The Confusing Meaning of "Open" Level Contests

Here's a thought experiment: A person is looking through the list of competitions at their favorite swing dance event and they decide to enter the "open" level contest of the levels available to them. The contest is described as being "open to all dancers." The person entering the open-level contest is most likely to be which of the following? 

1. an amateur dancer
2. an advanced, all-star, or pro dancer
3. information is not sufficient to answer

For many competitions, the answer is C. We can't tell from the information given whether the open contest at this event is the lower or higher level of competition—so we don't know whether that contest is a good fit for the person's skills. We need, at least, to know the names and descriptions of the other contest level(s) at the event to understand what "open" means in this question. We may also need to have other tacit knowledge of how the contest levels really operate—information that is not in the descriptions at all but has to be inferred or told to you. Which is a problem.

The Two Uses

But first, so we're all on the same page, here are the two uses of "open." At some events, “open” means “open to dancers of all levels, including both amateurs and professionals.” The comparison level is amateur (lower, in that it is available only to amateurs). In this case, the open level is the highest level of the levels available to choose from. (Invitational doesn't count because the organizers choose you; you can't choose it.) ABW and CalBal both use this model.

In contrast, sometimes the contest is labeled "open" and the description says "open to dancers of all levels"... but the comparison levels are advanced, all-star, and pro/invitational. In this case, the open level is the lowest level. ILHC and Snowball both use this model. 

So you can’t count on “open” always being open to all; “open” has to be understood in context of the other competition levels.

Is It a Problem to Have Two Uses of "Open" in the Swing Community? 

I do not think it is in and of itself a problem to have two meanings of "open" at use in the community. Plenty of words have multiple meanings. Sometimes the meanings of words are even contradictory. (Any person who read Amelia Bedelia may now recall the time Amelia "dusted" the furniture by throwing dusting powder on it ... as well as basically anything else Amelia ever did).

As long as you clearly and concisely define what you mean by "open" in the sentence the potential competitor is currently reading, you'll be fine. 

The problem is that many contest descriptions fall short of this benchmark, which leads to confusion and other potential negative effects. Both types of contest use the description "open to all dancers" or "open to all levels" but that's not accurate or specific enough right there in that sentence.

Open = Highest

When open = highest, the pool of dancers is conceptualized like this: Amateur dancers are defined as a subset of all dancers, and the contest is open to all dancers, including both pros and amateurs.

However, when open = highest, the open contest description usually does not compare the levels explicitly enough. I've stood next to dancers in an open = highest contest who were mortified to find themselves standing next to me, let alone next to their professional teachers. These people felt way in over their heads. Some of them were embarrassed. They expected the open = lowest model.

A small tweak to language might help. For open = highest, instead of saying "all dancers may compete in the open contest," be more specific and draw the right comparison. Say "All dancers may compete in the open contest, which typically contains a mix of intermediate, advanced, masters, and professional dancers. Dancers who wish to compete against only other amateur dancers and who meet the definition of an amateur [which organizers should also define] should enter the amateur contest."

Likewise, the amateur contest description could say, "Only amateur dancers [as organizers define this] are allowed to enter the amateur contest. Amateur dancers may also enter the open contest, which typically contains a mix of dancers of all skill levels, including masters and professional."

Open = Lowest

When open = lowest, the pool of dancers is conceptualized like this: Dancers are defined as discrete subsets by level. Levels do not overlap in a meaningful or intentional way. 

However, when open = lowest, the open contest description almost never (in my experience) accurately describes the pool of actual entrants. The description usually says "open to all levels," but that's not actually true. A better description for when open = lowest, is “all dancers who do not otherwise qualify for the advanced, all-star, and/or invitational levels may enter the open contest; dancers who qualify for advanced, all-star and/or invitational should compete at the appropriate level.”

With that description, I know before I sign up whether I can expect to be dancing next to my teachers. The description helps newer competitors especially avoid unnecessary confusion and invites them into a system where they know they will be competing against only other people of their same skill level.

What to Do

As long as you clearly define what you mean and do in practice, people will figure out what to sign up for and have a better time doing it.

Any of the following solutions would be fine with me as an event attendee, competitor, and language enthusiast. 

1. Contest organizers clarify what is meant by “open,” for example, as described in this post. Explain exactly who will be allowed to enter this contest right there in the contest description. Then people do not need to read between the lines. 
2. Organizers reserve the term “open” for contests without levels. For example, an event with only one competition might call it Open Couples to emphasize the contest is open to all and you enter as a couple. Upon cursory investigation, attendees see there is only one level, so the meaning of “open” is obvious because there is no comparison.
3. Events that use levels in contests choose names that are logically parallel and don’t require contextualized inference of meaning. Examples are novice, amateur, advanced, all-star, pro/invitational.

What Not to Do

Do not use "open" as a verb, as in "the amateur contest is open to amateur dancers, and the open contest is open to all dancers." Just rewrite the sentence. There are already two meanings of "open" in the broader community that using "open" as a verb adds an unnecessary extra layer.

I do not think we need to standardize the language across all swing events (unless everyone agrees this is necessary, which I don't think is the case at this point in time). The overlapping levels approach and the discrete levels approach are both valid ways to structure a contest. They have different pluses and minuses and create different experiences for competitors. Diversity has merit.  

For example, when the contest term "Jack & Jill" went out of use in the swing community, many terms sprung up in its wake, including mixed couples, mix and match, and luck of the draw.  But because the descriptions for these contests say things like "people sign up individually and are paired with a random partner," there is no confusion for each specific case. The description in front of you tells you what you are getting into. 

Simple amendments to language for the meaning of "open" will help.

Why This Matters (to Me)

Competitors deserve clear definitions of terms.

Everyone should be able to make the right decision about putting themselves out there in a competition. They should feel like they were treated fairly and had a good time for any money and effort they spent. They should understand what they're looking at without needing someone in the know to explain it to them or having to read between the lines.

Although it's possible to figure out what's going on,  my experience tells me at least some people don’t understand until it’s too late to change their decision.

The solution is not to make people do mental gymnastics. That’s a deterrent to new and potential competitors—which is bad for the health of our scene. Clearer and more precise language is an easy and effective solution. It harms no one to be more clear. That's why I think we should at least try to do better.

Partager Ses Impressions: When to Give Feedback Flowchart, Version Française

A reader of my blog contacted me to translate my When to Give Feedback flowchart into French. Merci, Franck Wcs!

Le voilà! Voici l’organigramme pour savoir quand partager ses impression en danse, en français. Merci de travailler avec moi pour faire cela.



Vous pouvez télécharger l'organigramme pour l'utiliser dans vos propres cours et danses.

When to Give Dance Feedback: A Flowchart

As a teacher and student of partner dance—and a lover of flowcharts—I am intimately aware of the complexities of giving and receiving feedback. Many dancers are unaware (or neglectful) of the appropriate etiquette. Typically people are too quick to offer unsolicited feedback or too quick to assume that others will want their feedback. People are also often too slow to ask for the actual feedback they would like as well as reticent to speak up when they are in physical or psychological discomfort or pain.

So, I've crafted this flowchart about when to give dance feedback. (On the radar for the future is a chart about how to give feedback, which is another kettle of fish.) My hope is that it will help empower dancers to ask for feedback when they want it, direct the ensuing conversation toward their interests, and speak up for themselves in uncomfortable situations. I also hope that it will help dancers realize that others do not necessarily want their feedback and that not all settings are appropriate for giving feedback. I want dancers—nay, all people—to experience more personal agency in getting their needs met and respected by others.

Note from 4/9/19: In a discussion with a reader, another important consideration emerged: If someone requests your feedback, you should provide it only if you are willing and comfortable to do so. Just because a person asked for feedback (or met/didn't meet other criteria in the chart) does not mean that you are obligated to give feedback. The consent of both parties is essential. 

If you found this chart helpful, please feel free to download this chart for use in your own classes or dances.

On the Meaning of Competition Scores

I've recently had the opportunity to judge competitions at a number of swing dance events, including All Balboa Weekend, Balast Off, and the International Lindy Hop Championships. That means I've had to make some tough decisions regarding some amazing dancing, and I've also seen the impact that my scores have had on the competitors. I love judging competitions because it gives me an opportunity to (a) participate without the stress of making finals, (b) practice understanding and implementing my own values, and (c) share my opinions with my community about in which direction our dance ship should sail. I've heard many people respond for better and worse to the scores they received (not necessarily from me), so I'd like to  share some insights into what my competition scores mean. (Insert here a disclaimer that these are my opinions and other judges may [and probably do] feel differently.)

On Prelims

In prelims, judges are given a certain number of "yes" votes and a certain number of "maybe" or "alternate" votes by the contest organizer. So if you get a "yes" or a "maybe" from me as a judge in prelims, it means...

• When I was scanning the room looking for standout dancers, I noticed your dancing.
• Your technique, timing, and teamwork stood out in comparison with the other dancers'.
• On the basis of what I saw in prelims, I believe I can trust you to perform for the audience in finals.

If you didn't get a mark from me in prelims, it might mean that your technique, timing, or teamwork was not as good as the other competitors' or that I don't think your dancing is quite ready for an audience to sit and watch you. 

But there are other much more mundane reasons why you might not get a mark in prelims: 

• A crowded floor (such as with big heats) made it challenging to see everyone for a sufficient amount of time.
• I did see you, but not at the right time.
• An unusually large number of competitors entered the contest, meaning the number of dancers who get a callback is small. For example, in a prelim with 80 contestants, I may get only 12 yesses and 5 maybes.
• Many dancers are similar and I am forced to choose and I cannot choose everyone I liked.

On Finals 

In finals, judges must rank the dancers. Top placements mean much more than low placements. A high placement means...

• I enjoyed your dancing.
• You had great technique, timing, and teamwork (or at least these 3Ts were better than the alternatives).
• You went above and beyond the 3Ts with your level of difficulty or risk, performance quality, creativity, musicality, and individual and/or partnership voice. 
• Your dancing fit the parameters of the contest (e.g., in a Balboa contest, you are dancing Balboa...whatever that means to the individual judge!)
• I would show your dance to another person and say "that's great Balboa" or "that's great Lindy Hop." 

However, a low placement does not mean that I didn't enjoy your dance. It might mean...

• Your dance had technical or structural problems that other dances did not have or did not have to the same degree. Technical and/or structure problems are not moral failings. 
• Your dancing did not fit the parameters of the contest (e.g., dancing Boogie Woogie in a Lindy Hop contest, dancing Balboa too much like it's Lindy Hop). (This is also not a moral failing.)

Or a low placement might mean I didn't really like that particular piece of dancing because it wasn't in alignment with my values. There's no rule that everyone has to like everything. And if I didn't like a particular dance in a particular contest, that doesn't mean I dislike all your dancing all the time or that you are a bad person or a bad dancer. My opinion is not an indication of a moral failing on your part.

Rocks and Hard Places

The nature of a contest means that I am forced to choose. I often like different dances for different reasons, and my job is to choose which value(s) to prioritize when making my rankings. The values being prioritized differ depending on the judge and can even vary within the same judge depending on the exact dances within a particular contest. For example, when I am judging, I value partnering skills above, say, level of difficulty or risk. If all the competitors demonstrate great partnering, then the dancers who took more risks or had a higher degree of difficulty will probably place higher than dancers with less difficult or risky dances. However, it is challenging to weigh a dance with lots of difficulty and risk but less than optimal partnering against a dance with great partnering that was easy and kind of dull...how the placements sort out will depend on the particular dances in question. 

Moreover, it's important to remember (or realize!) that contest placements are made on an ordinal scale—they are in order, but the distinctions between 1st, 2nd, 3rd places and so forth cannot be meaningfully quantified. All of the dances might have been great, or there might have been one (or more) dances light years better than others. Sometimes I want to give all the dances third place. Nevertheless, as a judge I have been forced to choose to put the dances in order. The dances might have been so different than it's barely meaningful to put them in order at all, and yet into order they must go. 

Caveats and Provisos 

Judges give the scores in a contest, but should you trust their opinions? To a degree, yes. A good judge is a person with experience and expertise in the dance style of the contest. A good judge is able to know their own values and explain them to others. A good judge can critically evaluate others' dancing just by watching in a short amount of time and come to conclusions on the basis of their values and the evidence. A good judge is not afraid to make the decision they think is best on the basis of the dancing in that contest—not because of personal friendships, nepotism, or popular opinions. 

At the same time, judges are only human. We are not omniscient or infallible. Every time I judge, I wonder, "what will people think of my choices?" And then I try to make the best decisions I can anyway. We are doing our best—just like you are as a competitor—and once again, the nature of the contest format itself means that we are forced to choose. Even if we do not choose you, that does not mean that we do not like your dancing or value your contributions. 

Likewise, contests in and of themselves speak only to one aspect of dancing. A contest dance can't tell you whether a person is fun to dance with (although it might give you an idea). It can't tell you whether a person is kind, or thoughtful, or a good (dance) listener. Although swing dance contests have been around as long as swing dancing itself, social dancing, not contests, is the essence of dancing. Contests are meant to be fun. Although they do have influence over trends in the community and who is hired to teach or perform, they are not the ultimate arbiter of what is good and bad in swing. Do not ascribe more worth to them than they are due. Remember that the heart of the dance is on the social floor.

Making Meaning

So say that you understand that contests are not the be-all and end-all of dancing, but you still want to understand why you got a particular score. To make meaning of a judge's score, the best thing to do is to consider the result in the context of the judge's values. If you don't know that judge's values, ask them! Ask me! (This conversation is especially fun in person.) Get to know judges as people (I promise, we are people too). If you are an organizer, ensure you know the values of the people you ask to judge contests and that they know their own values too. Perhaps you discover that the judge's values do not match your own—that's okay! There is no rule that we must all agree about everything.  

Because even more important than the values of the judge are your own values and the values of the people you trust—and the judges of a particular contest may or may not be included in that list of "people you trust." (Remember, organizers are people too, and there may be constraints of which you are unaware, for example, about who is available to judge.) Although a good judge has credentials worth respecting, ultimately your own opinion matters the most, because your dancing is personal. It is yours to enjoy and care for over the years. 

Win or lose, the bottom line is this: Don't put your self-worth in the hands of other people, including competition judges. If you win, it feels great but you may lose the opportunity to take chances or make changes for fear of not winning anymore. If you lose, you may feel terrible about yourself, become discouraged, and even quit dancing. Instead, work to understand your own values and bring your dancing into alignment with them. Competitions are a fun way to perform for the community, but the meaning you make of them is up to you, and they are only a piece of the swing community experience. 

Dance your dance like no one is watching—even when someone is actually watching. 

Rediscover the Value of Friend-Dates

When's the last time you went on a date with a friend? Not a date-date, but a friend-date. Whether you're in a committed relationship or not, the friend-date is a wonderful thing to keep in your life. As we enter the end of winter (at least in the northern hemisphere), many of us are stuck inside because of cold weather with no holidays to look forward to. It's easy to go stir crazy. Seasonal affective disorder is real. Enter the friend-date.

The friend-date can take place in the real world or online via Skype, FaceTime, Google Hangouts, or any number of video chat services. Online is great because you can participate from anywhere and it doesn't have to cost anything. It can be hard to take that first step and reach out to people, especially if they are people you don't know well, but think about how you would feel if one of your friends reached out to you—excited, right? That is precisely how your friends will feel if you reach out. In an age where people are afraid of talking on the phone (myself included), sometimes it ends up that everyone is waiting for everyone else to make the first move, which means no one ever moves. We all sit at home wishing our lives were more interesting and full and convinced that we're missing out. Pretty much everyone feels the same way. Here's your chance to do something doable about it.

Of course you can do anything you want on a friend-date, including just talk, but I would love to hear some suggestions for online friend activities from you all. Many of you love games; what games work well online for a low investment of time and equipment? A few years ago a group of my friends loved playing Keep Talking and Nobody Explodes via Skype, so I can recommend that. Other ideas? Thanks all!

How to Listen Better

At some point I'm sure you've heard, or probably said, the words "you're not listening to me!"

Lately I've been thinking a lot about listening—on the bus home from work recently I witnessed a spectacularly bad interaction in which two strangers argued over whether racism existed in the United States, and it didn't end well because one of the people was not listening. I've also do a fair share of listening myself among my friend groups (I did go to counseling school for my master's degree, after all) and have been told it's been helpful. And I've gone to therapy and been listened to and seen the power of that.

So, here are some of my thoughts on how to listen better:

1. Don't argue with the other person's reality. 

When someone is telling you their story, you must remember it is their story, not yours. If you want to listen better, you have to accept that for this person, their version of events is the true version of events for them—even if you think their story is illogical or ridiculous or infuriating, even if the person has mental health problems that means they see the world through sad, anxious, hateful, or paranoid glasses.

2. Remember that acknowledgment does not equal agreement.

Acknowledging another person's reality through listening is different from endorsing it as objective truth (or as your own same subjective truth). For example, someone might tell you about how they were treated so unfairly by so-and-so for absolutely no reason, but you actually can think of several valid and rather unwholesome reasons why that person was treated as they were. Your reaction might be to argue with the other person or to dismiss their feelings as overblown or unimportant or pale in comparison to their own transgressions.

However, all of these reactions amount to you saying "your story isn't true; it doesn't matter; that's not how it really happened." If the person senses that reaction, they will feel like you aren't listening to them—because you aren't. Listening requires that you acknowledge that this person's story is true for them, but it doesn't require that you agree with the person's feelings, interpretations of events, or actions. However, if you want to have any shot of the other person listening to your interpretation of events, you must first do them the service of listening to their version—a two-way street.

3. Use mindfulness to moderate your personal reactions.

It is next to impossible to listen to someone else if the only person you are thinking about is yourself. And yet, it is also next to impossible to avoid connecting another person's story to your own story. If someone tells you about the pain they have experienced, you think of your own pain and how it was worse or better. If someone tells you about their abhorrent (to you) views, you think of all the reasons why you believe those views are wrong and merit that person being locked away for a long time, or at least banned from the internet. It's natural to evaluate what someone says in your own frame of reference, but you don't have to act on those evaluations right away. Listening requires that you wait a moment.

When dealing with intrusive personal reactions in a listening context, I recommend a mindful approach. Acknowledge and accept that you are feeling a reaction to the other person's story but not to let it pull you off course from listening to the other person for as long as you intend to be listening to them.

4. Listening begets listening. 

Once someone has had a chance to tell their story, they are more likely to listen to your story. If your story contradicts theirs, the door is open for you to change the person's perspective. Once you have listened, you can then say, "I hear you saying X, but I disagree about the interpretation or action you took as a result of that because of Y reasons." In all likelihood the other person will not be immediately swayed, which will require you to listen to their follow-up rationale if you want to have your rejoinder. At any point the system might break down, particularly if the other person is not a good listener themselves, but you will have tried your best.

5. You don't have to listen if you don't want to. 

Sure this whole post is about listening, but let's remember there is no law of the universe that says you have to listen all the time, or listen to everyone. Maybe the person speaking isn't worth your time. Maybe you're not in a healthy place to listen. Maybe the venue in which someone is speaking isn't conducive to effective listening (cough, most of the internet), and so you choose to participate or not participate in a discussion in other ways.

Listening is a choice. But if you do choose to listen, I think it's worth doing well.

It's Not You, It's Me

Recent discussions in the swing dance community have centered upon how we can be more inclusive of people of diverse gender identities and sexualities. In particular, the discussion has focused on whether/how to rename the swing dance competition style that's usually called a Jack & Jill to something that doesn't have gendered names in it (here is a summary of the issue if you're not familiar with the issue; reader discretion advised for reading the comments depending on how much you enjoy watching people fight on the internet).

But my post isn't about whether/how to rename a swing dance contest.

It's about a related issue: Taking things personally. It's about the importance of remembering that your reaction to a charged statement—no matter whether you're angry, impassioned, ambivalent, motivated, apathetic, incredulous, insulted, excited, or something else—that your reaction is about you. Although you may think you are reacting to the other person's statements, you're not. And they're not reacting to you either; they're reacting to themselves. Once you examine your reactions in the context of your own experience rather than blaming other people or situations for them, you have a chance to find more peace and equilibrium.

This advice is especially useful if you are not someone who has a personal (as in personal identity) stake in the game. If you are from a majority group and find yourself having a strong negative reaction, examine why. Look inward; why are you so against changing something that negatively impacts others? 

And if you are among the marginalized groups, the agreement to not take things personally can help guard against internalizing negativity from other people who are telling you that you are wrong or bad for just trying to be yourself in public. It is a terrible misuse of the agreement to say "don't take it so personally" and to mean "please dismiss/change/hide your personal identity because I don't like it or it is against my beliefs." So if you are on the receiving end of such a condescending and dismissive statement, please don't buy it. Because perhaps you are questioning or unsure of your personal identity—if you did take their words to heart (this is part of what the agreement means by "taking things personally"), it might cause you long-lasting emotional pain and suffering, which would be antithetical to the goal of supporting and uplifting ourselves and our fellow humans in all their diversity.

A Seemingly Unrelated Example

Sometimes having an example that doesn't stir you up makes the premise easier to internalize. Something happened to me recently on the playground with my son that struck me as analogous.

It started when my 2.5-year-old son caught eye of another boy's ball. Despite the fact that we had our own very serviceable ball, my son followed that 6-year-old boy around plaintively declaring, "my ball!" I told my son that sorry, it wasn't actually his ball; we had our own ball; and we needed to respect others' property, but appeals to logic seldom succeed with the toddler set.

Eventually the older boy went to go ride his scooter. Conveniently, my son also had his scooter at the park. My son chased the older boy merrily, but the older boy was not impressed. Eventually the older boy stopped near to where his mother and I were both standing.

The older boy got off his scooter and said to my son in a rude tone, "Hey now, you had better stop copying everything I do!"

My son doesn't talk much yet, and I was standing right there, so I said, "Hey, that wasn't very nice...."

The other boy's mother interjected to say, "Excuse me! I can speak to my own child about his behavior!" And she turned her back on me to tell her son not to be so rude.

As I stood there duly chastised, I had the following thoughts:

• I was only trying to help! Why is she mad at me for wanting to help?
• The boy was being rude. Why was she treating me like I had done something wrong? 
• What right does this woman have to reprimand another adult? 
• I feel embarrassed that she yelled at me in public. 
• Doesn't parenting take a village? What's wrong with me saying something when a kid misbehaves, especially when it's to my child who lacks the verbal skills to speak up for himself? 

And as I stood there duly chastised, I also conjured the following counterpoints: 

• She is also trying to help by speaking to her son herself. She knows him; I don't.
• Doesn't she have the right to parent her own child just like I do? 
• Although she was short with me, maybe she has her reasons. She doesn't know whether I would have said something helpful. 
• It's okay to be embarrassed; sometimes people make mistakes, even me. That doesn't mean I'm a bad person. 
• Why do I have to be the one to say something to this kid I don't know when his own mother is literally standing right there? 

After the other mom was done talking to her son, I approached her and said, "I just wanted to say I didn't mean to overstep my bounds before. Thank you for telling me what you needed with your son." 

She visibly relaxed and started to apologize to me. She told me how many bad interactions she had had with other parents doing a poor job of reprimanding her children (who included two older kids, ages 11 and 14). 

"Don't worry," I said, "I'm not offended in the least that you said something. And actually your son did pretty good putting up with my son chasing him around for as long as he did. I'm sorry to hear you have had so many interactions with other parents doing a bad job of telling your kid what to do," I replied. "My son's only 2.5 and luckily that hasn't happened to me yet." 

We continued to talk and it turned out our views on kids "behaving badly" were very compatible. We've both taken child development classes, enough to know that it's developmentally appropriate and expected for them to copy each other when they're 2.5 and to defend their independence when they're 6. Kids are learning, and it's up to parents to help them learn; we don't need to blame parents for kids' behavior. The conversation ended on a positive note. 

It Was All About Me (and Her)

This is all to say: My reactions to this woman telling me to quit talking to her kid about his rude behavior toward my son were about me. 

• My experiences with talking to other people's children in the past have all been positive or neutral, so of course I expected it to be okay this time and was taken aback when it wasn't. 
• My response to feel upset and embarrassed at her remark was also about me, evidence that there are yet vestiges of perfectionism in me—by which I mean that when she stopped me from doing what I thought was the right thing to do it felt like she was telling me I was a bad person or a bad parent, and I didn't like that. 

And likewise, this woman's reaction to me was about her. 

• She had 14 years of experience as a parent during which numerous (likely well-intentioned) other adults had done a poor job of correcting her children's behavior, and she wanted to proactively defend her kid from that. 
• She also knows how many people blame the parents for their children's behavior, even when the behavior is developmentally appropriate. My interjection might have meant that I was saying she wasn't doing a good job as a parent. No wonder she'd acquired a steely, quick intervention to stop potential attacks and show her skills.  

For both of us, the situation was about trying to take care of our kids and raise them to be kind to each other. But I don't think we would have found our common ground unless I'd made the overture to apologize—and I wouldn't have had the emotional strength to apologize unless I understood not to take her behavior personally. 

Precisely because I didn't take her behavior personally, I was able to choose my next action rather than be forced by emotion. If I had let my hand be forced, I would have felt hurt, embarrassed, and offended at a single sentence from a stranger that questioned my parenting and carried that around with me into future interactions. Once I realized her behavior wasn't about me, I could let it go. I chose to apologize, because I wanted to make a connection with her—but I could have just said nothing and left, if that was what I needed in the moment. 

I Swear This Is Related to Your Life Even If You Don't Have Kids

So when you encounter a charged situation of your own—like, say, the latest discussion in the swing community over inclusive nomenclature—and you feel yourself get angry, scared, embarrassed, dismissive, mean-spirited, hurt, ashamed, or something else at what other people are saying, take a second to consider where that emotion is coming from. (Spoiler: The call is coming from inside the house!) 

This does not mean it's wrong to feel angry, scared, embarrassed, dismissive, mean-spirited, hurt, ashamed, or something else; all emotions are valid. However, in my experience, more constructive behavior and greater levels of personal sanity tend to emerge when we understand why we feel the way we do, rather than just reacting from a gut level. It is very hard to hear someone else's perspective when your reactions to yourself are so much louder. If you can separate your noise from the actions of other people, then you have a better chance of understanding someone else's perspective.

To all my friends on every side of any controversy, I hope that you are able to work through your relationship to yourself so that you can really hear other people. True connection is beautiful.

Going Back to the Dance

Dear Chelsea, 

So, due to a host of reasons, but let's just mainly chalk it up to "health" and "work" and "personal," I've taken a hiatus from dancing, for what, about a year now? Yes, that sounds about right. So then, this begs the question: how to dance again? It seems like such a simple question, but it's fraught with many complex feelings. First, I've never been the "best" dancer (snort) even when at my peak. Now, after a year off, will I be hideously terrible? WHAT IF NO ONE WANTS TO DANCE WITH ME? WHAT IF I HAVE FORGOTTEN EVERYTHING? 

Second, I'm out of the habit now. How do I rebuild the habit? I don't have a partner who dances regularly, and my life shifted in that year off. I'm not as young as I was, and it's easy to get lazy, and well, the venues closer to me are waning in popularity, so that's a challenge as well.

Third, while I don't owe anyone an explanation, I've been missing from the dance floor, the internet, and the scene for about a year, with very little word, and there will be questions, most likely. How to handle? For all that I appear to be an open book, I'm often not—I'm good at deflecting, so I don't have to discuss things with everyone, but people do not like being put off. Additionally, I gained 40+ pounds, and I don't look the same. I can't very well expect to show up after disappearing for year without a trace, and not to have to answer to someone, I suppose, but the IDEA of it has kept me away more than once. What do I even say? I don't want to be the sad trombone ruining the music for everyone. And moreover, sometimes once I start talking it's word vomit everywhere and I can't stop myself. What do I do? 

Dear reader,

Let me address your concerns one by one, since you so kindly laid them out for me.

What If No One Wants to Dance With Me

Ah, the fear that no one wants to dance with you is shared by dancers everywhere of all skill levels. And yet because you used to be in the dance scene you know several truths universally acknowledged about why a person isn't dancing at any given moment:

• The lead–follow ratio is off and it is hard for dancers of the other role to have a chance to ask you because other more aggressive dancers are asking them first. 
• You are hiding in a corner far from the floor looking like you do not want to dance (e.g., nose in phone). 
• You have gained a reputation as a creepy dancer or a dancer who is so rough they hurt other dancers (or both).  

These reasons are either not personal (a numbers game, or about where you are standing) or are about gargantuan excesses of personal offence that I, from knowing you personally, know you do not begin to approach. So if you go to a dance and stand near the dance floor and no one dances with you, it's not you; it's the numbers game. 

Your friends don't care how bad your dancing is, and strangers don't know how bad your dancing is, so your fears that your bad dancing will keep people away are in your head.

What If I Have Forgotten Everything

I doubt you've forgotten everything, but if you have, they have classes for that. I also hear that those classes are a great way to meet dancers and make new friends who don't need to ask you about where you've been for the last year. There is no shame in brushing up on your skills! Or, you could take a private lesson to brush up on your own. But you knew this already.

Habits

There is a wealth of literature about how to build a habit, and I will assume that you are perfectly capable of googling "how to build a habit," so instead I'll address what I think is the real issue when you bring up habits and concerns about age, laziness, venue proximity, etc.: that you are using "I'm out of the habit" as an excuse not to go dancing. Why does dancing have to be a habit? Can't you, on any given night, decide that you want to go dancing or that you want to stay home and play video games or that you want to do any number of other things? If you want to go, go. It doesn't have to be a lifestyle choice. 

It's clear to me that, despite your fears, you miss something about dancing, whether that's the people or the activity or both. So why not look at dancing as an opportunity to reconnect with friends during which you might dance? Message a friend to see whether they will agree to show up to the same dance as you. The friend will serve as an anchor to help you feel more comfortable coming to a dance, because you won't be going back cold. Or invite a dance friend to do another activity to strengthen those bonds before you try to go back to a dance. 

For the dancing itself, set a nice low bar. Perhaps you might ask one person to dance the first time you go back. And you will have your conversation with your friend. If after that you feel uncomfortable, you can go home, and you can try again another time if you want. There are no dance police who evaluate each attendee on how much they danced and with whom, what time they went home, etc. Compared to never going dancing again, showing up, one dance, and one conversation would be quite an accomplishment! Start simple. 

Explaining Yourself

I agree that you don't owe anyone an explanation, but I disagree with your phrasing that you should have to "expect to answer to someone" because of the length of your absence and your changes in physical appearance. 

People ask questions as a way to start a conversation. People follow predictable scripts. If they have just met you, they will ask, "What's your name?" and "What do you do?" and maybe "How long have you been dancing?" If they haven't seen you in a long time, they will ask "What have you been up to?" or "Where have you been?" 

So I absolutely do think you will encounter these questions, but only because people feel compelled by social scripts to ask them. Mostly, they are trying to make you feel good by asking after you instead of rudely ignoring your long time away. They also (gasp) are probably genuinely interested in your well-being. 

Here are some thoughts on how you can answer these questions succinctly and without getting too personal for your comfort: 

• Question: "I haven't seen you out dancing in forever! Where have you been?"
• Answer: "I took some time away from dancing for health reasons and because I was really busy at work. Tonight is my first night back and I'm excited but a little nervous. What have you been up to lately?"

• Question: "Oh my god, why did you gain 40 pounds? I'm definitely not dancing with you now."
• Answer: Wait, this question is a joke. No one with a shred of social decorum would ever ask you about your weight gain. They might notice if they know you well (and the ones who don't know you won't know the difference), but they won't ask (or, if they do, brush them off and tell them its personal and to mind their own business).
• Answer part 2: Whether you talk about the weight gain is up to you. If you want to bring it up, you could say, "I took some time away from dancing for health reasons and because I was really busy at work. Tonight is my first night back and I'm excited but a little nervous, especially because I gained some weight [and I'm not sure how my body dances anymore]." Then the person will most likely make a sympathetic remark and you can say, "Well, enough about me—what have you been up to lately?"

If people ever press, all you have to say is, "I'd rather not talk about it, but thank you for asking. How are you?"

Getting Over the Hurdles

All of the reasons you identified in your letter are hurdles you're setting up for yourself because you're nervous and scared. It's alright to be nervous and scared, and there are things you can do to manage those emotions. Connect with friends ahead of time, be nice to yourself about your expectations for how often you will go out and where and how much you will dance while there, and come armed with a few sentences to answer the social script questions when they come up. You might even practice the social script questions with your friend ahead of time. 

You're not going to be a sad trombone and ruin the music for everyone. For one, it would take superhuman effort on your part to be such a sad trombone that you ruined the night of everyone at the dance venue. You'd probably have to commandeer the microphone and overthrow the DJ. You didn't mention planning a dance coup in your letter, so I can only assume you plan to interact on a human scale.

To a degree I think if you practice the social script you can prevent word vomit from running amok. However, if you find that once you start talking, you keep talking, this might just be the way you are. I guarantee that if it is the way you are, your friends already know this about you and they still like you. If you can't keep yourself from talking even though you want to, the thing you should do is to work to accept yourself and love yourself the way your friends already do. And people you are just meeting may think the word vomit is a little odd or a little much, but it will not ruin their night. You are a piece of the puzzle, just as important—and unimportant—as anyone else.   

Above all, take it one day at a time. The first time back is the hardest and then it gets better from there. I hope to see you out dancing. 

New Year's Agreements

Something about the new year inspires people. Less than a week ago many people seemed despondent at the state of the world (or, more specifically, by political prognostications and an accumulating death toll of beloved celebrities); with the dawn of 2017, optimism creeps in as it always does. I don't mind whether you're resolving to dance more, to eat better, to exercise more, to accept yourself as you are, or to finally be consistent about flossing your teeth and not just flossing them for two days before you go to the dentist in the hope the dentist won't notice (they will), or whether you eschew resolutions and trundle on as usual despite the need to buy a new calendar.

Instead, I wanted to share with you all something called The Four Agreements, which I think will help either way. The Four Agreements are principles for how to respond to the world and conduct your life, and in the last three years since I first heard about them shortly following the death of my mother, they have changed mine. The principles are thus:

1. Be impeccable with your word. 
2. Don't take anything personally. 
3. Don't make assumptions.
4. Always do your best. 

They were developed by don Miguel Ruiz, and you can read about them more fully at his website or in his book, and I will do my best to explain my experience with them here. In a nutshell, the premise is that in childhood we learn certain "rules" about the way the world works and how we are supposed to behave in it in order to receive love and attention and avoid punishment. But in most people, this striving (and failing) to live up to what other people want for you results in a continual feeling of not being good enough, which leads to negative beliefs about the self such as...

• I'm not smart.
• I'm not beautiful.
• I should be ashamed of my true wants and desires because they aren't right.
• I'm not good enough at my job/school/hobby for people to like and respect me.
• I deserve pain and suffering because deep down I am a bad person.
• I can't do any better so I had best settle for what I have now. 

There are pithy quotes about how you should always shoot for the moon because even if you miss, you'll land among the stars, etc., but I like this one from Ruiz's book for its rejection of comfortable metaphor:

To be alive is the biggest fear humans have. Death is not the biggest fear we have; our biggest fear is taking the risk to be alive — the risk to be alive and express what we really are. Just being ourself is the biggest fear of humans. We have learned to live our life trying to satisfy other people's demands. We have learned to live by other people's points of view because of the fear of not being accepted and of not being good enough for someone else. 

The thing is, these are learned beliefs. They can be changed. You can change them. You can be yourself and still be loved. And The Four Agreements are principles to help you get there. Here are my thoughts on each.

1. Be impeccable with your word.

To be impeccable with your word is to speak from a generous heart. And in so speaking, firstly and most importantly, mind how you speak to yourself. Tell yourself you're worthy. Tell yourself it's okay to be the way you are. My therapist tells me, "Your feelings aren't your problem. Your anxiety about your feelings is your problem." When she said this, I stopped and wrote it down because it's so true. You can write it down too if you want.

Once you begin to speak to yourself in this way, you begin to speak this way to and about others: That is the second part of being impeccable with your word. Even when you find other people's behavior infuriating, disgusting, and despicable (even if this person is a politician or celebrity), you will be able to speak against the infuriating, disgusting, and despicable behavior and bypass the minefield of character attacks, which tend to reinforce existing sentiment rather than change hearts. But moreover, you will find yourself much more interested in spreading the good in the world than paying heed to the bad.

2. Don't take anything personally. 

"It's not you, it's me" is a cliché but also true. The agreement to not take things personally means to know that whatever a person does is because of them and never because of you. If your loved one yells at you, it's because they are taking out their pain on you. If someone has hurt you or assaulted you or harassed you, it was never your fault. Even if someone tells you to your face that you are ugly, stupid, bad at dancing, mean, unlovable, and the cause of all the wrong in the world, they do this because of their beliefs, not because you are necessarily any of these things. Now, I am not yet such an evolved human that I don't feel upset or hurt anymore because of the actions of other people, but I have found that this agreement helps me respond with a cool head in fiery situations, so I think not taking it personally is helping. Ruiz writes,

But it is not what I am saying that is hurting you; it is that you have wounds that I touch by what I have said. 

Likewise, if someone has told you that you are beautiful, smart, an excellent dancer, nice, lovable, and the bearer of all good tidings, they do this because of their beliefs, not because you are necessarily any of these things. I'm not suggesting that it's not nice to be loved. I am saying that your worth does not come from other people; it comes from you.

3. Don't make assumptions.

People aren't mind readers. Even the people who know us well aren't mind readers—but it's easy to assume that they are, because humans spend their entire lives trying to answer the question of "why," and in the absence (or even presence) of reasons, we make assumptions. Chiefly, Ruiz writes,

We make the assumption that everyone sees life the way we do. We assume that others think the way we think, feel the way we feel, judge the way we judge, and abuse the way we abuse.... And this is why we have a fear of being ourselves around others. Because we think everyone else will judge us, victimize us, abuse us, and blame us as we do ourselves. So even before others have a chance to reject us, we have already rejected ourselves. 

It takes courage to ask questions. Do you want to go out on a date? Who will do which chores in our relationship? Would you like to dance? Can I kiss you? And in the absence (or even presence) of definitive answers, leave the question open rather than make assumptions.

4. Always do your best.

Doing your best isn't about perfection—screw perfectionism (if you have trouble with perfectionism, I highly recommend Brené Brown's book The Gifts of Imperfection). Your best is the best you can do, and no more and no less. This changes from hour to hour and day to day and year to year. Sometimes you are sick, or tired, or hungry, or your heart isn't in it, and you will mess up and speak ill of others, take things personally, and make assumptions. But that doesn't mean that you should quit trying. It also doesn't mean that you should double down and kill yourself in pursuit of happiness. (The high achievers reading this should be mindful of that last sentence.) Be kind to yourself. Over time, with practice, your best gets better.

I hope that my being inspired by the new year to share this part of my life has helped you, but either way, it's okay. (Or at least, I am trying my best for it to be okay—I am worried someone will not like this and will get upset by what I say, but then again I know that that would be about them, not me. Nevertheless, I'm still dealing with the nerves. Just so you know I'm not some sort of super-person.)

Thank you for reading this very long post, and I hope that your new year brings love and light.

Overcoming "Poor Dancer Syndrome"

Dear Chelsea,

I see this scenario time and time again in so many people, including myself: the poor dancer syndrome.

Honestly, dancing is a "rich" man's/women's hobby. Taking lessons, attending dances, private lessons, finding babysitter for my children so my husband and I can go out together, and attending events really take a toll on the wallet.

One of the reasons I rarely go out anymore is because I just can't afford to. I miss events like crazy. I miss going dancing several times a week like crazy. I have seen so many people who would be interested not get very good or completely stop dancing because they can't afford it.

These people just disappear from the scene, and it's so sad.

To be honest, sometimes it's hard to watch videos on Facebook or see my friends that I haven't seen or danced with in years post stuff and realize how much I am missing.

What is your advice for the "less rich"?

Dear friend, 

Thank you for your question. I think it is one that many people will identify with, even if their life circumstances do not entirely match your own. Money is a sensitive topic, and so I appreciate your courage in reaching out for advice in a public forum. So, you listed many ways in which you're pursuing dance that cost money: private lessons, classes, dances, events, babysitters. Let's broadly reclassify those into learning, local social dancing, and traveling to events, and then the overarching issue of childcare. 

Instead of private lessons or classes...

• You could watch class recaps online (e.g., there are several years' worth of classes from Jam Cellar in DC) and teach yourselves at home. It can be challenging to work with a partner (especially a partner who is your spouse) without a mediator/teacher there, but it can be done with lots of patience toward one another. 
• You could identify dancers whom you admire and analyze their dancing as seen online and choose what you want to emulate. Then film yourselves dancing and find the discrepancies one by one and work to improve your form until it better matches what you saw in the video. (This is how a lot of dancers worked to become better, before there were very many classes, so it's a tried-and-true method.) 
• Start a small practice group and run it in your home. Invite other dancers in your scene over to your house to practice while the kids nap or after their bedtime. If the other dancers have children, the kids could all play together. Then you will learn and enjoy socializing with other dancers. 

To go out to the local dance...

• You could do a babysitting trade. Presumably your children are asleep when the local social dances happen, so this ranks as pretty easy as far as babysitting jobs go. Reach out to other local parents and offer to trade nights where one parent stays at the other's house to make sure the kids are okay and the place doesn't burn down. If you don't know any other local parents yet, try joining a parents' group or a moms' group to meet some and then float this idea. I haven't met a parent yet who doesn't long for a date night and bemoan how the cost doubles when you pay for a sitter...I think you'd definitely find some takers. 
• Consider employing a younger babysitter who you could pay a lower rate than an experienced adult sitter, such as a teenager who lives nearby. Your local parent friends might have suggestions for trustworthy young people if you don't yet know any yourself. 
• Volunteer at the dance to defray or pay for the cost of the dance itself. This might allow you to get out with your husband at least once a month, if not more, for very little money. I know it's not the several times of week to which you were accustomed, but it is better than nothing, right?  

To go to events...

• Identify the costs and then examine how you can defray them. 
• Registration: Apply early to get the least expensive passes if you can. Again, volunteering at the event is a potential way to help with cost. Some events offer scholarships for dancers with financial need. I understand it might be difficult to think of yourself as someone who needs or is meritorious of that help, because you used to have the money to go out several times a week and to attend events, but it sounds to me like you do qualify just fine. For example, I know that Great Lakes Balboa Escape offers a scholarship for dancers with financial need. Even if nothing is expressly advertised, it doesn't hurt to reach out to organizers to let them know your situation and to ask them what they could do to help. The worst that could happen is they say nothing, right? 
• Transportation: Right off the bat I would strike any events that you can't drive to for the foreseeable future. Driving is so much less expensive than flying, so consider how far you would comfortably drive for an event and draw that radius around your home and see what events are within that area. That might be tough if the people you would want to see at an event are only at far-away events...still there might be regional events to go to, period, and you could reframe it for yourself as a way to meet new dancers... 
• Food: You have to eat whether you stay home or go on the road, so to what degree can you make your eating habits on the road similar to those you'd have at home? Can you bring groceries or prepared meals to reheat at your destination, for at least some of the meals of the day? 
• Accommodations: Can you ask to stay with local dancers rather than at a hotel? Depending on the location of the event, you might find someone who has a guest room rather than just a spare couch. If you'd be bringing the children, it'd be like camping...only indoors. Or, you might decide the benefits of a hotel really are worth it for proximity's sake and (potentially) free breakfast.
• Childcare: So either you bring the children with you or leave them at home; either way, it might get expensive. Do you have family who could watch the children for the weekend at your home? If you don't, or you'd rather bring the children regardless, consider looking for a local in-home daycare for the daytime; depending on the city and the provider, these can be pretty affordable (I was able to send my son to one in Cleveland for $30 a day, which was really inexpensive compared to DC prices). At night with the kids you will probably need to hire a babysitter if you and your husband want to go out at the same time versus trading off. Maybe you trade off for one night of the event and hire a sitter for the other. Still, childcare can be so expensive, I understand how it might mean events are off the table or only going to happen for a really special treat. 

Can You Help? 

So, these were a few ideas I had that might help you find ways to keep pursuing dance while not spending too much money. I'm sorry that I don't have more... I feel like there isn't a great answer to this question. 

Do other readers have ideas as to how two dancers with children can make attending events more affordable? Note that it's important to this reader to go out with her husband rather than going out on her own. What other free online resources are there for learning to dance? What other events offer scholarships for financial need? What other ideas do you have? 

Thank you again so much for having the courage to ask this question and for the honor of letting me try to answer it. 

Partner Edition: Dealing With Disappointment in Swing Dance Contests

Dear Chelsea, 

I read your blog post on dealing with disappointment in swing dance contests, and I was wondering if you might have some advice about how to respond when a partner *is* upset about the results of a contest. At the core of it, I want to be supportive and listen, but I'm sometimes finding that I'm stuck between saying too much and saying too little, and then I just don't know what to say, period. What if they're having unhealthy feeling statements? How do I gently guide them to processing in a more healthy way? If they are thinking about things in a healthy way, how do I respond constructively that doesn't just leave them feeling like they're left to deal with the feelings themselves? I would really appreciate any thoughts you may have about that, as either a counselor or a dancer! Thanks again for sharing the blog post. 

Signed,

Wondering How to Help

This is a tough question—with a tough solution—but the keys to dealing with an upset partner are mostly the same as those for dealing with yourself, except twice over. Here is how I look at it:

Understand Your Own Reaction First

A challenge of dealing with a partner's disappointment is that you will have a reaction to your partner's feelings on top of whatever feelings you have about your own performance. Whether you competed together or separately, it can get complicated. You shared some of your reactions already, and here are others I've encountered. You might feel . . .

• at a loss because you have no idea what to say or do.
• overwhelmed because you are also feeling disappointed yourself. 
• frustrated and helpless because this happens seemingly every time you compete and it never gets much better.
• defensive because your partner is blaming you (or seems to be blaming you) for what went wrong and you don't think that's fair. 
• embarrassed or ashamed because your partner is blaming you (or seems to be blaming you) for what went wrong and you (perhaps secretly) think they are right. 
• guilty or ashamed because you blame yourself for what went wrong, even if your partner doesn't. 
• resentful because at least your partner did better than you did (if competing separately), and why are they so ungrateful and dismissive of your own pain—or resentful because you did better than your partner and they aren't celebrating you like you had hoped. 

All of your reactions are normal and valid. But before you can help your partner, you have to help yourself. Practice all the self-generosity that you can (as described in my previous post). You need to get yourself to a place of (at least momentary) calm so that you can be an oasis for your partner to work through their pain. Trust that you will be able to work through your own troubles in due time. Remember, feelings don't last forever (theirs or yours). Be to your partner that kind friend who you would wish for yourself. 

Reflect and Validate Your Partner's Feelings

One of the most powerful things you can do for another person is listen to them. Just to be there, and to accept their feelings, and to show them that you hear them and understand them. Doing this shows that even though they are having these feelings, they are still a good person and worthy of love. It shows that you won't run. That you won't crumble. That you know that your lives and all the things in them are so much bigger than all of this, but that that doesn't mean that this moment isn't important too.

Reflecting another person's feelings is simultaneously easy and hard. It can seem unnecessary or feel fake—but trust me, when done right, it is so powerful. Here are some examples of reflective statements you can make: 

• "Wow, I can see how upset you are."
• "This is so tough for you. I'm sorry this is happening. It's not what you wanted."
• "You're so disappointed. You really wanted to do well." 
• "You're feeling embarrassed and worried that other people will think less of you because of how you performed—I'm so sorry. It's going to be okay." 

It's not parroting, but paraphrasing. 

Notice that these statements do not do any of the following: 

• Dismiss the feelings as unnecessary ("You don't need to feel bad. Why do you care so much?").
• Attempt to diminish the feelings ("You shouldn't be so upset—aren't you overreacting?"). 
• Contradict the feelings ("Why are you so upset? We did fine").
• Suggest alternative ways to feel ("You should be happy about what you did well").
• Assign blame ("You shouldn't have entered the contest if you weren't prepared to fail").
• Twist the knife ("You're going to ruin the rest of the night/weekend by sulking when you could be having fun")
• Offer solutions ("Why don't you go dance it off/have a drink/lie down/make a five-step practice plan?").
• Remark upon your own feelings in any way ("How do you think I'm feeling? I feel bad too/even worse/resentful that you're not happy for my success").

The problem with all of these statements is that they invalidate your partner's feelings. Being told that your feelings are wrong or don't matter never feels good and will often buy you a ticket to a fight. (You don't want to go to that fight. It ain't pretty.) 

Deal With Unhealthy Judgments 

Another complication to dealing with an upset partner is that your partner might be hiding their feelings inside unhealthy judgments (like how they are a poor excuse for a dancer/human being, or how you or they are to blame for the bad outcome). Again there are two steps to helping: first, to disentangle the underlying feelings from the unhealthy judgment and, second, to reflect back the feelings while refuting or ignoring the judgment. Here are some examples:

• Partner: "I am a terrible dancer. I suck."
• You: "You feel terrible, but you're not a terrible dancer. I'm sorry you're feeling so bad." 

• Partner: "If you hadn't gotten so tense, I would have been able to lead/follow better and our dancing wouldn't have looked like such crap." 
• You: "Yes, it's really frustrating to have problems with tension during a dance. I wish that hadn't happened too." (Notice that this one dodges the blame: Now is not the time to get into a discussion about who is to blame or how blaming people is unproductive and hurtful. Talk about this issue later when you're both feeling better.)

• Partner: "I can't believe how I danced. I want to crawl into a hole and die." 
• You: "I can see you're feeling really embarrassed and worried about what people will think. It's going to be okay. You're a wonderful dancer, and this one experience doesn't define you in anyone's eyes. Remember when you've seen other people have performances that they were unhappy with? You didn't think they were terrible dancers after that—you understood that sometimes this stuff happens. I'm so sorry."

Be Patient

When your partner is upset, the urge to fix it right-now can be overwhelming. But your job in the heat of the moment is to listen, not to fix it. Luckily for all of us, since feelings don't last forever, the liberal application of time will always help. Once your partner has had a chance to process, ask what would help get their mind off things. Maybe that's dancing it out, or taking a break from dancing; maybe it's taking a nap, or hanging out with friends. None of these solutions requires much from you except for you to just be: to put away your own anxieties or frustrations and just give your partner the space or companionship that they need. 

Then, later, when you are both calmer, you can process any outlying issues (and embark on that five-step practice plan if you want). At that time I encourage you to share with your partner how you are learning to be better at dealing with your own disappointment too. When I did that by writing my previous blog post, it was incredibly touching for me to see how many people could empathize with me. To know that you are not alone is central to the human experience, and this little corner of it is important too in its way, important as are all things great and small. 

Thanks for asking such a great question.

Dealing with Disappointment in Swing Dance Contests

I competed in swing dancing and didn't do as well as I wanted to. I want to feel excited and inspired and proud of myself, but instead I feel like a failure, embarrassed and disappointed. How can I feel less insecure about my dancing? How can I find validation of my dancing outside of competitions and performance?


Signed, 

Chelsea's Facebook Friends

If there were one answer to this question, we would have solved this problem by now. So, I vouch for a multi-pronged solution. Below are the things that have helped me the most with conquering my own insecurities as I pursue life and competitive dance.

Be Generous with Yourself

Calling yourself names and making hyperbolic statements about how you're a terrible dancer (and maybe even a terrible human being, now that you think about it) will not make you a better or happier person or a better or happier dancer. Self-flagellation doesn't help. Treat yourself like you would your own best friend. 

Be Generous with Your Partner

It is easy to play the blame game, and blame can be a quick and incidentally satisfying way to offload your negative energy, but it's not ultimately very productive or healthy to your relationship, especially if your dance partner is also your life partner. Whether you are the one doing the blaming or the one getting blamed, remember that your dance partner is their own person with their own feelings and their own journey that is just as valid as your own—but at the same time that you are your own person with your own valid feelings and journey. It is imperative to enforce healthy psychological boundaries in any relationship, and both partners have a role in this. Resist the urge to say "I told you so." Remember that your partner tried their best. Remember that you tried your best too. You both wish it had worked out better. But right now, when you're feeling terrible, is not the time to twist the knife or to solve your problems. Which brings us to...

Feel Your Feelings

Rejection never feels good, especially when it is unexpected. Negative feelings are incredibly hard to tolerate. For me personally, being able to tolerate negative feelings better—both my own and those of others—is one of the hardest and most rewarding things I've worked on in my own therapy. 

One of the most helpful things I've learned in therapy is that feelings have a beginning, a middle, and an end. No feeling lasts forever (even though at the time it seems like it might). And counterintuitively enough, negative feelings pass faster if you take the time to really feel them and process them rather than trying to run from them. If you try to run from your feelings (and worrying about them counts as a kind of avoidance), they will dog you; they will ever be springing up in unexpected places like weeds. In fact, it is precisely because you are avoiding feeling your feelings that you cannot be rid of them. As someone who has spent her whole life trying to avoid her feelings and only recently tried a new tactic, I can vouch for the transformative effects of this alternative approach.

So when you're feeling rejected, or insecure, or depressed, take a deep breath and allow yourself to move through the feeling rather than trying to avoid it. Let yourself feel the totality of all the negativity, for just a few minutes. Put what you're feeling into words, remembering that since you are practicing generosity you are not allowed to make totalizing negative statements about your worth as a human being. 

Here are two examples of healthy and unhealthy ways to put your feelings into words (drawn from extensive personal experience on both sides). Perhaps you will recognize something familiar:

Healthy feeling statements: "I feel so bad about how that contest went. I really thought I was going to do well, and I feel so disappointed at what happened. I'm worried that because I didn't do well in this contest that means that I'm not a good dancer (or not as good as I thought I was). I really wanted to do well; I really thought I had done well. Now I'm worried that I'm off-base about everything. I've put so much into this and to get the outcome I got makes me feel so insecure. Sometimes I even question why I bother." 

Unhealthy feeling statements: "That contest went terribly. My dancing was just awful. What on earth was I thinking that I was going to do well? I'm such a disappointment. This just proves that I'm not a good dancer (or not as good as I thought I was). I should have done better, but moreso I should wake up to the fact that apparently in addition to not being able to dance I also have been deluding myself into thinking I could dance at all. I've put so much into this and this outcome just makes me realize that none of it has been worth anything. Sometimes I even question why I bother."

So you can see that feeling your feelings is not about minimizing them or dismissing them. It's not about pushing your feelings onto your dance partner as a way to blame them for your feelings. Your feelings are valid and they deserve to be felt. But you have to treat them for what they are—feelings—and not turn them into judgments on your character or your partner's character. 

The first time you try this, I recommend that you do it in the presence of a trusted friend or loved one. If your #1 friend and loved one is also your dance partner, it may be helpful to choose someone else for this honor at first. Because once you have truly felt your feelings, you need someone to listen to you patiently, acknowledge how you feel, give you a hug, and tell you that you're wonderful. If your partner is also upset, they may not be in a place where they can do this for you (and you may not be in a place where you can do this for them). In time you may be able to do this for yourself and for your partner as well, but friends who can listen and love on you are always a good idea. 

Contextualize the Situation

Contests reward particular skills (e.g., aesthetics, good rhythm) and minimize others (e.g., feeling, humor, adventurousness). Contests penalize things that in the real world do not matter (e.g., making a mistake). Contests reflect parts of the real world of social dancing, but they are not the same as the real world of social dancing.

The truism is that how well you do in dance contests tells you how well you do in dance contests. It tells you how you were evaluated by a set of particular people with their own opinions and values who based their assessments on an incredibly small snippet of your dancing in a high-pressure setting at tempos that are probably too fast. And because each judge has their own set of values, what pleases one person may not please another—and if these values are diametrically opposed, it may not be possible to please everyone. 

Judges also vary in their levels of expertise and experience with judging; speaking as someone who judges contests more than some and less than others, remember that we are all only human. Judging a contest is a skill and requires immense amounts of self-knowledge, visual acumen, critical thinking, and processing speed. Try it for yourself next time you watch a contest (or rewatch a contest on YouTube) if you want some perspective. 

Contests also put a somewhat artificial boundary on the number of people who will be rewarded, and usually that boundary has a lot to do with not making everyone's butts fall asleep while they watch from the floor. If the group of people who entered the contest is relatively homogeneous, then the criteria by which finalists are chosen become rather picky. Sometimes it is just luck, a numbers game—you got seen at the right moment by the right person. That boundary does not mean that those who were not rewarded are somehow deficient. It means that the ones who were rewarded did the right thing at the right time in the eyes of the people who were chosen to select them. It is a rather narrow thing. 

Examine Your Values

How well you do in dance contests does not tell you whether you are a "good" dancer. It does not tell you whether you are enjoyable to dance with. If you want to know those things, ask your dance friends or a trusted dance teacher. Hopefully they will tell you if you smell or if your technique has some rough edges. But most likely they will help you remember that you are wonderful and that they love you and love dancing with you. 

How well you do in dance contests also does not tell you whether you are living up to your own values for yourself. If you want to know that, ask yourself. What do you care about? What are you going for with your dancing? To what degree are contests an appropriate venue for you to gauge whether you are succeeding at upholding your own values? You might find that contests tap into only a minority of the things that you care about, and it's up to you to determine whether you get more benefit from them than not.

You also have to consider your values in context. It's unlikely (and would be rather unhealthy) if dance was the only thing you valued in life. What do you want your life to look like, and what role does dance play in that? For me, I also have a full-time job, a marriage, a child, friends, and other hobbies that I enjoy. Sometimes I want to stay home instead of dance. Sometimes when I'm at dance events I want to hang out with my friends instead of dance. Realistically, I am not going to spend much of my time practicing. There are dancers who are working harder at dancing than I am, and I must be real with myself that this means that they will improve and sometimes beat me in contests. Because my real goal in life is to live my values, and dance is only a part of that, and competitive dance an even smaller part of that part.

Solve Problems When You're Calm

The heat of the moment is not the time to dissect what went wrong and how you can fix it. Problem-solving can wait until you've calmed down and had a good night's rest to recover from the weekend. When you're feeling bad, your focus has to be on the here-and-now. Acknowledge your feelings and they will pass, because all feelings have a beginning, and middle, and an end. Be generous with yourself and with your partner, and surround yourself with people who love you and can help you feel better. Remember that contests are just one part of the swing dance experience, something that you can choose or not choose to participate in, and that they don't determine your worth or skill as a dancer or a person. 

Why I Compete, and an Anecdote to Prove I'm Not Making This Up

I compete because I like to perform and contests give me an opportunity to do that. It's also nice to be recognized by the community. Since I teach dance as a side career, I also compete because contests are a way for me to get my dancing seen by organizers who might want to hire me and students who might want to learn how to dance like I do. They are also a chance for me to share my vision of what dance can look like and feel like. 

As a case in point, this past weekend at ILHC I got second place in the Strictly Balboa contest and didn't make finals in the Balboa Jack and Jill. All this happened on the same day—which was, I kid you not, my birthday—and you can imagine I was so disappointed and so excited all at once. At dinner before the Strictly finals I had my time to feel disappointed about the J&J. My success in one venue but not another (and this isn't the first time this has happened) made me doubt whether anyone appreciated me for me, not just as someone's partner. To be honest I still worry about this and am working on working through it outside of dealing with the momentary disappointments. 

But I also knew I wouldn't be able to perform that evening if I didn't get through feeling disappointed. Thankfully my wonderful husband and dance partner David listened to me and told me I was wonderful and his favorite dance partner, and I kissed my sweet little boy as he tried to use french fries as a vehicle for eating mainly ketchup as a meal, and I worked through it all and remembered I have such a big and full life. Even in writing this, I am practicing being kind, and remembering that there are so many ways to contribute to our community that matter so much more than a contest. I'm hoping to use this blog as a platform for being a part of that. Hope to see you on the dance floor soon.

Moving Past Infertility

Dear Chelsea,

My husband, "John," is a loving, caring, wonderful man. He is usually hyper-sensitive to taking good care of me. Over the last many years we have been struggling with infertility, and about two years ago John was diagnosed with the causal issue for it. We were told that even with intense medical assistance, it would be nearly impossible for us to have biological children. At that point I had already been through years of very painful, invasive treatments as well as four miscarriages. Given that the odds of us having a biological child even if we continued with these treatments were almost zero, I decided to stop any treatments. It was hard to come to terms with, but I did.

My husband, however, has told me that since I have had a year or two to rest, I should be ready to try again. I told him that it was not a matter of rest, but that this is my final decision—I really made a good faith effort, you can't ask for more from a person, it did not work out, and I am never doing that to my life or my body again.

He just can't understand, maybe because he did not go through the physical process. He thinks I should just suck it up and keep trying. This is so uncharacteristic of him! I know the stakes are high—having a child is a life-changing event—and in some ways it is unfair for me to make this decision for both of us, but I have. I am not doing this anymore. What can I do to make him understand? (This is separate from the issue of whether or not we will adopt maybe someday. This is just the issue of whether or not we will continue with infertility treatments.)

Dear Reader,

I've been mulling your question over for so long, trying to come up with what you say to a person in this situation. I've come to the conclusion that, as with many emotionally traumatic events, there's not much to say. You must listen to him process through his feelings while keeping firm with your decision. I agree with you on that; it's your body and you made a very good faith effort. And before I continue, I would like to say that I am so sorry that it didn't work out the way that you had hoped. You have both been through so much.

The biggest thing to remember is that John's reaction isn't about you; it's about him. He's trying to make it about you, by saying that it's your job to try again now, but you will have to see through that. Right now I think John is probably feeling powerless and his sense of himself as a man has been severely undermined. So, in order to regain a sense of control and normalcy, he is trying to control you and assert himself.

He feels powerless because he doesn't have the power to make a baby. For all that you went through with the treatments and miscarriages, you also had the experience of being in the driver's seat, or as close as you can get with these things. As you said, you understand on a physical level the enormity of it all, whereas he had to watch from the sidelines. It is important not to belittle the difficulty of that. It is a different sort of difficulty than you had, but imagine how monumentally hard it was for him to watch the person he loves the most in the world go through all that you went through. I suspect that the scarring from that pain is helping drive his response; you want to leave that pain behind and I think he wants to fix it and make it have been worth something. I also think he might be having the feeling of wanting to do it himself, as in "if you want something done right, do it yourself" ... except that of course he can't get pregnant, so he wants you to try again so that he can try again too.

And then there is his sense of himself as a man. Most men are socialized to be sexual, get a wife, have children, carry on the family bloodline and name. Now he has been told that he is literally impotent. I can't imagine what it's like to have to wrap your head around that. Have you talked with him about this? How has it impacted his sense of identity? As a way of defending his sense of self, I wonder whether he secretly thinks that because you were able to get pregnant four times that the problem is secretly yours, and that if you just do something different next time, there will be a baby. He might also feel like he has failed you as a man by not being able to give you children, and so he is thinking that another try will mean a chance he hasn't failed you.

Needless to say, these out-of-character reactions are about his own reactions to his own pain. He doesn't want to come to terms with it, so he's trying to get you to try again so he doesn't have to. It's not necessarily rational, but matters of the heart seldom are.

Both your worlds have been rocked by this. It might be good to seek out infertility resources—I found this article about men and infertility from the National Infertility Association helpful. You should also consider visiting a therapist who is experienced in dealing with fertility issues so that you can work through this together without fighting and to gain the perspective of an outside party. It's a long row ahead, and as you said, it's separate from the issue of whether you will adopt a child someday. As for what your journey means thus far... I think that you had to try: It was worth it that you tried. Now it is time to put your energies into healing. My luck and good thoughts to you.