How do you say Ballroom in German? (Part 1)
How an American subculture took Germany by storm, and what went wrong while it happened
German-American writer, performance artist and cultural curator Sophie Yukiko looks back on a decade of creating and experiencing Ballroom Culture in Germany. With a critical look on the reproduction of powerdynamics, she tries to find out what happened between 1980’s Harlem and today while diving into the conflicts and potentials of the German scene.
For those who hear the words Ballroom Culture without thinking about Foxtrot or Waltz, the associations evoked might be those of a popcultural revolution against intersectional discrimination, that also produced the art of voguing.
Born in New York City, the culture celebrated non-White queerness and trans identity in a way that made it possible to imagine spaces in which people, whose identities do not lie within the eurocentric, patriarchal norms of society, could come together to validate each other. To validate themselves among their own. A utopian promise in a western society. A space in which those are viewed as beautiful who are told in daily life, that they are not. Where people who experience rejection on a daily basis, are seen as desirable and worthy. A party without oppressors. A competition, finally fair for everyone who had to part take in rigged games all their lives. A space created and held by those who are most affected by multiple forms of discrimination. That exactly, is what makes a revolution. To change the rules. To take the sovereignty of interpretation.
No matter if a person witnesses a Ball by taking part in the actual competition by walking, or if they experience it as a spectator – the experience is one of a kind and fascinates people. Revolutions do that. Subcultures do that. They create this magnetic force that draws people in, like the shimmer of a treasure. Because something actually happens there. And at the end of the day, most people want to be able to say that they were there, when something happened. When history is being made. I have never seen a person indifferent to the confrontation with this culture. Nobody sees a person landing a dip – the signature movement of the dance voguing – and just shrug their shoulders to it.
The eye stays with the dancing body. Especially if the body isn’t White. Especially if the body isn’t cis. It is however important to identify the lens, through which one watches. How and why does it cause a reaction in the beholder? Is it because one sees themselves in the body or the dance? Is it because the dancing person is being exotified? Or is it because its mere existence is viewed as an audacity? Ballroom has an impact on people, no matter the reason.
I felt it myself when I first walked a Ball ten years ago. The Ball happened very far away from Ballroom’s origins in terms of time and space, but somehow, in some regards it came extremely close to its original idea and purpose. In hindsight, other regards seemed vague or displaced even. I loved it right away and didn’t lose a thought on authenticity and purpose. I walked without fully understanding why, and what exactly I did. Without thinking about who did it before me. And without thinking about what it meant, or if and how the meaning would change, when I did it. I think that most people who walk, do not dive deep into these thoughts by the time they enter the spaces of this culture. The arguments for taking part in it are emotional. Ballroom is a force, and people who decide that they want more of it, feel it strongly. Even if that force was not created by them. Or for them.
Black and LatinX Trans* People with mostly working-class backgrounds, created a competition for other queer Black and LatinX people. Heteronormative principles of success were queered by looking at those industries and parts of life that were way harder to access for queer People of Color. Fashion, beauty, dance, music industry, manager positions in finance – the pioneers of Ballroom formed categories derived from those exclusive parts of American culture. They created a system in which queer People of Color could now compete against each other – category by category – and proof to themselves and their kin, that they are talented, successful and creative. To me, this has always been an incredible example of queering an existing hierarchy and order. For me and many others, identifying as part of this culture is so important because there is a hope, that participating in this competition makes oneself part of this subversive tradition. But is participation really what makes one part of a culture? And if it isn’t – then what is? Performance? Ethnicity? Identity? Knowledge? Sexuality? Political sentiment? All the above? Or at least a few?
As many nuances of identity politics and struggles can easily be tied to Ballroom, finding reasons to justify why someone feels the need or necessity to integrate themselves into this culture or community is rather easy. No matter what walks of life a person comes from while stumbling upon the scene – if rejection or exclusion has been part of the life experience, in any shape or form, and the longing for some sort of validation has been carried around throughout it, Ballroom can feel extremely healing and motivating at first. Even for those who are not trans. Even for White people. Or straight people. Even for those who will never experience nor understand what it means to be a Black queer person in America.
Therefore it is not surprising that Ballroom is found all over the world today and practiced by people who live a very different reality than those who created what everybody loves so much. A need for this culture can be found from Rio to Taipei, Paris, Accra, Moscow or Berlin – even if a nuanced understanding of what created this culture might be missing.
Those who walk a Ball do it mainly because they seek a validation from their own, a sort of proof that the lies that they have been fed by the patriarchy, are not true and that their identity and talent indeed is meaningful. We want to be told that we are worthy. And Ballroom seems like a place to finally experience a relief from the anxiety and doubt that is caused by the absence of validation. And because the patriarchy doesn’t only lie to trans* and queer People of Color – White Queers and hetero people seek the chance for healing as well. The difference is that some people, don’t only have to fear for the absence of validation. Some people have to fear for their life because of their identity. This was always the case in the US. For many, this is the case in the European scene and it counts for Germany too.
A place at the heart of the culture is granted for those who are able to create moments on the floor. For that, a person needs confidence and courage. People who have to face micro aggression and intersectional discrimination everyday often times lack exactly those qualities and have to fight harder to not lose them. Ballroom is an important space for them, because by participating in a fair competition that does not resemble the daily experience of participating in an inherently racist and transphobic society, it holds the chance to restore something. In Germany however, the chance of creating this positive experience for those who need it the most, has been missed and put out of reach for those who needed it.