Reading “The Autobiography of Malcolm X” and found this fragment on lindy-hop.
All of a sudden I found myself surrounded by photographs and memories of a long gone sunny afternoon, with great music and the golden youth dancing under the shadow of the Cathedral’s Tower.
If you’ve ever lindy-hopped, you’ll know what I’m talking about. With most girls, you kind of work opposite them, circling, side-stepping, leading. Whichever arm you lead with is half-bent out there, your hands are giving that little pull, that little push, touching her waist, her shoulders, her arms. She’s in, out, turning, whirling, wherever you guide her. With poor partners, you feel their weight. They’re slow and heavy. But with really good partners, all you need is just the push-pull suggestion. They guide nearly effortlessly, even off the floor and into the air, and your little solo manoeuvre is done on the floor before they land, when they join you, whirling , right in the step.