The Croissant, The Lindy Hop Survival Guide and The Joy (and Reality) of Community!
Walking in the sun with a croissant au chocolat in hand, I decided it was the perfect moment to sit on a bench facing the beautifully greenish Seine. This was one of those moments—the kind that belong in a French film where the protagonist (me) contemplates life’s small joys. La joie de vivre! If you can enjoy eating alone in a new country, it’s probably a very good day!
Dancing alone? I love moving on my own terms, in my own rhythm. But let’s be honest—sometimes, dancing is better when you’ve got a partner who’s on the same wavelength. Someone who shares your energy, your goals, and, most importantly, has that groove!
Which brings me to my recent experience at a Lindy Hop prelim at a festival. Ah, the joys of competition! While the MC said: “Each round, the followers need to run and find a leader to dance with”!
Wait, what! Run?
So, let me get this straight—you’re telling me this is no longer a dance competition but an episode of The Hunger Games: Swing Edition? Where success is not determined by skill or even sheer chance, but by social connections and the ability to grab a leader before anyone else does?
And, of course, in a scene already known for being leader-oriented, here we were, mainly female dancers, told to chase after a partner. The experience was so bad if like me, you:
Didn’t know enough leaders in the scene.
Stood frozen in shock at the announcement.
Had zero interest in aggressively fighting for a dance partner like it was the last pain au chocolat at a bakery.
So what happens if you don’t sprint like one of those childhood games? Simple—you don’t make it to the finals. Because apparently, to be noticed, you have to be aggressive. Is that really true, though? Or is it just another format designed to reinforce the idea that visibility comes not from skill alone, but from knowing the right people and being willing to elbow your way to the front?
I don’t have the answer. But I do know one thing—I’d rather sit by the Seine with my croissant than tackle another round of Swing Survivor.
Ah, the joy of being part of a community! There’s something magical about dancing together, moving to the music we love, sharing moments of connection on the dance floor. But lately, I’ve been wondering—does that alone make us a real community?We know each other, sure—some from different corners of the world, some from the latest festival, some from the ever-growing list of reels showcasing the newest flashy moves. We know who’s winning competitions, who’s teaching where, and who’s making waves in the scene. But beyond that—do we actually care about each other?
Do we look out for one another beyond class numbers, student rosters, and festival lineups? Do we prioritise respect, solidarity, and genuine support? Or is it sometimes more about securing the next big thing—whether that’s a leader to dance with, a class to teach, or a competition title to win?
Maybe it’s just the way things naturally evolve. Or maybe, as we celebrate the joy of dance, we should also ask ourselves: how do we make sure our community is more than just a collection of great dancers?
(Sorry didn’t take a photo of the croissant, but here is a photo of my galette)