me forward as though he was “hittin’ it from the back.”

I realized then, that I don’t need to be doing what every other girl is doing. I mean other girls were wearing matching denim jackets and jeans and lining their lips with black liner and I wasn’t considering doing that. I was born an individual, and have decided to remain that way.

Nowadays when I go the club (a very rare occurrence) I stay off to the side and only dance on songs that really move me. If I had my wish I would be swag surfing and doing the Dallas boogie and the stanky leg all night. But unfortunately, I’m too afraid of being attacked. I wish I could dance with reckless abandon, not worrying about explaining my position on molestation; however, until that becomes reality I do the bulk of my dancing in my house or at Joy of Motion, the men there don’t mind keeping their hands to themselves.

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Written by JDanielle
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