When’s the last time you got excited for a night out, only for it to be a dud of an evening because nobody was dancing?
If you’ve ever thought, damn, people don’t dance together like we used to, it’s true - informal, communal dance, the kind that happens spontaneously in basements, backyards, and concerts, is slipping away.
Have You Also Noticed?
This notion hit me for the first time on New Year’s Eve in 2019, when I attended my first Minnesota house party. At 5 minutes to midnight, I put on a fabulous song and attempted to rally everyone into the living room so we could dance into the new year. People scoffed at me and carried on with their conversations. My friend pulled me aside, laughing, “Christina, you realize you’re trying to start a dance party in the Midwest, right?”
I was crushed. What have I done? I thought. By moving to Minneapolis, have I just signed up for a life without spontaneous dancing??
I wanted answers. So I started paying closer attention.
Over the past few years (when things opened up again after lockdown) I’ve gone to concerts, DJ sets, dance parties, etc., and I keep noticing the same thing: people aren’t really dancing on the dance floor. Bobbing their heads? Yes. A little shoulder sway? Sure. But - ugh - something is missing.
And every time I say fuck it and just start dancing the way I want to, people crowd around and watch. NOT my intention - no, no, NO!
Even traveling, it’s more of the same thing. People everywhere are complaining that “nobody dances anymore.” This isn’t a criticism, it’s a longing we all feel. We crave that electric feeling, the buzz of a shared experience where everyone is lost in the moment, connected by rhythm and movement, feeling timeless and free.
Personal experience, interviews with older folks, and deep research has given me my answer: The feeling is real. We’re not dancing the way we used to. And it’s not a Midwest thing. It’s an everyone-in-America thing.
Here’s what I’ve gathered about why spontaneous dance has been disappearing - and what else we’ve lost along with it.
*you should definitely read this until the end
Spontaneous Dance?
At first, it was hard to label what I’m talking about. I use “spontaneous dancing” to describe ordinary people, with or without formal training, gathering to groove and move in a carefree, unstructured way, where the goal is simply to have fun, connect, and lose themselves in the music.
I say this to distinguish it from "formal social dance" like ballroom, salsa, or line dancing, and from "conscious dance" like ecstatic dance or contact improv, which have their own dedicated spaces and communities.
Spontaneous dance is what happens at house parties, nightclubs, cookouts, concerts, festivals - - you know what I’m talking about! Where many newly recognized forms of social dance today originated, like hip hip, house, and other street styles.
Imposter Syndrome, Safety, Belonging
In today’s world, there are so many styles and genres of dance to choose from, and endless learning platforms available. It feels like, if you don’t have any formal training in a single one of these, you don't belong on the dance floor.
Especially because many, if not most of us, have had past negative experiences with dancing, our bodies, or both. Dancing is vulnerable! We could be laughed at, or objectified. Dancing can feel like we’re exposing ourselves to risk.
And let’s be honest, if the other people on the dance floor aren’t dancing, you’re not gonna want to dance either. You don’t want to attract all that attention! And because we’re all feeling this way, the cycle continues - nobody dances, and the energy stays flat, leaving everyone stuck in their own self-consciousness.
Lack of Exposure
Since the dawn of humanity, dancing was more a part of everyday life. Throughout history, many cultures use dance to tell stories and mark significant life events like births, harvests and other ceremonies, or even just shed the stress from the day. In America, dancing wasn’t just a pastime, it was a social skill. Before TV, people relied on social gatherings for recreation, and music and dancing came naturally to us as something we could all enjoy together.
Even in the early days of television, there were shows like Soul Train and American Bandstand that gave us a platform to see everyday people dancing together, showcasing the joy and energy that spontaneous movement creates. Today’s representation of dance in the media has shifted. Shows like America’s Best Dance Crew, So You Think You Can Dance, and Dancing with the Stars frame dance as a competition, emphasizing perfection, technical skill, and being “the best.”
While there is absolutely nothing “bad” about competitive dance, models for spontaneous communal dance have vanished. Even the dancing we see on social media is usually either trained dancers, or people enjoying spontaneous dance alone in their homes for the camera. As a result, dance is often viewed today as less of a communal activity and more of a niche interest or a personal indulgence.
Practical Barriers
If you’ve read this far, you might be thinking - Go to a nightclub! Go to a music festival! Spontaneous dance hasn’t disappeared completely! And you’re right, it still exists in some places. But here’s where I gotta talk about the practical, mundane stuff.
Where it does exist, there can be financial barriers, scheduling barriers (I like to be in bed before midnight, personally), proximity to places, or the social pressure to dress or act a certain way in those environments. For many, the idea of “going out dancing” feels unwelcoming, especially for those who prefer to stay sober or who dislike overcrowded spaces. Places that successfully create a more inclusive, less alcohol- or hookup-focused vibe are unfortunately few and far between.
And in my experience, when my craving for spontaneous dance overrides my distaste for the nightlife scene, and I pay the $25 cover and get dressed up and stay out late, it still feels like “nobody’s really dancing,” - a sentiment shared by many others I’ve spoken with over the past several years.
What’s the Cost?
It’s easy to see why spontaneous dance feels out of reach for many. What is harder to see, however, is the deep impact its absence has had on our social connections, the strength of our communities, and our collective mental health.
Without communal dance, we’ve lost more than a pastime - we’ve lost a collective way of celebrating, grieving, and simply being together. Dancing together is a simple, yet powerful way to feel a sense of belonging beyond words.
Many of us don’t even know what we’re missing, because we’ve never experienced it for ourselves.
Think of a time when you’ve had a conversation with someone new, and you land on a topic you’re both familiar with. Maybe they quote a movie, and you finish the quote. They go, “No way! You know that movie?” and you laugh wildly. This person somehow feels like less of a stranger now.
That connection - that’s what culture feels like. It’s the invisible thread that ties us to one another, a bond that can’t be explained but only felt.
It feels a bit silly to even describe this, but for most Americans, many of our “cultural” ties come from media (movies, cartoons, viral videos). We feel connected to people when they’ve seen or enjoyed the same stuff we do.
Before television and social media, and in many cultures across the world today, the invisible thread that connects people is music, stories and dance. These shared practices amplify our celebrations and anchor us in times of grief and suffering.
Without this kind of communal experience, we often feel insecure or disconnected, even when surrounded by people who, by simply living in the same town or city, inherently share something in common with us. Without something deeper to connect to, we remain strangers to one another.
And this disconnection, I believe, has even deeper implications that we could spend a long time unpacking.
Be sure to check out my next post -