They quietly ask me and I sigh in frustration. A neat solution to a problem introduced by the very people who created it. It’s not a bad question, consent, but I find myself increasingly frustrated with it. It feels like a fundamental misunderstanding, or at best using a leaf blower to dust fine china. It obstructs and cuts off access to much of expression available for dance, inherent parts of the art form. And for what?

An idea of safety.

Whose safety? From who? From what?

More importantly who decided that we needed it?

And why.