There is a beautiful moment of pure joy when the DJ at Rubies on Five Points decides to put on your song. It usually elicits a quiet and quick gasp from me, often dragging friends to the front and center. It’s a small bar that sacrifices space for a perfect dance floor. Streamers glint and glimmer like silver rain indoors. A smile never leaves my face as we all dare each other to enter the center of the dance circle.
The center of the dance floor is like a spotlight, a stage. I remember my heart racing the first time I stepped into that spotlight. I was afraid of making a fool of myself, of not being good enough. But I pushed through, and it was one of the most liberating experiences of my life. It was a moment of triumph over my fears—a step towards embracing my true self—someone who loves dancing.
Not everyone is ready for the center of the dance floor, and it might not be prepared for you. The audience rewards authenticity and honesty and honors the courage to take up space and do something with it. There are rituals to know, like the unspoken rule of not stepping on someone’s toes, and laws to respect, such as knowing when you’ve been in the spotlight for too long.
On the dance floor, I am in tune with my body. I am working with the crowd. I am a part of rituals and sacred steps. I am wholly myself because there is no faking the spark that is palpable to all those around you when you let yourself go in the music. When I can feel the bass in my throat and the amoebic groups on the dance floor allow me to take up more than a square foot of space, that is freedom. It’s a place where I feel accepted and celebrated for who I am.
A boss-ass bitch who can fuck up a dance floor.
At this point in the year, I’ve been at the club more weekends than not. The shoes I dance in have split from the heel and desperately need more super glue. My getting-ready playlist is polished and ready at any moment. I have gathered crowds and have split my pants more than once in an effort to convince those around me that I can still do the splits. I have danced on stages, tables, and in living rooms. One of the only places I have ever found true peace is on the dance floor.
Folks on the floor don’t always know my name, but they see more of who I am than most. They see my courage, joy, and freedom. Their reactions, a mix of admiration and celebration, sometimes fear that this is the night my knees give out, have been a testament to the power of self-expression. I hope these spaces for joy and light continue to persist in these years ahead because I know I will need any iota of joy I can get.
Izzy Nunez graduated from Calvin in 2022 after studying graphic design and sociology. Today she lives in Durham, North Carolina where she is a graphic designer for Duke University. She is growing to love Durham and all its southern charm even if she complains that its breakfast choices aren’t as good as they are in the Grand Rapids.
