The Seattle Freeze! Sounds scary, doesn’t it? I’m not talking about a strange weather event. I’m not even talking about a normal one. I’m talking about a social phenomenon. I suppose very city has its own social phenomenon, and Seattle has the Seattle Freeze. What is the Seattle Freeze? The term has a loose definition. As I understand, it has to do with a Seattlelite’s polite exterior, hiding a frozen core averse to personal connection. One of my students described it as “Seattleites are the nicest, most polite rude people.” I can’t tell if it’s real. After all, I’m from Seattle. For me, if it does exist, I suppose I would just call it normal.
“It’s not that people here are unfriendly,” states the definition on Urban Dictionary, “they will hold the door for you and wave you into traffic and stuff like that, it’s that everything is maddeningly impersonal.” Read more about Urban Dictionary’s description of the Seattle Freeze here.
So if the Seattle Freeze is real, what does that mean for Ballroom Dancing? After all, we’re talking about an activity that requires two people to have an intimate interaction. Is dancing effected by the Seattle Freeze? One of my youth students, whom for the sake of his privacy we’ll call “Nate”, weighed in with a thought-provoking essay he wrote for a school assignment.
Ballroom Dancing and the “Seattle Freeze”
Seattleites are the nicest, most polite rude people. Seattleites open doors for you, wave you across the intersection, and trip over each other giving up their seats to the elderly on the bus.
But they refuse to make eye contact in public, take up the entire table for themselves at Starbucks, and almost never call you back about that promised hiking trip.
This phenomenon is known as the “Seattle Freeze.”
Meeting Seattleites and connecting with them is challenging. Yet, as a ballroom and latin dancer of ten years, I frequently interact with people of the same as well as opposite sex—physically and emotionally. Over time, as I learned to establish trust and emotional connections, I developed a set of boundaries different than those of many Seattleites. Now, I love the almost supernatural high of dancing with someone who’s also fully confident to trust me with themselves: we become one mind, perfectly in sync.
However, I’m still judged for my dancing. Many assume that dance isn’t platonic, or that touching others is creepy. People “freeze” up instead of just dancing: “Should I dance with this person? Does this mean anything? What will others say?” Anxiety takes over.
Even my friends can’t lower their boundaries when I ask them to come dancing:
“Sounds weird.”
“I don’t dance with strangers.”
“I like you just as a friend.”
I find this ridiculous. Dancing is about experimenting and playing around, experiencing a side of a stranger that is normally hidden. A deeper, yet momentary connection forms. Your mind and soul, usually separated in school or the office, come out as one: you “unfreeze.” Despite being interconnected, on the floor you can open yourself as little or as much as you want. The beauty is that there are no words. The only language that matters is the beat of the music and the movement of the bodies.
The “freeze” takes on a physical form when a person new to dancing gingerly takes their partner’s hand; shoulders up and tense, pursed lips, avoiding eye contact. Dancing with “frozen” people is difficult, yet I enjoy expanding their boundaries and breaking the iceberg—one person at a time.
Some blame the “freeze” on the weather or the IT industry. I believe it’s because the Seattle that was swept off its feet by the grunge revolution, connecting people with the power of music, no longer exists. Now, those who listened to grunge are middle-aged parents who’ve moved into the suburbs with their mortgage and two kids. We’re told that Seattle is growing and diversifying. In reality, we’re slowing down, “icing over.”
The “freeze” is still around me, but dance has taught me to make the most of it by letting people past my boundaries. I look people in the eye as I pass by. I offer a seat at my table in the crowded coffee shop, and never bail on promised hiking trips. And maybe, just maybe, someone will ask me to come dancing with them.
A Dance Teacher’s Opinion
Personally I thought the essay a unique perspective on dance in terms of a social structure. I was proud that Nate was able to express his love for dancing so eloquently. He also made me think, which is impressive for a high school student. I’m not really into pop culture that much, and this entire notion of the Seattle Freeze is definitely a pop culture idea. I had never heard of it before he came to ask my opinion about the essay. But as I started to think more about it, I realized that I actually might suffer from this freeze myself.
The Freeze and Me
Most people who know me would describe me as an extrovert. But as I said above, I’m not a pop-culture kind of girl. I don’t like Apple specifically because everyone else likes it. I tend to hate pop music – although I do admit I like Sia. And I do find myself sometimes shy. It sounds like a funny thing to say, especially for those who know me. But surrounded by people I don’t know, I find it hard to connect. I am not good at small talk. Simeon is amazing! I’ve always been in awe of how easy he finds it to make chit-chat. Me? Not so much. Once we get into a conversation, I could go all night. History, string theory, languages, nutrition… you can’t shut me up! But I find chit-chat hard.
So after reading Nate’s essay, I started thinking to myself that maybe that’s the Seattle Freeze. I began to recognize it in myself. I don’t mind dancing with strangers. After all, that’s my job. And speaking in public is a breeze. In fact, I like to think I rather shine. But making light conversation during a small party surrounded by unfamiliar people can be rough. Fitzgerald wrote in The Great Gatsby, “I like large parties. They’re so intimate. At small parties there isn’t any privacy.” I get that on a much deeper level, especially now that I recognize that in myself.
I guess I just have to keep trying. I’ve been making an effort to make small talk recently. Each time, it gets a little easier. Thawing this freeze might take some time, but so does every battle with a habit. I always thought it was just me. As it turns out, I guess it’s a “Seattle thing”.
