Julia Aguinaldo ’27
Considering Dance on Instagram, and the Double-Edged Effects of Globalization on Art
Dance is a cultural art form that supersedes time and empires, threading through the history of humanity. In the last twenty years, social media, more specifically Instagram, has created a profound shift in societal norms and globalization. With one click of the ‘Post’ button, Instagram becomes an online port, connecting people in São Paulo with locals in Seoul. While it facilitates global connections, it exacerbates personal and political issues for each and every corner of the world to care about, including users of the arts. The convergence of Instagram and dance provides insight into the dynamic between tradition and technology. Instagram drastically influences the dance community, offering unprecedented connectivity and visibility for dancers while also presenting challenges related to authenticity, mental health, and cultural appropriation.
Instagram enables dancers, choreographers, dance connoisseurs, and mere viewers to enjoy increased connectivity and visibility, even in the most remote parts of the world. Benedictus Mattson explores the effect of social networking on Ghanaian dance culture in contemporary times and examines the Instagram activities of popular Ghanaian dancers. Dance is a prime reflection of African culture; in Ghana, it has empowered marginalized youth to challenge the poor economic conditions imposed by the country’s elites and its colonial legacy (Mattson 143). Ghanaian youth carry that intention and pull moves from Indigenous styles and other global influences, creating a process called ‘glocalization.’ This process helped develop Ghanaian popular dance like Azonto, falling under the bigger dance genre of Afrobeats (Mattson 147). To an extent, the intention of the movement and the movement itself is one that youth worldwide can relate to and divulge.
Moreover, Instagram has emerged as a pivotal platform for dancers in Ghana, transforming local dance forms like Azonto into global phenomena and opening career opportunities worldwide. Famous Ghanaian dancers like Dancegod Lloyd and Incredible Zigi have diverged from traditional societal paths, choosing instead to spread their knowledge of Azonto through this platform. Consequently, they have become international artists and elevated the status of Ghanaian dance and Afrobeats in popular culture. These dancers have significantly expanded their audience by creating short dance videos, participating in dance challenges, and engaging with the Instagram community through comments, hashtags, tags, and reposts (Mattson 150). Such strategic use of Instagram has enabled them to effectively promote their dance styles on the global stage. Dancegod Lloyd was featured in Beyoncé’s “Black Is King” music video after he used a hashtag in one of his dance videos to her song ‘Already’ (Mattson 149). Additionally, Instagram facilitates sharing information about live performances and open classes, fostering meaningful, face-to-face interactions that strengthen the connections among dance enthusiasts (Holmes 53). The platform also showcases the potential for a dance career to those in remote areas like Ghana, reminding individuals impacted by globalization about previously unknown opportunities available only through viewing a simple post.
Conversely, Instagram and its affordance to quickly spread and mutate uploaded content borders on exploitation and cultural appropriation. Easily replicated content– reposting or posting one’s dancing moves from an isolated popular video– obscures one’s history or intentions. Afrobeats dance and hip-hop are often subjected to mutations of the original movement, giving power to the general public—the viewers who most likely know little to none about the movement’s origins. Mattson refers to Alexandra Harlig and her concept of affective and active viewing in social media, explaining that affective viewing hones in on a space for relatability and representation, while active viewing hinges on the kinesthetically pleasing nodes of the movement (Mattson 146). Active viewing on Instagram is often the perpetrator of ‘hype choreography,’ a term coined by Esie Mensah where choreographers would take certain dance moves, in this context, connected to Afrobeats dance with no prior training for clout or crowd approval (2).
Similarly, ‘hype choreography’ demonstrates how our society is often conditioned to value non-Black interpretations of Black dance forms, suggesting that appropriation can sometimes be mistaken for innovation (Mensah 15). For instance, Dexter Carr, a Black choreographer, experienced this when his dance from a masterclass went viral on Instagram. Although Carr received credit for his dance from Charlie D’Amelio, her rendition simplified the movements, making them more accessible but less authentic. Despite her intentions, her version, amplified by her larger following, became more recognized than the original, distorting the dance’s roots and perpetuating a superficial understanding of Carr’s movement. Ultimately, dance is an art where people exchange and inspire one another through their intention and historical take on their movement; however, when it comes at a cost for commercial gain, ‘hype choreography’ originating from Instagram strays away from expression and becomes a product. This platform replicates a social imbalance and subtly encourages exploitation and appropriation, harboring an inauthentic focus and concern for those with the most engagement and followers rather than those with knowledge of the movement.
Likewise, when used for marketing, Instagram is a breeding ground for dancers to further struggle with authenticity and self-expression. Now more than ever, booking a job is harder for any up-and-coming dancer. Similar to how the same actors are up for leading roles in Hollywood, dancers in the industry are starting to head towards that path with Instagram, making dancers who wish to rise above the ranks lose their artistry and attempt to emulate trends in the industry or dancers who ‘already made it.’ Even those who are viewed as successful– such as Tsiambwon Akuchu, a famous breakdancer or b-boy on Instagram– profess the effect the camera has on their artistic state, deeming it as a devil’s advocate for their movement and how ‘good’ it looks when they are freestyling. Akuchu states, “Usually, when you know someone’s watching, you can expect a reaction. But, with the camera, you know something is watching, but it’s not watching to engage” (353). With the endless possibilities on how video on camera can be distorted and interpreted, even more so with viewers, he can’t even gauge on Instagram, Akuchu feels there is unnecessary space for judgment, which prevents authentic expression from passing through. When dance loses its authenticity on platforms like Instagram, it shifts from being an enduring art form and process to merely a fleeting trend, where the focus is on replicating viral dances rather than engaging in a meaningful exploration of one’s artistic journey.
Furthermore, this field is where one’s body and abilities are all the result of one’s work. Insecurities branch out in every human, but these are exacerbated to greater lengths for Instagram dancers. On Instagram, dancers usually post improvisation clips or choreography they learned in class. In real-life circumstances, there are people to engage with, treasuring the communal aspect of dance. It is online where dancers like Akuchu feel there is nobody tangible to engage with, so dance is construed into a different meaning as dancers start to wonder about messing up or pausing while in the creative process of improvisation (Harlig 354). In addition to the increase in self-consciousness, Instagram dancers choose to favor flexibility (e.g. a high kick or jump) rather than the ability to perform to appease the viewers (Hamilton 52). Instagram promotes 26-second videos on its platform. It is definitely not enough time to showcase one’s artistic process; however, tricks and flexibility can be showcased in that allotted time Instagram promotes. This platform is a catalyst for undermining the art of process and favors an isolated product.
In contrast to the commercial pressures exerted by Instagram, some dancers deliberately maintain a minimal social media presence, prioritizing artistic integrity over online visibility. Pacific Northwest principal ballerina Leta Biasucci exemplifies this approach, believing that success should stem from the quality of one’s work rather than the social media prowess she believes is unnecessary to achieve success. She would rather have “put confidence in the idea of allowing one’s work to speak for itself” (Wingenroth 34). This stance highlights a broader concern: the potential for social media to distort the genuine artistry and individuality of dancers. Those who resist the lure of Instagram often do so to avoid the dilution of their unique artistic voice, which can be overshadowed by the platform’s demand for visual, yet often superficial, content. For dancers like Biasucci, the true essence of dance lies in the depth and authenticity of their performance, elements often compromised by the superficial metrics of social media success.
Dance will survive the rising times of Instagram, but it will transform the meaning of culture in an interconnected world. While Instagram has undoubtedly expanded the horizons of exposure for dancers, it also poses significant challenges that could dilute the authentic cultural and artistic essence of dance. As the dance community continues to navigate this interconnected world, it becomes crucial to balance the benefits of global visibility with the preservation of the art’s core values. By fostering a deeper understanding and appreciation of cultural nuances, dancers can use Instagram not just as a platform for exposure but as a tool for genuine artistic expression and cultural exchange. Moving forward, the dance community must strive to ensure that the art form not only survives but thrives in a way that respects and celebrates its rich heritage. If dancers navigate Instagram wisely, they have the potential to shape a new era where humans hold untouchable value in an increasingly technological world.
Instagram enables dancers, choreographers, dance connoisseurs, and mere viewers to enjoy increased connectivity and visibility, even in the most remote parts of the world. Benedictus Mattson explores the effect of social networking on Ghanaian dance culture in contemporary times and examines the Instagram activities of popular Ghanaian dancers. Dance is a prime reflection of African culture; in Ghana, it has empowered marginalized youth to challenge the poor economic conditions imposed by the country’s elites and its colonial legacy (Mattson 143). Ghanaian youth carry that intention and pull moves from Indigenous styles and other global influences, creating a process called ‘glocalization.’ This process helped develop Ghanaian popular dance like Azonto, falling under the bigger dance genre of Afrobeats (Mattson 147). To an extent, the intention of the movement and the movement itself is one that youth worldwide can relate to and divulge.
Moreover, Instagram has emerged as a pivotal platform for dancers in Ghana, transforming local dance forms like Azonto into global phenomena and opening career opportunities worldwide. Famous Ghanaian dancers like Dancegod Lloyd and Incredible Zigi have diverged from traditional societal paths, choosing instead to spread their knowledge of Azonto through this platform. Consequently, they have become international artists and elevated the status of Ghanaian dance and Afrobeats in popular culture. These dancers have significantly expanded their audience by creating short dance videos, participating in dance challenges, and engaging with the Instagram community through comments, hashtags, tags, and reposts (Mattson 150). Such strategic use of Instagram has enabled them to effectively promote their dance styles on the global stage. Dancegod Lloyd was featured in Beyoncé’s “Black Is King” music video after he used a hashtag in one of his dance videos to her song ‘Already’ (Mattson 149). Additionally, Instagram facilitates sharing information about live performances and open classes, fostering meaningful, face-to-face interactions that strengthen the connections among dance enthusiasts (Holmes 53). The platform also showcases the potential for a dance career to those in remote areas like Ghana, reminding individuals impacted by globalization about previously unknown opportunities available only through viewing a simple post.
Conversely, Instagram and its affordance to quickly spread and mutate uploaded content borders on exploitation and cultural appropriation. Easily replicated content– reposting or posting one’s dancing moves from an isolated popular video– obscures one’s history or intentions. Afrobeats dance and hip-hop are often subjected to mutations of the original movement, giving power to the general public—the viewers who most likely know little to none about the movement’s origins. Mattson refers to Alexandra Harlig and her concept of affective and active viewing in social media, explaining that affective viewing hones in on a space for relatability and representation, while active viewing hinges on the kinesthetically pleasing nodes of the movement (Mattson 146). Active viewing on Instagram is often the perpetrator of ‘hype choreography,’ a term coined by Esie Mensah where choreographers would take certain dance moves, in this context, connected to Afrobeats dance with no prior training for clout or crowd approval (2).
Similarly, ‘hype choreography’ demonstrates how our society is often conditioned to value non-Black interpretations of Black dance forms, suggesting that appropriation can sometimes be mistaken for innovation (Mensah 15). For instance, Dexter Carr, a Black choreographer, experienced this when his dance from a masterclass went viral on Instagram. Although Carr received credit for his dance from Charlie D’Amelio, her rendition simplified the movements, making them more accessible but less authentic. Despite her intentions, her version, amplified by her larger following, became more recognized than the original, distorting the dance’s roots and perpetuating a superficial understanding of Carr’s movement. Ultimately, dance is an art where people exchange and inspire one another through their intention and historical take on their movement; however, when it comes at a cost for commercial gain, ‘hype choreography’ originating from Instagram strays away from expression and becomes a product. This platform replicates a social imbalance and subtly encourages exploitation and appropriation, harboring an inauthentic focus and concern for those with the most engagement and followers rather than those with knowledge of the movement.
Likewise, when used for marketing, Instagram is a breeding ground for dancers to further struggle with authenticity and self-expression. Now more than ever, booking a job is harder for any up-and-coming dancer. Similar to how the same actors are up for leading roles in Hollywood, dancers in the industry are starting to head towards that path with Instagram, making dancers who wish to rise above the ranks lose their artistry and attempt to emulate trends in the industry or dancers who ‘already made it.’ Even those who are viewed as successful– such as Tsiambwon Akuchu, a famous breakdancer or b-boy on Instagram– profess the effect the camera has on their artistic state, deeming it as a devil’s advocate for their movement and how ‘good’ it looks when they are freestyling. Akuchu states, “Usually, when you know someone’s watching, you can expect a reaction. But, with the camera, you know something is watching, but it’s not watching to engage” (353). With the endless possibilities on how video on camera can be distorted and interpreted, even more so with viewers, he can’t even gauge on Instagram, Akuchu feels there is unnecessary space for judgment, which prevents authentic expression from passing through. When dance loses its authenticity on platforms like Instagram, it shifts from being an enduring art form and process to merely a fleeting trend, where the focus is on replicating viral dances rather than engaging in a meaningful exploration of one’s artistic journey.
Furthermore, this field is where one’s body and abilities are all the result of one’s work. Insecurities branch out in every human, but these are exacerbated to greater lengths for Instagram dancers. On Instagram, dancers usually post improvisation clips or choreography they learned in class. In real-life circumstances, there are people to engage with, treasuring the communal aspect of dance. It is online where dancers like Akuchu feel there is nobody tangible to engage with, so dance is construed into a different meaning as dancers start to wonder about messing up or pausing while in the creative process of improvisation (Harlig 354). In addition to the increase in self-consciousness, Instagram dancers choose to favor flexibility (e.g. a high kick or jump) rather than the ability to perform to appease the viewers (Hamilton 52). Instagram promotes 26-second videos on its platform. It is definitely not enough time to showcase one’s artistic process; however, tricks and flexibility can be showcased in that allotted time Instagram promotes. This platform is a catalyst for undermining the art of process and favors an isolated product.
In contrast to the commercial pressures exerted by Instagram, some dancers deliberately maintain a minimal social media presence, prioritizing artistic integrity over online visibility. Pacific Northwest principal ballerina Leta Biasucci exemplifies this approach, believing that success should stem from the quality of one’s work rather than the social media prowess she believes is unnecessary to achieve success. She would rather have “put confidence in the idea of allowing one’s work to speak for itself” (Wingenroth 34). This stance highlights a broader concern: the potential for social media to distort the genuine artistry and individuality of dancers. Those who resist the lure of Instagram often do so to avoid the dilution of their unique artistic voice, which can be overshadowed by the platform’s demand for visual, yet often superficial, content. For dancers like Biasucci, the true essence of dance lies in the depth and authenticity of their performance, elements often compromised by the superficial metrics of social media success.
Dance will survive the rising times of Instagram, but it will transform the meaning of culture in an interconnected world. While Instagram has undoubtedly expanded the horizons of exposure for dancers, it also poses significant challenges that could dilute the authentic cultural and artistic essence of dance. As the dance community continues to navigate this interconnected world, it becomes crucial to balance the benefits of global visibility with the preservation of the art’s core values. By fostering a deeper understanding and appreciation of cultural nuances, dancers can use Instagram not just as a platform for exposure but as a tool for genuine artistic expression and cultural exchange. Moving forward, the dance community must strive to ensure that the art form not only survives but thrives in a way that respects and celebrates its rich heritage. If dancers navigate Instagram wisely, they have the potential to shape a new era where humans hold untouchable value in an increasingly technological world.
Works Cited
Hamilton, Linda. “Anti-Insta-Famous.” Dance Magazine , vol. 93, no. 1, Dance Magazine, Inc., 2019, pp. 52.www.suny-pur.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/permalink/01SUNY_PUR/1npol0k/cdi_proquest_miscellaneous_2161641464.
Mensah, Esie. “Dancing on a Fine Line.” The Dance Current , The Dance Current, 23 Mar. 2022.www.thedancecurrent.com/article/dancing-fine-line/. Accessed on 15 Apr. 2024.
Akuchu, Tsiambwom, and Alexandra Harlig. “‘Double-Tap, “That Was Dope”’: A Conversation on Breaking on Instagram with Tsiambwom Akuchu and Alexandra Harlig.” The International Journal of Screendance , vol. 12, 2021, pp. 348-356. https://doi.org/10.18061/ijsd.v12i0.8402.
Holmes, Kathryn. “Going Social.” Dance Magazine , vol. 93, no. 5, Dance Magazine, Inc., 2019, 52–53. www.suny-pur.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/discovery/fulldisplay?docid=cdi_proquest_miscellaneous_2220184548&context=PC&vid=01SUNY_PUR:01SUNY_PUR&lang=en&search_scope=MyInst_and_CI&adaptor=Primo%20Central&tab=Everything&query=any,contains,%22social%20media%22%20%22instagram%22%20%22dance%22%20NOT%20%22tiktok%22&offset=40.
Mattson, Benedictus. “Instagram – ‘Bringing You Closer to the Things You Love’: Ghanaian Popular Dance Circulation through Interaction within Current Pervasive Media.” Journal of Arts and Communities , vol. 14, no. 1, 2023, pp. 141–55.https://doi.org/10.1386/jaac_00049_1.
Wingenroth, Lauren. “Off the Grid.” Dance Magazine , vol. 93, no. 5, Dance Magazine, Inc., 2019, pp. 34. www.suny-pur.primo.exlibrisgroup.com/discovery/fulldisplay?docid=cdi_proquest_miscellaneous_2220180223&context=PC&vid=01SUNY_PUR:01SUNY_PUR&lang=en&search_scope=MyInst_and_CI&adaptor=Primo%20Central&tab=Everything&query=any,contains,%22social%20media%22%20%22instagram%22%20%22dance%22%20NOT%20%22tiktok%22&offset=50.