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This was my first college paper for Comp 1. I thought it might be relatable to all you ex-ravers.
Boom Boom to Bust
The way I remember the Rave scene is not how Fox news or anyone else who views it negatively would remember it. I was 16 years old when I went to my first party in Madison, WI. Most of the people attending this party were in their 20s and from every different racial background and sexual orientation. I was taken by surprise when random strangers would come up to me and my friends and ask us how we were, if we were enjoying the party, etc. in a sociable anti-courtship sort of way. When they asked us our age, my friends who were only 15, lied and said they were 16 – with that said, the 20-somethings would cry, “Aww, you’re just a baby!” We were just babies, but we felt so grown up and free at this party; and something we were not able to grasp until later, we were part of a community that was much bigger than ourselves.
The way people danced has never ceased to amaze me. I felt chills and a sense of awe when I watched people dance. Every inch of their body was in movement. If the way their hands moved could draw a picture, it would paint a fractal or a crazy, winding geometric shape. These people were letting go, letting the music move them and expressing themselves in a way I had never seen before. I, myself, was never afraid to get on the dance floor because even though I was surrounded by complete strangers, I felt a sense of acceptance. I danced how the music made me feel, and in doing so I felt a sense of relief, as if I were casting off all the negative energy that a demanding society had built up inside of me. I didn’t think about how MTV wanted me to dance. My dance was my own and everyone else’s dance was unique to who they were. Each time I made eye contact with a dancer, I was invited with a smile, and a smile I returned. It really felt euphoric to be in unison with so many people I hadn’t even met.
However, with every party I went to, the magic dissipated. The more mainstream raves became, the less closeness I felt with the people who attended. I think this was a result of MDMA and hallucinogens being abused and used irresponsibly. While I don’t condemn drug use, I strongly believe certain people just do not mix well with certain drugs, especially, hallucinogens and those that are potentially habit forming. While drug abuse among the rave scene became more and more severe, the scene eventually reached its downfall.
I have attended wannabe raves recently. At every event, the feeling I get is always the same: dispirited and disheartened. Upon arriving, I always have this hope that I will experience a piece of what a rave used to feel like, and sometimes I do, when I close my eyes, dance and just listen to the bass thundering away and the synthesized melody weaving through. But when I open my eyes, I’m reminded of everything the party isn’t. Everyone is dancing the same way - some even like hoochie mamas; when I make eye contact with people on the dance floor they look at me with insecurity and suspicion; nobody cares for random conversation with a stranger – with the exception of those either heavily inhibited by MDMA or in a drunken stupor – at which point the interaction is extremely incoherent, uncomfortable – and kind of creepy. And the night just wouldn’t be complete without the infamous drunken man who tried to start up a conversation not only tripping over himself, but ramming into me on the dance floor.
Overall, the latter experience was a very detached experience with a distinct lack of community, and abundance of cliquism. The only saving grace was the music. By bringing this deep contrast in experiences to light, I can’t help but fear that the rave scene I remember was all a façade as well. In comparison to Mark Twain’s “Two Ways of Viewing the River” perhaps I lost that sense of free-spirited rapture by looking to closely at what I had experienced and asking myself questions such as: Were people only warm and accepting because they had access to drugs that inhibited their fears and insecurities? Leaving parties as a teenager, I remember the coldness and disparity I felt when the party was over. Was that because I was venturing back into the real world, or because people were coming down from their drug of choice? I don’t know. All I do know is what I felt from those parties was meaningful, and I suppose that’s all that matters.
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