Galas and Line Dancing

By Managing Editor: Joshua Brown 

She told us, in a mother’s tone, that we as lawyers can’t be the only black people sitting through line dances. It would be unbecoming; so we practiced the steps three more times, right there in the foyer. 

   Last month I wrote an article reflecting on my recent trip to St. Louis and the thoughts I came home with. This is a continuation of that line of thinking, posing more questions on the intersection of racial and professional identities. 

   Booming through the car speakers was “Murder to Excellence” by Jay Z and Kanye West. It seemed the most fitting song to cruise to as Rhodes Tower grew into behemoth over the Superior Avenue horizon. 

   I was driving toward campus wearing an old tuxedo I found on Ebay a few weeks back. I was dressed for CSU|Law’s Black Law Student Association’s annual banquet, held on the evening of March 21, in the Glasscock Ballroom. Marcia Fudge, former Secretary of Housing and Urban Development and 1983 graduate of Cleveland Marshall College of Law, served as keynote speaker on the theme of “More Than Two Percent: Honoring the Legacy of Black Women in Law.” Secretary Fudge spoke dynamically of the achievements of black women lawyers and the hurdles they overcome in the past and present.  

   I was also asked to write a poem on the theme and perform it during the event. In the poem I aimed to liken black women lawyers to one of the most potent symbols of American endurance, the eagle. The eagle is universally celebrated, chronicled, and preserved because of the virtues and strength that it symbolizes. I see that black women lawyers, through their overcoming institutional barriers, embody the same virtues and are deserving of recognition. The text of the poem can be found at the URL below if you wish to read it. 

   The banquet was attended by students, administrators, alumni, as well as students from Case Western Reserve University School of Law and University of Akron School of Law. From each background there were familiar faces, people who cross paths at conferences, networking events, and jobsites. Having so many of us in one room, it felt like a family reunion. Truly, the banquet carries a resemblance to family reunions in its boisterous collection of characters and how little hiccups are gracefully looked over. When I stumbled through swearing in the next executive board, I felt almost no embarrassment among friends.  

   The night concluded with nearly endless chatting and catching up before we set out for the W. 25^th Street bars to dance and celebrate into the early morning. 

   The next weekend, many of our BLSA members supported Case Western’s BLSA chapter at their Black Ties Gala. The event was located at Windows on the River on the west bank of the flats. We communed with our neighbors down Euclid and enjoyed another night of beautiful dress, fellowship, and dancing. 

   These events and mutual showings of support highlight the unity and interconnectivity of the black legal community in Cleveland, but they also showcase the importance of celebrations within it. These moments are among the few occasions where we can make ourselves at home on a grand scale. They create environments that affirm self-determination and self-significance among individuals working in predominantly white spaces. These events also incorporate the traditional elements of black celebrations, such as collectively singing “Lift Every Voice and Sing” and dancing to Tamia’s “Can’t Get Enough.” 

   The communal performances of song, dance, and spoken word become rituals through their regular iterations at black social gatherings. It could be viewed as sacred while also remaining inclusive for anyone to come as they are. These activities also demand participation from all who are present. Activities like prayers, songs, and line dances are meant to be performed by the room in unison, though they require knowledge of the words or steps. Getting that knowledge can be a hurdle for some, myself included. 

   Growing up, I was someone who never wanted to dance at family reunions and similar events. I didn’t know the steps to the line dances, and I told myself that I didn’t like dancing anyway. I may have been overcome by fear of any attention that mistakes might bring. I endured the lonely feeling of when “Can’t Get Enough” or “Some Enchanted Evening” by the Temptations came on and everyone rushed to the dance floor except for me. From the outside, the footwork seemed too complicated to learn on the spot, so I never learned. 

   Although it's rare to get any admonishment from refusing to dance, there are still consequences, including alienation from friends and family during one of the strongest moments of connection. Also, it takes away an opportunity to make new friendships and integrate into unfamiliar spaces. The songs and dances are so ubiquitous among black gatherings that even among complete strangers, it can be expected that certain line dance songs will be played and everyone will be encouraged to participate. 

   For black lawyers who live and work in predominantly white spaces, knowing our cultural rituals helps us to remain rooted in our black identity and may prevent alienation and otherization from different black social groups. At family reunions, dancing can cut through the reputation of being overly bookish or uppity. Line dancing may be a way to remind ourselves and others that we come from a similar heritage and that we find pride in that shared history. 

   I’m still a ways away from being completely comfortable line dancing, but at the Black Ties Gala, I did stumble through “Can’t Get Enough” with enough composure to not run away and hide. I came away with more confidence to jump into the line dances and the next event, whatever that may be, because I recognize that the little hiccups will be gracefully looked over. There is no room on the dance floor to be anything other than friends. As I continue, my goal is to find dancing as a place of comfort because that is what it was made to be. The next thing I need to do is learn how to play spades. 

Read my poem “More Than Two Percent” at https://open.substack.com/pub/joshuabro/p/more-than-two-percent