competition

Perspectives on degendering competitions: Kim Sifter

Over the past year there has been a strong effort to make West Coast Swing competitions gender neutral, meaning men can compete as followers and women can compete as leaders. This degendering of competitions has raised a lot of questions, caused many concerns, and stimulated plenty of debate about the purpose of competitions, the logistics of how we implement competitions, and even the definition of roles in the dance. To shed some more light on this subject, I’ve asked a few different leaders of the degendering movement to share their perspectives and insights here on this blog. Each week this month I will post a different guest blog, and at the end of the series I will share my own thoughts on the issue. (Be sure to read last week’s post by Kelly Casanova.)

shapeimage_2This week’s guest is San Francisco’s own Kim Sifter. Specializing in West Coast Swing, Kim has been teaching dance for over 25 years. In addition to American Smooth and Rhythm, Kim’s diverse dance background includes Ballet, Modern, Jazz, Belly-dance, Tap, Country Two-Step and Argentine Tango. As Somatic Movement Therapist and Educator and graduate of the Ballroom Dance Teacher’s College, Kim sees dancing as integral to everyday life. Her philosophy of dance as art, sport and conversation between two people gives her a unique perspective on teaching dance. For more about Kim, her background, and her classes, please visit her website.


Ever had a conversation with a complete stranger? Of course, we all do. We strike up conversations in line at the grocery store or waiting for the bus, maybe with the waiter. They’re generally short, innocuous, usually of a positive nature, and, on occasion, flirtatious.

If a WCS dance is a conversation between two people, and I believe it is, than why do we limit ourselves to one type of conversation? And only with the opposite sex? Furthermore, why should one gender always own the topic of the conversation? Which is kinda what leading is when you think about it.

I want to have all the conversations I can. I want to learn about you, and sometimes I have something to say. (Ack! Don’t ask my husband about that one. He will tell you that I have a Kimpinion about EVERYTHING.)

If one of the measures of how well we do this thing called West Coast Swing is how well we do it under pressure, with a partner we don’t know, dancing to music we may not have heard, in front of people we don’t know who judging us, then why have further restrictions about how that dance is supposed to be other than we’re still doing the standards of the dance? We might as well say you can only do the following steps, execute the following patterns, wear these clothes, be this age, look this way.

By opening up Jack & Jill contests to any arrangement of gender in any roll, you expand the conversations you are privileged to have. Yes, I know there are a number of people, maybe even a large number that only want to have one conversation, and that’s okay. That’s what Strictly Swings and Routine divisions are for. You call the shots.

West Coast Swing is so many things to so many people these days, from the music to the timing to look and feel, why are we restricting the growth from a prescribed role point of view? Just because? There’s nothing wrong with figuring out what defines a dance or a contest, but I believe in making those decisions based on the essence of the dance and not preconceived societal notions of gender roles.

Have the conversations! Talk, relate, dance…. Connect.

Perspectives on degendering competitions: Kelly Casanova

Over the past year there has been a strong effort to make West Coast Swing competitions gender neutral, meaning men can compete as followers and women can compete as leaders. This degendering of competitions has raised a lot of questions, caused many concerns, and stimulated plenty of debate about the purpose of competitions, the logistics of how we implement competitions, and even the definition of roles in the dance. To shed some more light on this subject, I’ve asked a few different leaders of the degendering movement to share their perspectives and insights here on this blog. Each week this month I will post a different guest blog, and at the end of the series I will share my own thoughts on the issue.

KellyCasanovaThis week’s guest is none other than Kelly Casanova, a two-time U.S. Open Swing Dance champion, chief judge of such prestigious events as Seattle Easter Swing and Boogie by the Bay, and an outstanding instructor, promoter, and community leader here in the San Francisco Bay Area. In 2004 she was inducted into the National Swing Dance Hall of Fame and in 2006 she was inducted into the California Swing Dance Hall of Fame. She has also been a member of the World Swing Dance Council and has served on the Executive Advisory Committee of the U.S. Open. She has been a strong advocate and long-time leader for eliminating gender discrimination in West Coast Swing competitions, and below she shares her experiences over the years with this issue. For more about Kelly, her background, and her classes, please visit her website.


In 1981 I started teaching West Coast Swing at The Avenue Ballroom in San Francisco. The owner, Joel “Oz” Koosed, had set a precedent of referring to students as “leaders and followers” and I have continued that practice for over 30 years. I immediately saw the value in learning both parts and have encouraged my students to learn, at the very least, the basics as both lead and follow. Although I have always encouraged students to learn the “opposite part,” the numbers have exponentially increased in the last 10 years. In my classes there are generally more women than men who opt to learn the non-traditional role; I think this is because there are normally more women at dances than men, and this way the women know they will always be able to dance socially. Unfortunately, I know of several areas in the country where students are not allowed to take class in the non-traditional role, and during the early years of my teaching in other areas of the country my use of “leaders and followers” was not always well-received by either the promoter or the students. My experience in teaching has taught me that beginners form their attitudes towards non-traditional role dancers according to how their instructor reacts to men requesting to follow and women requesting to lead. If the teacher treats the situation as normal and valid, the students follow suit; if the teacher is uncomfortable, then so are the students. One of my favorite teaching moments occurred at the SwingOut dance in Oakland. I asked the leaders to form a line against one wall, and the followers a line against the opposite wall. It was impossible to identify the lines based on gender as both lines held an equal number of men and women. It was a wonderful moment!

When I started attending conventions there were no division levels – just one “Jack & Jill” where everyone entered regardless of age or skill and I don’t recall anyone asking to compete in a non-traditional role; it wasn’t even on the dance community’s radar. Sometime in the early ‘80s the Invitational level was established and that was the only separation of contestants. Since there were not very many conventions each year (and no points!), conventions were more about social dancing, sharing knowledge, and spending quality time with friends than concentrating on competitions.

Once the dance community created leveled divisions I suggested to several members of the World Swing Dance Council (WSDC) that we allow contestants to lead and follow in whatever division they were qualified to compete in regardless of gender. As you might suspect, my suggestion wasn’t well-received. I continued to lobby to eliminate gender discrimination, believing that working within the system would provide me more access to the people and organizations who could make the changes I wanted to see in the community.

In 1998, a promoter suggested that if I considered it such an important issue, I should “put my money where my mouth was” and run my own convention. So I did. In 1999 I ran Swing Break. Although I had over 800 attendees, I got a huge amount of flack for opening my “Luck of the Draw” contests to male followers and female leaders. Those competing in a non-traditional role took their competitions very seriously, and several non-traditional competitors placed in or won their divisions. Despite the positive competitive results, the ensuing social backlash was so intense I was only able to run the event one additional year. At the time, I was a single mom and if the event failed it could have resulted in me losing my house. As a result, I decided that rather than compromise and offer traditional Jack & Jill contests, I would rather not put all the effort required to operate an event if I couldn’t do it in a way that I thought was ethical.

Although I was discouraged that the community did not embrace my wish to end gender discrimination in competitions (the term “degendering” had not yet been coined), the good news was that after Swing Break more events allowed non-traditional couples in their Strictly Swing divisions. This was because one of the major arguments against ending gender discrimination was that competitors shouldn’t be “forced” to dance with someone of the same gender. The argument at the time was that degendered Jack & Jills would “force” people to dance with someone of the same gender, while Strictly Swings would allow competitors to choose their partners. We all need to remember that all of this was occurring at a time when some companies and the military would remove members if they were “out” and some people thought that it was unfair to put people – especially our soldiers – in jeopardy of losing their jobs over a dance contest. Apparently many people at the time could not understand why someone who was heterosexual would want to dance in a non-traditional role, and therefore the practice was inaccurately labeled solely a LGBT issue.

I spent the next 14 years lobbying “behind the scenes.” The only tangible result I can identify from those efforts was a loss of work for being labeled a “troublemaker.” (During this time I was also lobbying for stricter swing content clarification in rules, which was equally controversial.) In the spring of 2014, I wrote a letter to the National Association of Swing Dance Events (NASDE) formally requesting that they remove gender restrictions from all contests. I received a response that no action would be taken “at this time.” Tired of trying to work within the system, I decided to start a petition and take the issue more public. My daughter, Samantha Buckwalter, encouraged me to substitute an online petition for a paper one (which I had planned to personally take to conventions). Since my computer skills are below the newcomer level I turned to Jonathan Jackson for help. I had recently discovered his Degendering West Coast Swing Facebook page and knew he also cared deeply about the issue so it was a good fit. He took my petition and put it online. In less than 24 hours we had over 1000 signatures. I don’t think I reached that many people working one on one in the previous 25 years! The petition helped continue the conversation and helped advertise the issue. As a result of the efforts of many people and organizations and some very courageous promoters and clubs throughout the US, there are now about 16 events that I know of that have committed to opening up their competitions to male followers and female leaders.

My experience as a first time novice lead at Swingtacular in San Jose was very positive. Kudos to Ben McHenry for having the courage to step up! All my partners were very gracious and accepting. Since I had never competed in a Novice division before (I went directly from the one contest Jack & Jill format to the Invitational level), it was a very special experience for me. The only negative feedback I received was when I went to look at the postings to see if I made finals. A woman, who didn’t know who I was or that I had competed in Novice as a leader, complained to me that it “wasn’t fair” that so many women made Novice finals as leaders because her boyfriend had “worked a really long time to make finals and would have made it if the women hadn’t taken ‘his’ place.” I asked her how long he had worked to make finals and she said, “Almost a whole year!” I smiled sympathetically and said, “Tell your boyfriend patience pays off. I have been working 30 years for the opportunity to make Novice finals.” 🙂

I have had no difficulty judging or Chief Judging competitions where non-traditional competitors compete. The only issues I have had are logistical such as re-writing rules that are out-dated to make sure the contest are fair. For example, many events have allowed Strictly Swing couples to switch roles during their competition. The problem is that some competitors have tried to game the system by registering in their weaker role and then switching to compete in their stronger role. An example of this is when an advanced male leader who also competes as a Novice follower registers in an Intermediate Strictly Swing contest with a woman who leads at the Intermediate level and follows at the advanced level and then they compete in their traditional roles for the entire dance. They registered as an Intermediate lead (her) and a Novice follow (him), but competed as an Advanced lead (him) and an Advanced follow (her) in an Intermediate division. Not exactly fair to the other competitors. Since it is the competitors’ job to test the boundaries of the rules, new rules need to be written and their intent clarified. Due to the complex nature of the issue, it can get confusing, but it is not impossible to address. Another issue that has been raised is the possibility of non-traditional competitors “mocking” their role. Although I saw inappropriate behavior of this type happen 20 years ago in a few contests, all the non-traditional role competitors that I have seen in the last year have taken their competitions very seriously and I have not seen this to be an issue.

I’m optimistic that the decisions reached by NASDE and the WSDC during their meetings at the US Open over the Thanksgiving weekend will result in a shift in policy on this issue. I believe, as I have for several decades, that it is only a matter of time before non-traditional competitors are a non-issue in our community. I do find it interesting that the Lindy community, which supposedly represents our roots and the “older” form of swing, has had non-traditional competitors in their community for many years without any controversy, and that it is the WCS community, the more “progressive” style of the dance, that seems to have a difficult time with the concept. What I have chosen to take away from all my experiences with this issue as a social dancer, competitor, teacher, judge, chief judge, and promoter is that if you really feel strongly about an issue it is worth working towards change even if progress doesn’t come as quickly as you would like. I may not have been able to have had the opportunity to lead competitively at the peak of my career, but my daughter has that opportunity – and that fact alone makes all my efforts worthwhile.

The rarity of amazing

It strikes me that these days there seems to be some pretty high expectations of dances and dance events. People want greatness from their dances – that incredible connection when everything aligns with a partner and the music – and greatness from their events – the amazing energy of an inspiring weekend experience. I don’t blame those with such expectations: who doesn’t want great dances with their partners? And with an increasing number of events to choose from, we want great value for our dollar – events that are fun and rewarding.

The problem arises when people are overly disappointed because reality doesn’t match their expectations. Just because a dance isn’t out-of-this-world amazing doesn’t mean it isn’t something to be enjoyed and appreciated. Just because a dance event isn’t mind-blowing doesn’t mean it can’t be entertaining and worthwhile. Sometimes good is good enough, and we should be happy with that. Because you know what? “Amazing” is a rare thing.

The fact that “amazing” isn’t common is partly what makes it so amazing. If every dance were amazing, then the bar would simply get raised and we might start expecting more. The rarity of “amazing” is what makes it special, and what keeps us coming back for more, and what drives us to work harder to improve. It’s the possibility of having that amazing experience that makes this dance both exciting and rewarding. But the truth is that most of the time dances are not amazing.

Take competitions, for example. In any finals of a higher-level division, there may be a couple or even three truly outstanding dances. Then there will be a few good but not amazing dances. And the rest will be less than successful – missed connections, misaligned styles, conflicted partnerships, etc. So of say ten dances, only a couple are going to be amazing. Why should we expect any more from our own dancing experiences, whether competitive or social?

Honestly, I mostly blame social media. Let’s face it: No one posts videos of crappy dances on YouTube; they post the amazing dances. And no one writes post-event status updates on Facebook discussing why an event wasn’t enjoyable and how it could be improved; instead they write about the amazing dances!, the amazing competitions!, and the amazing people!

But the truth is: not everything is amazing. And that’s okay.

I’m fortunate to live in an incredible dance community – big, friendly, and talented – and I know I get spoiled with great dances. So when I go to a dance or weekend event, yeah, I’ve been the guy who has a run of bad dances and complains about it. But then I remind myself to have a little perspective: I’m so privileged to be able to do this thing we call partner dancing – to express my love of music through movement, and to get to do that with someone else. So maybe we didn’t create magic, or we had some missed connections, or I had to work a little harder. I’m still getting to do something I love, something not everyone can do or do well, and even if it wasn’t great for me, maybe I made someone else’s day a little better. It may not be amazing, but that’s pretty darn good, don’t you think?

So as the year ends, and the holiday season arrives, let’s be thankful for all our dancing, amazing or not. And may the coming year be one in which we find the amazing in all our dances.

Want to move up to get better partners?

I like talking to other competitors about their experiences competing, in part out of a sense of camaraderie and in part out of sheer morbid curiosity. When I ask how someone did in competition, I often hear such responses as, “My partners weren’t very good” or “I didn’t get good draws.” And this is often followed by an expression of the desire to move up into the next division in order to get better draws. As the thinking goes, if you can get better partners, you’ll have better dances, and therefore you’ll do better in competition.

Okay. I get it. As someone who has often been (and often still is) dependent on his partner for energy and creativity and the ability to just “make it work,” I totally understand the desire for a good partner. We all want a great partner who makes us feel good, who makes us look good, and who brings more to the table – better technique, better musicality, better partner skills. (Especially better partner skills.)

But let’s get one thing straight: your dancing is your responsibility. Your partner is not responsible for your technique, or your body movement, or your interpretation of the music. While a partner can make it more challenging or less comfortable for you to be your best, hopefully you’re at a level of proficiency that you can shine with any partner, right? After all, in a Jack & Jill contest, you’re getting judged as an individual in the preliminary rounds, so they’re looking at your own quality of movement, technique, style, musicality, and partner skills. I mean, really, what does it say about your skill level if you only dance well with really good dancers?

And let’s be honest about another thing: everyone wants to move up to get better partners, but no one thinks they’re the reason someone else wants to move up to get better partners. Everyone is so eager to move up quickly, but if you move up too quickly and you get out based on points and not proficiency, you’re going to be at the bottom of the next division. So yeah, now you’re getting better partners, but they’re getting someone who isn’t ready to be there yet. Now someone else will be saying, “I want to move up to get better partners”… because of you.

I’ve been that guy. I moved up quickly through Novice and Intermediate, and entered Advanced (at a time when All Star had yet to be created on the East Coast) as the guy who didn’t belong. Yes, I had gotten enough points, but there was a wide chasm in skill level between me who just joined the club and those who had been dancing in Advanced for years – honing their skills, demonstrating their abilities, and getting rewarded for it. So I’d get into the rotation and rightfully received the “oh crap” or “who are you?” or “what are you doing here?” face from some poor follower who got stuck with me.

And deserved or not, that kind of greeting just sucks, from both sides: it’s crappy to feel like you don’t belong, and it’s crappy to not be a more gracious and welcoming partner. Yes, we all rise to the level of our incompetence, and when you do move up you’ll likely be one of the weaker dancers in your level, but wouldn’t it feel good to move up because you deserve to be there based on your abilities, not on your points? Do you want to be the “oh crap” person? And, conversely, do you want to be the one who blames the other people in the division for his or her inability to perform well in competition? Is that the kind of partner you want to be? Is it the kind of person you want to be?

Here’s my advice, for what it’s worth: The next time you compete, go ahead and do your best. Dance your best. And be your best – as a dancer but also as a person. A kind, decent human being. And if someone asks you how it went, maybe think about what you did well or what you could have done better.

After all, we’re fortunate to be dancers – to do this thing we love so much. And we’re fortunate to be partner dancers – we get to share in the experience of dancing with someone else. What an awesome thing! Don’t forget it the next time you compete.

How do your partners in a competition affect your performance? When you reflect upon your performance, how much do you let your partners influence your impression? Teachers, how do you respond to students who blame their partners? How do you get students to focus on themselves and their own competencies?

Our competitive nature

I had a blog all planned for earlier this month, but then two things happened: (1) I launched a new weekly dance in San Francisco (shameless plug for Mission City Swing); and (2) my last post went viral, reaching over 3,000 people in 50 countries around the world. Honestly, I was shocked. I’ve been writing blogs off and on for years, and this is the first one that took off. It got me thinking: Why did this one blog post resonate with so many people?

When I’ve talked with people about it, I heard a few different reactions: people related to it, it was personal, it was the way I wrote it, it went beyond dance. Those are all good reasons for the viral spread of the post. Nevertheless, I can’t help but feel that its popularity and the way it resonated with so many people is also a reflection of the importance of competition and competing in our global community.

Let’s be honest: we’re a very competition-oriented community. Competitions are the focus of our events, showcasing incredible talent through a variety and multitude of formats. Moreover, we have a very complex system for awarding points to competitors, and most competitors are keenly aware of how many points they have – and how many they need to move into the next division. And it’s not unusual to hear people ask about or refer to another’s level or division. Yes, there are many in our communities who don’t compete and don’t go to events and just enjoy social dancing. Still, it seems to me that the community in general is driven by the competitive world.

Competition can be a good thing. It drives us to improve, to push ourselves, to push our dancing, and to push the dance itself. In the time I’ve been dancing West Coast Swing I have seen a lot of evolution in the dance, and say what you will about that evolution, I would argue that the level of technical skill and musicality has greatly improved in our community. The top competitors are leading the way, continually working to outdo themselves, and it sets a great example for all of us to continually work at this dance, to continually improve, and to continually aim ever higher.

The danger, in my mind, of being competition-oriented is when competition becomes the basis for our social interactions.

As I’ve noted before, I took a few years off from competing, with the exception of 2011, when I competed in the Classic division with Yenni Setiawan. It was an awesome experience and I loved doing the routine with her, though our success was limited. At the end of 2012, for personal reasons, I had to step out of our partnership and I stopped going to events altogether for a year, until Boogie by the Bay of this past year.

I say all this because, with the exception of last year, I’ve been around, even if I haven’t always been competing. So when I went to Palm Springs for New Year’s and competed, I had to laugh when I met people and they said, “Where have you been?” as if I’d popped up out of nowhere. It was funnier still when I had known of some of these people for some time but just had never formally met them. I thought, I’ve been around for years – you just haven’t noticed me until now.

And after those encounters I was struck with a feeling – the same feeling I had had before when I got wrapped up in competition years ago: the feeling that you aren’t someone in this community until you’re someone in competition.

I don’t think this is happening everywhere to everyone, but I do sometimes get the feeling that we value people based on their status in competition. We sometimes prioritize dancing with those in our own division so we can prepare for competition. We sometimes seek out dancers in higher divisions in the hopes of better dances. We sometimes avoid people in higher divisions out of fear of disappointing – or avoid dancers in lower divisions out of fear of being disappointed. We ask about someone’s division, we compare points, and we want to study with top competitors – sometimes regardless of their teaching ability. In isolation, each of these choices may not be so bad, but collectively they can be problematic. Because it’s a problem for our sense of community when competition fosters a social hierarchy, a segmentation or stratification, where social groups form based on people’s status in competition.

What’s worse is that competition isn’t always an accurate measure of one’s dancing.

Sure, competition can capture some aspects of a dancer’s abilities, but in truth it emphasizes some skills over others. Competition can reveal aspects of one’s technique and movement, but it is better at assessing one’s aesthetic and one’s ability to perform and entertain an audience. (This is why – at all levels – there are dancers who look better than they feel.)

Aesthetics, musicality, and performance are all important skills, but what’s their relative importance when you’re actually dancing with someone? Do you care most about how someone looks? How they entertain a crowd? Or do you care more about how they feel? Or better yet, how they make you feel? If you care more about the latter, then one’s success in competition isn’t necessarily the best measure of someone’s value in our community.

To be honest, I’ve had some great dances with top-level dancers, and I’ve had some not-so-great dances with top-level dancers. Some of my best dances – the most fun, the most engaging, the most enjoyable – have been with people at lower levels. The point is that level or points or visibility don’t correlate with how much I enjoy dancing with someone. Really the only way to know if someone is worth dancing with is to actually dance with that person (or trust the advice of others, but even then, they may have a different experience than you).

So forget points, forget divisions, and forget what you saw in competition. If you see someone you haven’t danced with before, ask that person to dance. Roll the dice. Take a chance. You may just make that person’s day. And that person may just make yours. But even if they don’t, it’s good for our community. And anything that’s good for our community is something we should make viral.