On Dancing with Men and Women

I admit it: I like dancing with men.

But this statement must be placed in its proper context, lest it be misunderstood. First of all, I have contradancing especially in mind, as opposed to couple dances like ballroom or swing or tango. Though contradancing entails dancing with a partner, it usually involves at least three other couples at a time. Contradancers will typically find themselves dancing with someone other than their partners for something like half the dance, and it is not uncommon that that one should find oneself dancing with a dancer of the same sex. To actually select an individual of the same sex as one's partner is a separate question.

Second, and I want to stress this point, to say that I like dancing with men is not to say that I do not like dancing with women. In point of fact, I do like to dance with women; I like it very much. It's a bit difficult to say why in general, because not every girl dances alike. Some are very cooperative, and they make dancing a comfortable and pleasant experience. Others like to shake things up, and I appreciate their spunk; those dances are lively and sometimes silly. In any event, I see no pressing need to prove that dancing with women is fun. If I did not like dancing with women, I probably wouldn't have stuck with dancing for as many years as I have.

That being said, two characteristics have generally distinguished my experiences dancing with men from those dancing with women. In the first place: when I dance with a woman, particularly a woman I do not know, I feel like I'm under some pressure to keep her entertained. For me, there's no such pressure when dancing with a man. I'm not trying to impress him or anything; we're just dancing. So I find it easier to let loose. And in a similar vein: though all my training in dancing has taught me to be gentle to my partners, I have far fewer reservations being rough with another guy than with a girl. That's just the way I've learned to relate to other men, namely, by roughing them up a little. Brothers beat each other up--it's that simple. So while able-bodied guys and girls can perform some remarkably energetic swings, two guys, I take it, have no qualms about hurling each other to opposite ends of the dance floor.

Take last Friday's contra, for example. The first dance that night had a part where the two guys go to the center of the line, balance and pull by right into a do-si-do, which turns into an allemande right once-and-a-half, from which each sends the other to his partner for a swing. Besides being a really cool sequence with a little false start and then a bunch of spins, it gives us two or three opportunities to really pummel each other, as well as a chance to build up some serious momentum to transition us into our respective swings. I definitely checked my share of right arms that night, and got checked right back just as often. And we flew out of those allemande rights like friggin' cannonballs at our partners. I ended up sore and bruised, but I had a great night.

When the caller first ran through the guys' part of the dance, I turned to my partner and said, "This is going to be a fun dance!" Her eyes got wide, and she looked at me as if to say, "Did he just say that?"

Is it really all that gay to like dancing with other men?

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

On Being a Moderate So-Called

Today at lunch, one of my grad buddies tried to come up with a brief description of my theological posture for the benefit of one of his friends. And so it happened, for the first time ever I think, that I was described as a "moderate." My buddy apparently meant it as a complement. By it he intended something like: "This guy is not a mindless follower. He thinks for himself, and what he thinks is interesting."

I appreciated his sentiment. I certainly would like to think of myself as one who thinks and is capable of thinking. On the other hand--as you have probably guessed by this point--I am not too big a fan of his choice of words. For some time now the idea of a "moderate" has been a pet peeve of mine. Or, to be more precise: it upsets me that to some, the label "moderate" seems to be that without which one is incapable of entering into an honest intellectual discussion. This elevation of the "moderate" amounts to saying that one cannot identify oneself or be identified as, for example, "conservative" or "liberal," and hope to be taken seriously by another intelligent person.

Perhaps this sentiment--I refer to the elevation of the "moderate"--is an indication of the lasting effect of the Nicomachean Ethics on our culture. That virtue lies on a mean between two extremes has virtually been written on the heart of any good Westerner. It is unfortunate that not quite as many recall Aristotle's corrolary to this dictum: it usually happens that the mean lies somewhat closer to one of the extremes than the other. (Cf. 1109a 1-19 [pp. 962-63 in the McKeon edition].) I cite the text here because of its critical importance and because it appears that it has been all but totally neglected these days. Courage really does look a lot more like recklessness than cowardice, which means that the virtuous one runs a greater risk of upsetting the cowards than the reckless folk. But this isn't a bad thing, since the courageous person isn't measured by the reckless or the cowardly. Quite the contrary: she herself is the measure of the cowardly and the reckless.

"Moderate" takes the Aristotelian idea of virtue and cleanses it of all content, until what remains is stark naked, totally empty, and utterly droll. The word means absolutely nothing, and so to call someone a moderate is to say nothing at all. I can think of only one advantage to the descriptor: it tells someone that my stance cannot be summarized in a few words, that if one wishes to know what I think, one will surely have to consult the horse's mouth. One would have to do me the outstanding courtesy of actually asking me what I think! This usage of a term like "moderate" can be justified only in a culture whose default stance is to deny me precisely that courtesy, to deny me my "day in court." Just because I am a "liberal" or a "conservative." What rubbish.

The way I see it, if some people call me conservative, and others call me liberal, then perhaps it means I'm doing something right. But moderate? What should I think of that?

Maybe I need to try to tick more people off.