Have you ever been asked, “What kind of dancing do you do?” and struggled to explain your passion? That’s how it started for me when my grandmother inquired about my hobby. “Swing,” I replied, attempting to elaborate, “Like Lindy Hop, or the Charleston.” Her surprising response, “Oh, I used to do those,” highlighted just how unexpected my journey into the world of Lindy Hopping Dance had been. Just a year prior, the idea of me embracing swing dancing, let alone Lindy Hop, would have been laughable. I was the epitome of the high school wallflower, arms crossed, observing from the sidelines, completely detached from the dance floor frenzy. The mere thought of swaying to music for a free iPod was enough to make me cringe.
This aversion to dancing began to shift when I arrived at Grinnell College. They had a “Grinnell Swing Society,” which sounded intriguing. I attended a meeting, tentatively tried some steps, immediately felt self-conscious, and promptly retreated. Public embarrassment was a formidable foe.
However, the following year, a promise to myself changed everything. I needed to push my boundaries, and conquering my fear of looking foolish in public seemed like a significant personal challenge. I committed to attending every single class, and while I still felt awkward, something unexpected happened: I started having fun. Embracing the initial clumsiness was the gateway to an unforeseen passion.
And just like that, I was hooked. Lindy hopping dance had become an exhilarating addiction, and Grinnell College was the unwitting enabler.
But let’s rewind slightly. The Swing Society leaders frequently encouraged members to participate in swing exchanges. These events offered the chance to travel, explore new places, and, most importantly, dance with different people. Each location, they claimed, had its own distinct swing dance flavor. Initially skeptical, I thought, “Swing is swing, right? How many variations can there be?”
Fueled by my burgeoning Lindy hop obsession, I ventured to my first swing exchange. I was instantly proven wrong. While the fundamental essence of swing dance remained, dancers from other scenes incorporated moves I had never encountered. “Wait, show me that again!” became a common phrase. I’d learn these new steps, share them with my Grinnell dance friends, and we’d return to campus armed with fresh, exciting moves.
This is the beautiful, organic way you truly learn Lindy hopping dance. By immersing yourself in different dance communities, you absorb their unique styles and expand your repertoire.
And the incredible bonus? You forge countless new friendships along the way.
Returning home to Madison for the summer, my desire to dance remained strong. Despite Madison’s proximity to Grinnell, I discovered yet another layer of swing dance nuances and new moves. By summer’s end, my personal style had evolved into a blend of Grinnell and Madison influences – a “Grinadison Swing,” if you will. Then, in August, I embarked on a semester abroad in London, the birthplace of swing dance in many respects.
London was a revelation. Travel inevitably exposes you to cultural differences, from food and fashion to even advertising styles. Arriving in a city with such a rich swing dance history, the most striking difference, naturally, was their dance style. “Behind the back?” A move I’d never seen before. And the prevalence of aerials! Initially daunting, they were undeniably captivating. “Okay,” I thought, “I can definitely learn these.”
The Grinnell Swing Girl was transforming into the Grinnell-Madison-London Swing Girl… the “Grinadon Swing Girl.”
While swing dancing originated in the United States during the Jazz Age, particularly with the Lindy Hop in Harlem, it has since blossomed into a global phenomenon. Every new place I visit, every new dance community I encounter, brings fresh moves and new friends. What began in a small Iowa town opened up an entire Aladdin’s cave of cultural exploration, a worldwide community accessible through the vibrant language of Lindy hopping dance. It’s truly something special.
