Disclaimer: If you are closed-minded, see things only in black and white, and lack critical thinking, this article is probably not for you. But if you disagree, please share your thoughts with me. 

On an early Thursday, I put on the radio on my way to my mother’s house. Well, actually on my way to buy ice because we were about to visit Aruba’s National Park: Arikok. On the radio, I heard this guy mention that “vulgar dances” and “twerking” will be strictly prohibited this year at the “Zomercarnaval in Rotterdam.”

Too calm to be true

I didn’t think much of it at first. I thought it was just paraphrased news. My first reaction was, “Oh, wow, big deal, there are other more important things to worry about.” Keep in mind that I’ve been on vacation for about three weeks already, so I’m not my feisty self these days. I’m as calm and peaceful as possible, which is strange because that is a version of myself that I don’t get to see often. I’m always the one who has something to say and constantly aims to challenge the status quo, even though I might not appear so. Often I’m the “annoying” chick that most people would want to eye-roll in meetings but don’t and just simply grin or nicely disagree (but in a fake way, because we got to stay politically correct). 

Then in the car with my mom and younger cousin, I heard the same news again, but at another station. “Could this be actually true?” When I got home, and since I followed a few pages, mainly of Rotterdam news, I got bombarded with articles. I read a few, and then it hit me. My first thought, and maybe you will think I’m joking, is, “Who came up with this law? Wie komt met die ley? Because their audacity is unmeasurable.”

Pluma, stenchi, rum

I’m not a big “Carnavalista” myself, and I’ve only been to “Zomercarnaval” once in 2013. It’s not like our big, colorful, shiny Carnaval in Aruba, but who am I kidding? When you’re kilometers away, your heart will dance with pride, and you will feel connected to thousands of fellow Caribbeans. Yes, even the ones you might give a sour face to when you’re on the tram or on your way home. Because if there is one thing that connects the Caribbean, it’s: food, drinks (not only talking about Tropical or Fria), and parties with lots of dance.

I may not like the drinking part, but I know it’s inculcated in the Caribbean culture. You can’t just take away things you disagree with from people just because you don’t like them. That’s not how the world works; you’ll just end up making people angry. I always thought of people drinking every weekend (or daily) as individuals coping with stress or trauma. Still, you don’t see me around scolding people around Hamaka for the way they chose to deal with their issues (and yes, I’m well aware that some people just drink for recreational purposes, I just think alcohol tastes bad most times, so my coping strategy is procrastination (avoidant coping)?).

Vulgar?

Now, what the hell is “vulgar dancing?” Did I ever mention that I lived in Curaçao for four months? I went to uni but didn’t like it. I lived on campus, which I did like. The students, greasy food, the ambiance, culture, etc. There were local students, regional (Caribbean), and international (primarily Dutch) students. It wasn’t unusual that on Friday nights, music was booming in the halls of the boys’ wing (where most parties took place). One night I decided to join when a friend insisted. I wasn’t (and am still not) into parties.

Once we were on the second floor, we could see people dancing. At one point, it looked like they were having sex with their clothes on (they were dry-humping). To me, this was a culture shock. I’ve never seen anybody dance like that, not even in those sexy Reggeaton video clips that I used to watch on HTV’s Hurbano. They were all against each other, and they went all the way to the floor. Even back then, even though it shocked me, I was like, “I guess this is how they danced in other islands of the Caribbean.”

When you Google the word “vulgar,” you’ll find that it’s something or someone that lacks sophistication or good taste. It also means making explicit or offensive references to sex or bodily functions. When you search for “vulgar dance,” you’ll find that it signifies a morally unclean indecent or sexually provocative style of dancing. I’ve always had an issue with the word provocative. And if you ask me, I think those definitions are one of the hundreds of ways people search to put blame and accountability on people who’ve experienced (sexual) abuse and harassment.

Quiere’ perreo, no balada

When someone says, “Oh, but they were provoking me,” they mean to say that someone intentionally tried to arouse them with sexual desire or interest. Is it so? Because I see it this way. Shaking my booty to some soca, dancehall, or dem bow rhythm means that I’m feeling the music; I’m feeling myself. If someone else gets provoked, it’s their problem. It’s their thoughts, not mine. And if one acts on those thoughts, it’s their actions, not mine. Do you see where I’m heading here? For a long time, we’ve placed the blame on the time, place, lights, and length of the skirt, thus the victim. I wish I could see more accountability and responsibility being put on perpetrators, don’t you think? 

There’s this amazing thing called consent

“But Jammita, why do women dance to “vulgar” songs that “sexualize” them? These songs are exploiting women!” Well, newsflash, women shouldn’t get less respect because of the music they listen to and dance to. Ever heard of consent? It’s bizarre if you think otherwise.

I always say this in my lectures: a person could be roaming around naked, and that doesn’t give anybody the right to treat them with less respect, let alone touch them. Because if you think that if someone wears clothes that will cover all their flesh and dance only to waltzes, nobody will sexualize them, think again; everything can and will be sexualized at one point. Not just a girl wearing a cute top with a bit of underboob because she thought it was cute, not because she’s trying to seduce and provoke you. Women don’t always dress for other people; we dress for ourselves most often. We want to feel, because it was taken away from us for a long time, that we have ownership of our own bodies; we are in charge!

The socio-cultural Impact of Dance

The earliest historical records of the origins of dancing trace back 8000 years BC through cave paintings in India. A society’s culture is known throughout its dance. In ancient cultures, dance and religion went hand in hand. Dance was standard in some rites and ceremonies. Myths and traditions were passed from one generation to the other. Theatrical displays of colors and bold moves are part of cultural dances. At the same time, in some cultures, women moved more slowly, stiff-like, and did humble movements that symbolized femininity (Eze, 2021). Because in the ideal world of patriarchs, women are to be gentle, modest, and quiet (but they’ll still search “wild girls” on the Hub when nobody’s watching, am I right?)

The rhythmic flow of the body means different things to people and is strictly culturally and contextually bonded. Dance is a tool of cultural and self-expression. I’ve never been to a party without music. Well, I have, and it wasn’t a party; you will find dancing at every celebration. The versatility of dance makes it almost impossible to be pinned down and act as a cultural identity.

Dance expands social and cultural interaction and provides a sense of belonging, community well-being, and togetherness. And let me tell you, when you’re kilometers away from your home, you’ll need this “community glue” that will pick you up and put all your broken pieces back together, sure the edges will be uneven, but this tremendous bonding is what will get you through it. That’s how dancing empowers collective groups and sparks positive social change. It functions as this common language that brings people together, and sometimes you may not even understand each other and may disagree with one another on different stances, pero bailando se entiende. 

Plus, dancing is a simple way to express ourselves, have fun, exercise, and blow off steam, and it lets us show a more confident version of ourselves to others (well, that last one really depends).

Palabra final

Awo, ami no sa ken e organisacion ta, pero… nan tin durf. Especialmente mirando e historia cu Hulanda tin cu nos islanan (papiando pa islanan ABC y SSS). E ironia ta cu nan ta pidi despensa, promove dunamento di fondo pa proyectonan relata na esclavitud pa despues e “organisatie” sali cu e cos aki? Awo mi ta compronde cu e decision di e “organisatie” no ta representa, ni refleha ful Hulanda y/of otro organisacionnan y iniciativanan, pero con nan por a pensa cu un desicion asina lo wordo tuma.

Con nan por a tribi di purba kita un tiki di e cos mas cerca cu nos hendenan tin aya na tera friu di nan pais, nan cas? Boso por a imagina mi cara di felicidad ora mi a wak cu e participantenan a haci lo contrario di e “beleid” straño ey cu nan kier a bin cu ne e aña aki. Borchinan di manifiesto a demostra cu mi hendenan lo sigui emancipa y core cu actitud y accionnan deriva di tempo di colonialismo. 

Oh, and this whole thing also got me thinking about pissed adults (talking about us) who had a taste of what it means to have a part of their identity taken of them. Now you know what the children, especially girls, feel when you scold and police them about their clothing choices and mess with their bodily autonomy. You can go ahead and call me dramatic now.