Spanish for Sauce

It has been 18 months since I last went to a Salsa class. In that time, I've been mulling over whether I would return when it became possible.

My absence would please a few people. The guy who, for reasons known only to him, would step in and interrupt whenever he saw me talking to a woman - he'd be happy. Actually, I had him pretty much figured out. I had to be happy with just telling myself he was a terrible human being, rather than outwardly shouting at him that women were allowed to talk to anyone they wanted to talk to. I sincerely hope I'm wrong about where his behaviour will lead him.

There's also a particular group of lady dancers from North West Wales, who took it upon themselves to decide who would stay in the scene and who wouldn't. I was just one of the dancers (both men and women) they targeted. Unfortunately, their continual quest to gain power within the scene went unnoticed, and the ringleaders now teach (not a good development, as I have seen one of them repeatedly misdirecting men she doesn't like).

Over and above the issues with individuals, the real problem is that the scene is inherently gynocentric and prone to misandry. I've heard statements of female superiority made by dancers and instructors alike. There is a tendency to shame men for the slightest of errors, which comes from many of the lady dancers but also some instructors. From the beginners' class onward, there is also the oft-repeated belief that a dance is a bad dance wholly because of the man. Women are, by way of contrast, almost universally praised, even if it is not deserved. When you see a woman leading another woman, the reaction from those gathered would have you believe it is a piece of artistry the likes of which has never been seen before.

This idea that women can do no wrong leads to some unpleasant exchanges. After four years of dancing, I had a woman who had been learning to dance for about two months tell me I was no good. I had a woman, during a class, stiffen her arm so it could not be moved gently from the wrong position. She then loudly complained that I didn't know what I was doing and, embarrassingly, asked another man (during a quiet moment of the class) to show me how to do the movement correctly.

I could go on. The point is, I have countless reasons for extending the enforced break from dancing to a permanent break. One of the few friends I had in the scene expressed anti-white sentiment during the break too.

There are reasons to return, but none of them are rational; rather, they come from emotive reasoning. Chief among those is that it feels good to dance. The quiet drive along dark roads, especially when returning home after midnight, felt good too. Maybe that one is a personality quirk. I liked the venue too. Well, the classes seem to have switched to a new venue now, at least temporarily. The structure of the evening seems to have changed too.

Maybe that's a part of my reluctance to join them again. Things change, and though they sometimes change for the better, sometimes they don't. Dancing is allowed again, but maybe it doesn't feel safe to me yet. Maybe it won't ever feel safe again.