This evening me and my friend and dance partner Janie volunteered as dancers for a college film student’s final project. And whereas we didn’t know exactly what we were getting ourselves into (well, to be fair, what I was getting us into, since I’m the one who responded to the student’s social media call for dancers and, as Janie says, I’m always getting us into things), we did know that we were supposed to be swing dancing. “Come on, it’ll be fun,” I said. “Swing dancing! That’s what we do.”

Well.

You know how you make assumptions about HOW things are going play out? Like, when Janie and I originally singed up for this gig, I thought there was going to be a band. Because there was something said about a band on the “ideas for costumes” Pinterest board that was sent out. But last night when we got the list of people who were going to be there today–no band. “We’ll be playing an instrumental track while y’all are dancing,” the student said when me and Janie and the other two dancing couples arrived this evening. And whereas I THOUGHT about asking if we could hear the track first (because twenty years of dancing experience has taught me that what the general public thinks is swing music and what I think is swing music are two different things), I didn’t. Rather, I kept my mouth shut.

I thought, Just roll with it, Marcus. Even though I’m not a roller.

Well, when the time came for us to warm up, the student played the music, and it was–um, honestly, in a word–awful. Now, I don’t mean that the music itself, which was some type of–I don’t know–electric funk, was awful, just that it was awful for swing dancing to. “I think we could west coast,”I said, west coast being more modern or contemporary than Lindy Hop or East Coast. “It’s really more of a cha cha,” Janie said, cha cha, of course, being Latin. Finally, we decided we could SLOW Lindy Hop to the music, although we also decided that if we did we’d stick out like a sore thumb because the other two couples were doing FAST east coast.

Now, I know these words and terms may not make sense to a non-dancer. Suffice it to say that just like every kitchen recipe has certain ingredients that can’t be taken out or changed without changing the intended dish or outcome, so too does every dance require 1) certain staple moves or patterns executed in a particular fashion and 2) a proper corresponding beat. For example, you can’t dance a salsa (which is based on 4 or 8 count patterns) to waltz music (which is played and counted in 3s or 6s). Well, you CAN, but then you’re not really dancing salsa, are you? You’re just doing salsa MOVES, which you could just as easily do WITHOUT MUSIC.

All this to say that I finally spoke up, in private to the student. “I’m having a problem,” I told them. “This isn’t swing music.” Thankfully, they were very gracious, explaining that the music had been made by another student (and was therefore copyright free), and it was the best they could do. “Okay,” I said. “Do you want us to do swing dancing to this music, or do another type of dance that’s better suited for it?”

“Do what you’re most comfortable doing,” she said. Which I appreciated, but then we were back to the sore thumb problem, doing something different than the other two couples.

Not long after this exchange, the student told all of us, “Since we’ll be editing the footage and adding in the music later anyway, we could easily play another song.” Phew, I thought, but the other song they played was just as difficult to dance to. Way too fast. Albeit it WAS more swingy. “Should I say something AGAIN?” I asked Janie. “Well,” she said, “you might as well. You’re already that person.”

Right?

So I did.

“I’m really not trying to take over,” I said, “I just feel like everyone’s dancing will be better if we can find a song we can all agree on.” And whereas I offered up my playlist, the student selected another song from their phone and said, “What about this song?” Well, I didn’t think it was fabulous, but I did think it was a solid option. Definitely the best so far. Indeed, all six of us dancers nodded our heads in agreement. We can dance to this. So that was it. The rest of the evening went swell. After a short rehearsal we broke for dinner, then came back and danced our little tails off while the film crew (one guy) shot us from several different angles as the new song blared in the background on repeat.

Y’all, I’ve been thinking a lot about this, whether I SHOULD have spoken up, since doing so made me feel a bit like a dick. Granted, not enough of a dick to NOT speak up at all, which is what I would have done five or ten years ago. Indeed, the other (younger) couples later told me that they were struggling with the original song too, and yet no one else said anything. Which is why I know I SHOULD have spoken up. Sure, it would have been out of line to start commenting about the writing, the lighting, the camera angles, or what was for dinner. (Why, Marcus?) Because that stuff is someone else’s business. But dancing? That’s my business. Not only because this is my profession, but also because I was asked to be there AS A DANCER, a swing dancer. And if the music being played keeps me from being able to, well, swing dance, I have a right to–politely–speak up.

Now, instead of being creative and accommodating, the student could have said, “Live with it.” At which point I could have lived with it. Or tried again. Or said, “I can’t work like this” and stormed out like a diva. My point being that you always have options. Especially if something you’re volunteering for and that’s meant to be fun isn’t, you always have options. You don’t just have to bite you’re tongue. You’re can speak up and be heard. Even if you’re not agreed with or don’t get things completely your way (which, by the way, you never will), you don’t have to suffer in silence. You can say, “Something seems off here.” Your voice is as valid as anyone else’s.