The Scottish Fusion Retreat dance events are delightful residential fusion dancing community events in Scotland. One of the many things that I love about them is how good a job they do of enforcing the idea that a person’s gender is a) exactly what they say it is, b) not relevant to dance roles, or anything else other than how they are referred to, and c) not necessarily related to how they present.
The dress code at these events is “keep genitalia covered at all times outside of your room”. There used to be a caveat to that that it might be made more restrictive at the request of an attendee who was uncomfortable with it. Once, that attendee was me. I requested that everyone have to cover their nipples, on the basis that I didn’t think that Scottish Fusion events had the social authority to overrule the general societal rule that ‘female presenting nipples’ should always be covered. This made me uncomfortable, because it meant it was one more space where men and people who read as men could go around topless but I couldn’t, making me more aware of the gender I am perceived as than I want to be.
At some point that caveat got updated to say something like ‘extremely uncomfortable’. Afterwards I had a good chat with Nel, one of the organisers, about the reasons I was uncomfortable. I came out of that conversation convinced that either SFR actually does have that social authority, or it *should* have, and we, as a community, should be working to fix it if it doesn’t. So I decided that, the next time I attended an SFR event, I would spend a chunk of it topless.
The SFR events also include the role of ‘Dish Daddy’, which is a person who is in charge of whoever is volunteering for clean up duties. It’s a role that suits me down to a tee. And is usually done topless. A perfect opportunity.
When I first went topless while organising washing up, I was surprised at how uncomfortable it made me. This was, after all, something I had not only planned but looked forward to. I think the main thing that made me uncomfortable was seeing that it made other people uncomfortable. I decided that it was probably the kind of discomfort that leads to growth. After all, according to the stated ethos of the event that they bought into, there shouldn’t be any difference between seeing me topless and seeing other Dish Daddies topless. It didn’t take long at all for me to get comfortable with it, and for the folks around me to either get comfortable with it or get better at hiding their discomfort.
The first time I danced *after* having been washing up topless, I put my top back on. I figured that the discomfort that someone might feel being right up against a topless person of any gender in a non-sexual context (you will often get very close to your dance partner when doing fusion dancing) might not be the ‘useful discomfort that leads to growth’ kind. But the first person I danced with was the other Dish Daddy for the weekend, who was still topless, and said I could go ‘taps off’ (you need to imagine this in the accent of someone originally from New Zealand but living in Scotland for many years for full effect) if I wanted to, especially since he was. I took it back off. The next three or four people I danced with I offered to put my top back on for. When they all said no I stopped bothering.
People who have never done partner dancing while wearing skirts or dresses with a particular property might not know this, but there’s this amazing thing that happens when you twirl in one. Centripetal force takes over and it goes ‘swoosh’ out. It’s a feeling I have always loved. At some point on that first night I discovered that, if I get spun in a similar way while topless, I get a similar effect with my boobs. I was so delighted by this experience that I found the nearest person I knew to be an artist and commissioned them to draw the experience for me. Yes, I’m dressed as a pirate in the picture. I was at the time. That’s a whole other story.
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