The joy of Dancing in the Street

Thanks to a tip-off in Jonathan Haidt’s book “The Righteous Mind”, I bought Barbara Ehrenreich’s “Dancing in the Street: A History of Collective Joy” and zipped through it with great pleasure.  It’s biased and blinkered, but also joyful. I rarely remember how books end, but this one has an outstanding ending that moved me and has moved many others – it’s reproduced all over the Internet.

Walking along the beach in Rio we came upon members of a Samba school rehearsing for Carnivale – four-year-olds to octogenarians, men and women, some gorgeously costumed and some in tank tops and shorts – Rio street clothes.

To a 19th century missionary or a 21st century religious puritan their movements might have seemed lewd or at least suggestive…Certainly the conquest of the streets by a crowd of brown-skinned people would have been distressing in itself. But the samba school danced down right to the sand in perfect dignity, rapt in their own rhythm, their faces both exalted and shining with an almost religious kind of exaltation.

One thin, latte-colored young man dancing just behind the musicians set the pace. What was he in real life? A bank clerk? A busboy? Here, in his brilliant feathered costume, he was a prince, a mythological figure, maybe even a god. Here, for a moment there were no divisions among people except for the political ones created by Carnivale itself.

After they reached the boardwalk, bystanders started following in without any indication or announcements, without embarrassment or even alcohol to dissolve the normal constraints of urban life, the samba school turned into a huge crowd and the crowd turned into a momentary festival. There was no point to it, no religious overtones, no ideological message, no money to be made. Just the chance – which we need much more of on this crowded planet – to acknowledge the miracle of our simultaneous existence with some sort of celebration.