I Am The Serbian Dancing Lady
Who's afraid of the big bad woman dancing in the street?
Not too long ago, I encountered a number of people on social media who appeared to be terrified of a new “creature” that began to hijack their algorithms: the Serbian Dancing Lady. In what is believed to be the original video, a curious woman in a dimly lit street at night has her arms outstretched as she moves gently beneath the stars, not a care in the world other than to obey the natural impulses of her body.
The response from viewers was horror, terror, disgust, fear, and revulsion. Somehow, the video turned viral and evolved into an urban legend wherein the lady, upon being confronted by someone, would brandish a knife and chase them away. Then the whole thing became something even more goofy: The woman wasn’t even human!
Why so scared of a dancing lady, people? Why can’t a woman mind her own business and just sway in the street? Didn’t we have a joyous musical exaltation of the phenomenon, co-written by Marvin Gaye, called “Dancing in the Street” back in the ‘60s? The Serbian Dancing Lady is a woman moving her restless bones to music she hears in her soul. She’s a woman dancing in the moonlight so the open expanse of the universe can lead her in a gentle movement with the invisible currents of nature. She is a woman being herself. And the only thing her dancing has revealed is that those scared of her have the much more sinister affliction of being so numb inside that the mere image of a rhythmically moving woman is “creepy.”
Actually, maybe this is all a good thing. The Serbian Dancing Lady is said to have been engaged in a traditional folk dance called the kolo, which means “circle” or “wheel.” The dance involves a group of people who form a circle and rotate as a form of communal celebration. In fact, in 2017, UNESCO placed the kolo on the Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity. So yeah, it’s kind of a big deal. That said, however, I am not sure the “original” Serbian Dancing Lady is performing the kolo, because she appears to be standing mostly still -- she’s just swaying. But if it is the kolo, she is doing her part to keep the tradition alive, even if she’s just by herself. She is the circle: The circle is her.
Anyway, thinking about all of this while walking my dog one morning, I came across a succession of symbols that felt like they came directly from the ancestors on my Serbian dad’s side of the family. One was a red plastic heart resting conspicuously on a planter. “We love you,” it told me. Then, immediately to my left was a car with a license plate frame that read, “Dance is Life.” And finally, just a few steps ahead, was one of those paper tear-off flyers tied to a pole advertising a moving company. “We Move You,” it communicated to me.
So now, I’ve got news for some of you. I am going to be the Serbian Dancing Lady of North Hollywood. I’ll wear my earbuds, and when I take my dog out at night, I’ll dance to my playlist that includes “Thunderstruck” by AC/DC, “Poison” by Alice Cooper, and “Crazy Train” by Ozzy Osbourne. I won’t be brandishing a knife, but I will be carrying the snazzy pink stun gun my mom gave me as a gift a couple of years ago.
So watch out.
