Is Dance the Medicine We’re All Ignoring?
- Christina Redondo
- 6 days ago
- 7 min read
After learning what we’ve discussed in Post #1 and #2 of this series, It’s easy to see why spontaneous dance feels out of reach.
What is harder to see, however, is the deep impact its absence has on us - on our social connections, the strength of our communities, and our collective mental health.
Without communal dance, we’ve lost more than a thing to do on the weekends. We’ve lost a sense of collective safety, a sense of ceremony, and a sense of culture.
If this sounds dramatic, that's because it is. These these are not small losses. This stuff is the glue that holds us together. Just look around. Disconnection is everywhere, and people are aching for something more.
Collective Safety
In Barbara Ehrenreich’s book Dancing in the Streets: A History of Collective Joy, she dives into the deep, evolutionary roots of dance. Why do humans even dance at all?
We all know the go-to reasons - to celebrate, to mark the seasons, etc (which are equally true and important, that’s coming in the next section). But let's talk about the survival-level stuff, how dance helped our ancestors build trust, form bonds, and quite literally stay alive. And how that same power is still available to us today.
Before humans could even speak, we had many ways of bonding non-verbally. In small groups, we would play games, groom each other, be physically intimate, cook together, etc.
But in large groups, these activities become impossible unless you split into smaller groups. For groups of 30 people or larger, scholars call dance “the biotechnology of group formation” - it is the quickest, easiest, most universal way for groups to bond and create intimacy together. You don’t need language, skill, or to even get along with everyone. Dancing together helps people synchronize physically, emotionally and neurologically without needing to speak a word.
Why would we even need group intimacy at that scale? In today’s Western world, there is a huge gap in our understanding of intimacy: we’ve been taught it can only be found in romance (and let’s be real, even that’s a struggle). Family and friendships are undervalued. Neighbors are strangers. So the idea of bonding with a whole group could be a big leap, and can feel unnecessary or even cult-ish.
When we lived out in nature, an intimately connected group was a safer group - stronger, bigger, harder to attack, less easy prey. A well-bonded group could move together, protect one another, even sense danger as a single unit. Like a flock of birds or a school of fish, we could take on the appearance of one big strong creature, rather than lots of vulnerable little ones.
We built that cohesion through dance. Dancing together was the playground, the training ground, that made this synchronicity our natural reflex when it mattered.
The powerful truth is, it didn’t just create outward safety (us vs. predators), but inward safety too (I feel safe here. With these people). Dancing is vulnerable - you let your body be silly, wild, unguarded. You risk being seen. That’s why we’re afraid of it. In essence, dancing communicates the same thing as a dog rolling over and showing you his belly - Here are my soft parts, I trust you not to hurt me.
This is how collective safety is cultivated. Can you see why this would pose such a threat to those who seek to control us? (See Post #2)
Ceremony
When dance is done with intention, especially in community, something beautiful happens: it becomes ceremony.
Sure, there are other ways to enact ceremony without dance. But when a group gathers to dance just for the sake of dancing - and does so with the shared intention of connection - something shifts.
It’s a bit like making love. You can go through the motions, or you can slow down, pause, and honor (verbally or not): this is about love. About presence. About seeing and being seen. That moment of intention transforms the act. You lose yourself in it. Your ego steps aside. You’re no longer performing, you’re flowing.
The same is true with dance. With intention, it becomes medicine. It becomes sacred. Maybe you’ve felt that spark before at a concert, singing in a choir, chanting at a sporting event, an assembly at summer camp… that sort of trippy feeling where you’re like woah, this feels really special.
Some of the most meaningful reasons we can gather to dance in this way is to celebrate or to grieve. A new baby being born, a huge life achievement, or the death of a loved one, or collective tragedy - these are things that words can’t fully hold. If you’ve ever tried congratulating or comforting someone on these occasions, you know that your words fall short of the meaning you feel.
These are times when dancing becomes essential, to tap into this bigger feeling. Especially in times of upheaval, like war, or collective trauma, we need more than logic - we need that trippy-summer-camp feeling. This is how we regulate the collective nervous system, by moving and processing together.
But most of us don’t have that. We don’t grieve together. And we carry the weight of the world alone, because we aren’t finding ways to hold it together. We don’t even dance together on the good days. We feel one-note because we aren’t being seen regularly in our joy. We go numb. We feel dull. Disconnected. Maybe even irritable. Like something is missing, but we’re not sure what it is.
Culture
Shared culture is another one of those things we’re all aching for, but unable to name.
Think of a time when you’ve had a conversation with someone new, and you land on a topic you’re both familiar with. Maybe they quote a movie, and you finish the quote. They go, “No way! You like that movie too?” and you laugh wildly. This person somehow feels like less of a stranger now.
That connection - that’s what culture feels like. It’s the invisible thread that ties us to one another, a bond that can’t be explained but only felt.
That moment when someone “gets the reference” holds a lot of significance. It says, okay cool, you’re seeing what I see, and it’s relieving and comforting to be reminded that we’re not just floating through life in isolation.
It feels a bit silly to even describe this, but for most Americans, many of our cultural ties come from media (movies, cartoons, viral videos). We feel connected to people when they’ve seen or enjoyed the same stuff we do.
But lately, even that thread is fraying. Streaming platforms have fractured the media we once used to share. Everything is curated to our personal tastes now, which is great for finding things that truly resonate, but it also creates a paradox: the more tailored our worlds become, the less we share them with others.
I’m not saying we all have to give up our favorite shows, but we need something that brings us together across age, identity, and personal taste - something we can share even if we have nothing else in common. In every culture throughout history (and still today in much of the world) what connects people isn’t just media. It’s music, rhythm, and dance.
I didn’t fully understand just how powerful that kind of connection could be until I started following along on social media, like some of you, with the genocide going on in Palestine.
Even with bombs going off in the background, as displaced communities are mourning the unthinkable and fearing for their lives, the Palestinian people are still gathering to dance their traditional folk dance called dabke.
The sheer bravery and resilience this takes - to come together despite the pain, to choose to smile, laugh and dance in the face of danger - is powerful beyond words.
Watching this, and the breathtaking work of Body Watani (a Palestinian-rooted movement practice created by sisters Leila and Noelle Awadallah), touches a deep place in my soul. It’s made me realize how much we’ve lost this thread in the West, and how much we’re aching for it, even if we can’t name what it is.
Is Dance the Medicine We’re All Ignoring?
As you can see - these are big topics. And sure, we’ve managed to function without collective safety, ceremony, and shared culture.
But ask yourself honestly - are we really doing okay?
We can all feel that something is missing. And now we can begin to name it:
-Trust and trustworthiness among neighbors
-A way to celebrate, grieve, and make meaning together
-A shared culture that lives in our hearts and bodies, not just on a screen
-And woven through it all: spontaneous dance.
So, “Is dance the medicine we’re all ignoring?”
The more I look around, and within, the more I believe the answer is yes.
The good news is, there’s a real formula for collective ecstasy, and it's worked for centuries. (More on that in a future post). Whether it still works in today's world, with all the shame, self-consciousness, and social fragmentation we carry, is a fair question. And I'm on a mission to find out.
For now, I’m curious - have you felt this ache? A yearning for deeper connection? A desire to feel fully alive and a part of something bigger?
For you: if you'd like to keep reading -
*This is Post 3 of a larger Series: The Dance We're Missing.
Posts 1-3 describe what's going on:
Is Dance the Medicine We're All Ignoring? (this post)
Posts 4-5 make it personal:
Posts 6-8 explore the way forward (coming soon):
How to Make the Dance Floor Safe Again
The Formula for Collective Ecstasy
Are You Partying Enough?
