Slice of Lucy: Everyone is Line Dancing

 Everyone is Line Dancing

Lucy Yeager
March 7, 2026

For me, line dancing is joy. When I walk into the cafeteria of a nearby Catholic church on Tuesday nights, I leave the world at the door and boot scoot like I don't have a sink full of dirty pots and a bag full of student journals. I laugh (at myself), sweat, sing along, and relish moving my body. I love wearing my cowboy boots, but most people wear workout clothes and portable neck fans. There is a $5 cover for the whole evening from the beginner class to intermediate. So, if you have the stamina, you can dance for over three hours. I'm not there yet, but do you know who is? The lady I call The Nun. 

The Nun is in her sixties. I actually have no idea if she is a nun, but she dresses in black, all the way down to her sensible shoes. She has cropped gray hair, and her spot is a little patch of turquoise linoleum in the front right corner. The Nun is chill, and she knows hundreds of dances. She never hesitates to execute each step, not shyly or self-consciously, but with some reserve. It makes me happy to see The Nun dancing, and gratefully, I often look over at her feet when I cannot remember the next step. 

The whole class is full of interesting people. Probably half of the room is over 50 with the younger set from a local bar in the back, energetically adding turns and heel-toe pivots. They're not showing off; they're just doing their own thing. There is one burly young man who loves to stomp. I mean, he adds stomps, almost like musical accompaniment, and when the dance calls for a stomp, he puts his heart into it. There's a woman in her seventies who brings her older, frail husband. Based on the grip she has on his arm, she clearly expects him to join in some dances, and he dutifully shuffles through the steps, then sits and watches when he gets tired. I imagine they've been dancing their whole marriage and practice all week long in their living room before class. Maybe he used to lead in the past. 

You might have suspected that everyone in my line dancing class is white. They are. I am. 

What is fascinating to me is that just twenty miles to the west, Black folks are line dancing, too - older and younger, experienced and newbies, some with awesome outfits and clack fans and others in athletic pants and Ts. There are characters and veterans there, too. 5, 6, 7, 8...The steps and teaching are the same. The sense of community and judgment-free culture are the same. The joy is the same. 

These separate line dancing groups are bound by joy and don't even know it. We should be dancing together.