Tuesday, June 5, 2012

The Semiotics of Latin Dance

I've been becoming more interested and involved in salsa dancing since the beginning of this year, and thought I would take a deeper look into the realms of the culture.
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Dancing is an art form that transcends geographical and cultural boundaries, as evident by the appreciation of movement in general. It is like a universal language, where the body speaks so mouths do not have to. Latin dance is no exception. Dances like the cha cha cha, merengue, tango, and rumba have crossed borders all over the world and have become national phenomena in the United States, with studios appearing in states all over the country and millions of people learning a variety of these styles. As enthusiastic as some people might be about these art forms, often the history and significance of these dances are lost to the general populace. According to Anthony Shay, award winning choreographer and author of Dancing Across Borders, “many, if not most, of those mainstream Americans who dance Latin American dances have little idea of the specific countries and societies in which a dance originated” (11). They regard the dance styles as dangerously sexy and try to reflect that in the exotic Latin form, but the dance goes a lot deeper than that. Where did they originate? How have they evolved and adapted to merge so easily in this country? How have its meanings changed over time, and how does this differ for men and women? The semiotics of dance are open to many different interpretations, but each can unravel underlying values and implications of a people and their culture.
           
The broad category of “Latin American dance” is characterized generally as fast-paced and sensual, with obvious hip movements and distinctive partnered steps. However, this label encompasses a very wide range of styles. The term “Latin America” encompasses the nations of South and Central America and the Caribbean, so the diversity among Latin dances is great. What all of them seem to have in common is a blending of various influences. Anthony Shay explains that “many of the Latin American dances have folk dance or social dance roots, some of the dances of African origins have spiritual and religious roots, and local as well as Spanish, European, and African origins” (169). Latin music dance is a convolution of the beats and rhythms of many different cultures, blending Indigenous, European, and African forms together into a truly mestizo, or mixed, creation.

The history behind this goes that European conquerors imported African slaves from various parts of West Africa into a large part of the Americas, mostly because they had a difficult time persuading the indigenous populations to work for them. By 1553, the numbers of imported African slaves outnumbered the Europeans in Mexico (Herbison-Evans), so there was a substantial influence from three distinct ethnic groups. Dancing was an important part in all three of these cultures. A gradual fusion of the three cultures occurred through the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, and this produced a new culture: Creole. Many foreign traditions were “creolized,” including dance and song. The danzón was one of the first creole dances, featuring adopted syncopated rhythms that become more complex over time. This syncopation is now a feature of all the Latin-American dances.
           
Latinos and non-Latinos alike can identify with the Latin dance style, but often mainstream Americans do not realize that there is a history and purpose entwined in the beats and rhythms associated with these dances. As Priscilla Renta, writer and salsa performer, Latin dance “is often stripped of its cultural politics —rooted in a history of slavery and colonization in the Caribbean and Latin America —for mass consumption” (142). The meanings become lost or pushed aside, turning the dance into something hollow or insignificant. Ruben Blaze, salsa singer, songwriter, and Latin activist, says that he sings of the political prisoners of Latin America and “the sadness of losing all their freedom” (Beats of the Heart). In short, music and politics go hand in hand in authentic Latin music, as sometimes that is or has been a peoples only reprieve—to sing and to dance. Latin immigrants experienced much oppression in the earlier parts of this century, so song and dance was often a way to escape their troubles. Shay explains that “dance became a vehicle for displaying specific national identities” (174), so it was not only a mode of escape but also a celebration of culture.
           
Take, for example, the salsa genre, a style that is arguably the most popular of all the Latin dances in the United States. Latin-influenced dance music was produced in New York City and elsewhere in the 1940s when the Cuban and Puerto Rican population was rapidly growing in size and influence. The arrival of what is now considered to be the salsa really was not until the 1960s. It evolved from various other Latin dance styles like the son, along with the rumba and guaracha (Manuel 4). At the heart of most Latin music styles are the mestizo influences from African slaves, European colonists, and indigenous peoples. These combined with American jazz undertones constitute the backbone of what is now the salsa, so it is really something that evolved here from a multitude of different cultural influences. When native dancers do the salsa, they are connected to their histories and origins in a significant and tangible way.
           
The history of the bachata is also another illuminating example of a Latin dance with a complex history. It is one of the more risqué of the Latin dances that have become popular here in the United States. Excessive hip action combined with a very sensual tension between the partners are likely to make the more conservative folks cringe, but there can be a particular kind of grace and beauty in the movements. Understanding its history makes it even seem rather poetic; it originated in the Dominican Republic and was at one point banned under the rule of General Trujillo in the1930s (The Bachata Chronicles). During his thirty years in power, he oversaw perhaps the bloodiest three decades in the country's history. Dubbed El Jefe—the Judge—by many, it is estimated that Trujillo was directly responsible for over 50,000 deaths before his assassination in 1961. In his reign of oppression, brutal force was used against actual or perceived members of any opposition. Dancing fell victim as well. The bachata was outlawed, and those found playing or dancing this style were liable to be jailed as peoples’ freedom of expression was taken away from them. Yet the dance survived as folks danced on in secret, like an underground society of dance. The exaggerated hip pop in the basic step of the dance is said to carry extra significance, as if “that little hop was like trying to free their feet from something” (The Bachata Chronicles). The dance was a form of liberation, if only for a moment.
           
Clearly, the over-generalized term of “Latin dance” in America is misleading. The histories of the salsa to the bachata are each pieces of cultural identity to Cuba/Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic, respectively, just as the tango is to Argentina, the samba is to Brazil, and the mariachi is to Mexico. To native dancers, dance and music can be an expression of history, origin, and politics. However, this meaning is often lost to mainstream Americans who enjoy the dances as fun pastimes.
           
Latin dance scholar and performer, Priscilla Renta, suggests that “the physiology of the dance is of extreme importance regardless of who is performing it; it is not mutually exclusive from the Latino/a identity politics” (143). In other words, Latin dancing is both a physical and intellectual activity for native dancers, reaffirming the idea that dance and politics go hand in hand. Choreographer Anthony Shay theorizes that ethnic dancing has allowed many Americans to create more exciting, exotic, and romantic identities because there are specific deficiencies in the U.S. cultural identity (169). This suggests that Americans have a washed out identity of their own and therefore try to relate with other cultures through song and dance. Both these opinions might certainly be part of the allure for such a broad array of American participants, but what Shay and Renta do not address is the attraction of the very mood of the physical dance. It elicits more than just a historical connection, and there is more literal and direct meaning to the physiology of the style. The dance is not just an escape to another cultural identity, but also to a personal identity.
           
If one was to delve into the ethnology of Latin culture, it is apparent that as a whole, it is largely a male-dominated group of people. This male machismo translates to their dances in a very literal manner; it is inextricably entwined in the music, the footwork, and even the general attitude surrounding the culture. As the academically esteemed Latin feminist writer and activist, Frances Aparicio, points out, salsa contains contending ideologies like “patriarchal values, love songs, Christian themes, eroticism, politically progressive texts, nostalgic allusions to emigration, urban life, reaffirmations of race and ethnicity, AIDS, and so on,” but it consistently articulates misogynistic attitudes toward women (668). As she deconstructs the gender inscriptions in different songs, it becomes clear that women are objectified in Latin music. For Latin dances like the salsa or the bachata, there are certain roles one must assume to truly experience the nature of the dance. To be a good lead, one must direct the flow of the dance and communicate his will through body gestures rather than voice. A good follow assumes a more passive role and must listen and obey readily to these subtle cues, spinning or dipping or moving when she is told to. In essence, the female follow is like a flashy puppet, and the lead is her puppet master. Obviously, it is not as black and white as that; both dancers have freedom to add his or her special flair and show personal expression, which is the main function of dance. However, it is inarguably largely a patriarchal exercise.
           
Machismo is defined as a strong sense of masculine pride and a strong or exaggerated sense of power or the right to dominate. Arguably, this very theme which is prevalent in Latin dance is part of the allure for mainstream Americans. During the same era as Latin dance was popularizing in the United States, there was also a feminist movement where women began playing more active roles as leaders and independent people. In essence, there became a shift in the social structure in the United States. In a society where women are not only self-directing but can even outcompete men, perhaps it is attractive to participate in an activity where the man has total control and the woman’s only responsibility is to smile and be told what to do. It is an escape to simpler times with binary gender roles.
           
In any case, Latin dance encompasses many different art forms and attitudes from varying origins and locations. For some people these dances are an integral part of identity, politics, and history; for others, dance is an outlet to assume an exotic identity. Still for others, the dances may simply be recreational activities and something to do. Whatever the reason may be, it is clear that it has the ability to move people at an emotional level. Latin music is at its core a multiethnic phenomenon, with its Afro-Indo-European roots, and as such it should continue to spread among and between people across borders. Like food and laughter, music and dance is best shared, be it with a partner or across an entire society.

Works Cited

Aparicio, Frances R. Listening to Salsa: Gender, Latin Popular Music and Puerto Rican Culture. Connecticut: Wesleyan University Press, 1998.

Bachata Chronicles. Dir. Nino Acosta. Perf. Bachateros y Bachateras All-Star Cast. Nino Acosto Films. 2010. Film.
           
Beats of the Heart: Salsa: Latin Pop Music in the Cities. Dir. Jeremy Marre. Perf. Ray Barretto, Ruben Blades, and Willie Colon. Harcourt Films. 1979. Film.

Herbison-Evans, Don. “History of Latin-American Dancing.” Linus Education. 2011. University of Sydney. 1 May 2012.

Manuel, Peter. Popular Musics of the Non-Western World. New York: Oxford University Press Inc., 1988.

Renta, Priscilla. "Salsa Dance: Latino/A History In Motion." Centro Journal 16.2 (2004): 138-157. Academic Search Premier. Web. 17 May 2012.

Shay, Anthony. Dancing Across Borders: The American Fascination with Exotic Dance Forms. North Carolina: McFarland & Company, Inc., 2008.

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