House of waacks
I drag my ass to Downtown Oakland for the third day in a row, but it’s for a good cause. Me, my wife Helen, and my friend Alex are going to the GQ Ball, a fundraiser for legendary Bay Area native dancer Gbari Gilliam, who recently had a heart transplant. The event brings together three of Gbari’s many dance communities: house, waacking, and vogue.
I’m in, at most, half of one of these communities. I’ve been taking house dance classes on and off for about a year and have just now started going to parties. I am pretty good at authentic jazz dance, which is a grandparent of house. (I can’t do a full history here, but authentic jazz is a Black American dance that originated in the 1920s. House, waacking, and vogue are all dances created by Black Americans, queer Black Americans, especially, in the latter half of the twentieth century.) I pick up new movements pretty quickly, which outs me as some kind of dancer in classes and sessions, so people tend to talk to me, if only to ask me about my dance background. Thus, even with my limited experience, I know some people here.
It’s my first time at a battle—as a spectator. Helen, Alex, and I walk into Fluid510 and realize immediately that most people are here to compete. There’s a half hour until proceedings start and the floor is full of mini-cyphers, everyone warming up together with an air of friendly competition.
The music has to strike a balance. Most house dancers tend toward deep, soulful house, and waacking (from what I can tell) is rooted in disco. There’s a lot of room for play, and DJs Karlita and Bloom are playing hard.
Clips of Gbari play on screens all night. It’s hard to believe all the clips are of the same dancer; he’s dancing some hardcore footwork, then teaching an intense house combo, then performing a softer, more feminine piece against a projected backdrop of a meadow. Even as someone who doesn’t know him, it’s clear from craft alone why he has the respect of so many communities.
The first half of the night is a house and waacking battle. For the warmups and the prelims, everyone’s on the floor together, distinguished by wristbands: blue for house, yellow for waacking.
You can tell who’s who by watching, though: House is a full-body flow dance, footwork simultaneously rooted in the ground and gliding along it, and waacking focuses on articulated upper body, arm, wrist, and head work (though these dancers put in serious footwork, too). And while there’s some overlap on the floor, most of the cyphers are sticking with their own people.
The social divide persists as proceedings begin. The MC for the night is Bay Area house legend Rama Mahesh Hall. I learned later through his Instagram that this is his first MC gig, and you’d never know it: He’s likable, enthusiastic, clear, and keeps things moving. Prelims are “party-style,” which means everyone’s competing at once. It takes twenty minutes: In the first ten, judges pick five dancers from each style who go directly to finals. In the second ten, they pick a handful of semi-finalists, who go on to dance a last chance showcase for a chance at one of the three remaining spots per style.
One of the few people I know at this event is Chris, a house and samba dancer who I met when he showed up in a Lindy Hop class I was teaching and where, like me in the beginner house class, he immediately stood out as someone who could already move. He goes directly to finals, and it’s easy to see why: Few dancers in this field have as much ease and confidence on the floor. Having watched a lot of Lindy Hop and jazz contests, it’s pretty easy for me to spot who the other top contenders are. I focus instead on who I want to make it into the knockout. A guy I recognize from sessions, whose name is David, I think, and who’s got a smooth, playful, less refined style, makes it to the last-chance round and I’m thrilled.
Another dancer who shows up in the last-chance round is a dancer named Zone. I know even less about waacking than I know about house, but I expected this dancer to go straight to finals. No one in that room moves like them: Where most of the waacking finalists are young, small women moving a lot, Zone’s a decade older and has got three to six inches on a lot of them. They move less, but with incredible intention. To see them relegated to fighting for their life almost offends me.
In the last-chance round, each dancer gets forty-five seconds to show their stuff, and the judges pick three dancers in each style to go to finals right then. It’s the first time I see the house dancers and the waackers next to each other, and it’s fun to see the differences in sartorial style. One waacker is in perfect 2002 Julia Stiles drag, à la Save The Last Dance. (She doesn’t make it, sadly.) Where the waackers favor tight tops that show off their arm movement, house dancers are wearing flowier clothing that trails as they move. Zone makes it to the finals by outclassing all of them and getting the most cheers from the crowd. David puts on a good show but doesn’t get picked.
In between all these rounds, the floor is open to dance. This is how Lindy Hop contests work, too. The dancing that happens between contests is some of my favorite dancing to do, and a lot of what makes that dancing good translates to what’s happening tonight. After watching a good contest, contestants are juiced on adrenaline and it’s contagious. Everyone’s inspired, and everyone just wants to dance, and the dancing only gets better as the night goes on. I get out there a little, but mostly I’m just watching. It’s a treat to watch the everyday dynamics of a community that I’m not part of. People dance on their own, dance over to their friend and jam as pairs, dance in cyphers taking turns in the middle.
Before finals, the judges take a turn on the floor: Lauren B., Jardy Santiago, Shinobi Jaxx, G-Funk, and the mononymous Alice. I love it. I want to make Lindy Hop judges do this so badly.
Finals begin. Twenty minutes ago, contestants were randomly partnered up, one dancer per style per partnership. They’ve spent the time since then feeling out each others’ vibe. The format: forty-five seconds per dancer; the waackers share a song and the house dancers share a song. Who goes first? Whoever’s feeling it. Then the judges pick who stays.
My friend Chris makes it to finals, and pretty handily. His partner, Sandji, has incredible musicality, and is a good complement to his style. After a tiebreaker, Zone makes it to finals with house dancer Hippie, who’s got a likable stage presence that’s a good foil to Zone’s stone-faced, hypercompetent style.
Zone is competing on another plane. Where most contestants interact with each other, Zone stands perfectly still as their waacking opponent takes their turn, moving only to show disapproval (rare and cutting) or approval (even rarer). It’s intimidating as fuck, it’s well within the spirit of the game, and it works.
This means my two favorites are pitted against each other, and it’s a battle to the fucking death. Chris does a little waacking in Zone’s face and gets a perfect little finger wag in response. Zone and Hippie win and it’s close, but as they say, as the audience we’re all winners. Zone takes the mic and reveals they haven't battled in a while, but came because they and Gbari go way back, and they miss getting their ass kicked by him. They encourage everyone to donate more, emphasizing the importance of community support when you’re in such a vulnerable position as a dancer who’s recovering from a heart transplant. It’s very moving. (Here’s the GoFundMe again.)
After the contest, Chris finds me, Helen, and Alex, still obviously full of adrenaline. He used to see Zone all the time in LA and they’re a wonderful person and they’re exactly as intimidating to battle as it seemed, he says. Hippie, too, has been an important figure for Chris, and he says that pair really got his nerves up. You’d have never known it, and I tell him so.
As this part of the night winds down, the floor starts filling up with people who are here for the second part of the night: vogue mini-ball put on by Oakland to All. Immediately a circle opens up and people are voguing. Limited by BART, I didn’t get to stay for the whole ball, so I can’t honestly vibe report it, and reporting what I stayed for would take another 1,500 words. Suffice it to say: If you’ve never been to an event by Oakland to All, you haven’t really lived. I leave regretfully after one-and-a-half rounds for the second-to-last train, wanting more than anything to dance.