So I Took the Salsa Plunge
Dancing is great. I’ve always enjoyed watching people dance, and as a teenager, I spent countless hours watching artists like Ian Eastwood, Parris Goebel & Royal Family, Sean Lew, and many more. I was also a huge fan of shows like America’s Best Dance Crew, So You Think You Can Dance, and World of Dance. Despite my deep appreciation for dance, I never actually danced myself or felt the urge to learn.
So, you can imagine my surprise when, while planning a trip to San Diego with a family friend to visit my cousin, she texted us, “On Friday, I want to take y’all to my favorite salsa dance club, so pack cute going-out clothes.” My first thought was, “How can I find a way to get out of this trip?” I never planned to cancel the trip, but the anxiety skyrocketed. I’m not someone who enjoys activities like this, and I’m the type to refuse to dance even when coaxed. So, willingly going to a salsa dance club is completely out of character for me.
Upon arriving in San Diego, my family friend and I had less than two hours to wind down, grab a bite to eat, get ready, and mentally prepare for the night ahead. The dance club that my cousin took us to offered a dance lesson an hour before the social dancing started, ensuring we wouldn’t go in completely unprepared. However, this did little to ease the anxiety I was feeling. Both my cousin and family friend had to endure my outward expressions of nervousness, even though I knew that once I was in the moment, I’d likely be fine. On the way to the club, I decided to use this experience as content for The 20-Something Files and write about stepping out of my comfort zone.
When we arrived at the club, my family friend and I met my cousin's friends, many of whom were also salsa dancing for the first time. This gave us a bit of comfort, knowing we weren’t alone in our beginner status. As the lesson started, men and women were separated on opposite sides of the dance floor. I naturally gravitated to the back, along with my cousin and family friend, and we began the lesson.
It wasn’t easy. The instructor, though thorough, was pressed for time and sped through the steps, making it difficult to keep up—especially for someone like me, whose dance experience is limited to a cute little two-step. I was following along to the best of my ability and trying to stay positive, but then the instructor announced, “Ladies, Gents, find yourself a partner.” And according to my cousin, I froze, as did my family friend. The women were in the inner circle, and the male partners rotated. There were more women than men, so I ended up dancing with women for my first few rotations, many of whom were also salsa dancing for the first time.
On each rotation, I made sure to introduce myself, ask for their names, and ask them if they were first-timers or not. Out of the 10+ men that I danced with, around half of them were salsa dancing for the first time. Each rotation got harder as more steps were introduced but I also felt a lot more comfortable. There was a lot of reassurance from both sides, I would check in with my partner and they’d do the same. Whether we got it wrong or right, we tried! We danced, had conversations, made mistakes together, and ultimately had a fun time.
Once the lesson ended, social dancing began. I quickly escaped the dance floor and found refuge in the restroom, where I chatted with other girls who were also salsa dancing for the first time. Afterward, men approached us, extending their hands to invite us to dance, but I made sure I appeared “busy”—either chatting with a friend, eating, or sipping my cocktail. I avoided the dance floor for an hour. I noticed when my family friend was asked to dance, she’d mention it was her first-time salsa dancing, and I decided to do the same when I finally gathered the courage to join in. Traditionally, in salsa dancing, the men lead and the women follow. My dance partner led confidently, offering me a mini-lesson as we moved together for the entire song. Despite my nerves, I couldn’t have asked for a better partner at that moment. After the song ended, I thanked him and promptly left the dance floor. Once was enough for me, but I was proud that I had given it a try.
We’re often encouraged to step out of our comfort zone and try new things. The familiar phrase, ‘You won’t know if you like it until you try it,’ is frequently echoed. While some people find satisfaction in sticking to what they know, others embrace the opportunity to explore and experiment.
After leaving the dance club that night, I was an incredibly different person from the Zoe who once considered canceling a trip to San Diego just to avoid dancing. I unexpectedly had a fun time and felt grateful to my cousin for pushing my family friend and me to try salsa dancing. While I’m not passionate about dancing or inclined to make it a hobby, I’ve become a bit more open to participating in such activities. Sometimes all it takes is a bit of exposure therapy to change your perspective.
