Stake dances mean stake dance rules, the main rule being: NO TOUCHY!
Did anybody else’s stakes have dance cards? The stake across town had these little dance cards with a plethora of rules printed on them in teeny, tiny print. (Stuff like “Keep both feet on the ground at all times.” What? How am I supposed to, you know, dance?) You had to sign the card and present it to a priesthood holder at the entrance. If it was your first time at one of this stake’s dances, you were taken aside by a priesthood leader and briefly interviewed/lectured. (I’m not making this up.)
Then there were the rules for apparel. Boys weren’t allowed to wear jeans or t-shirts. That’s essentially where the rules ended for the boys. Ties weren’t even required, if I remember correctly. Girls, on the other hand, had to wear skirts or dresses that came to the knee. No bare shoulders, because bare shoulders make boys think dirty thoughts. No cleavage, obviously, and nothing too tight. I remember being forced to kneel on the ground at least once or twice. If the skirt didn’t touch the ground, you had to go home and change.
Story time: I only went to a few dances at BYU because they were so remarkably wholesome and boring, but one brisk spring evening, I walked with some friends and roommates up to campus. Upon arriving at the Wilkinson Center, I took off my sweater, and was informed by one of the imposing Polynesian dance matrons that I was going to have the put the sweater back on if I wanted to go to the dance, because I was lacking in the sleeve department.
I’m no dummy. I didn’t go to BYU dances in sleeveless tops. I saved that sort of thing for the UVU dances. But apparently, flutter sleeves are just not sleeve-y enough for BYU standards. I was told that the sleeve fabric must extend all the way around, lest we tempt the young men to carnal thought or action with a glimpse of bare armpit.
So, I put my sweater back on, went into the dance, and took it back off. I figured that there was no way the dance matrons would be able to pick a flutter sleeve out of a crowd. Such naivete! I got in perhaps three minutes of dancing before another imposing Polynesian woman carrying a mini light saber invited me to leave.
Any ex-dance matrons willing to dish? Are you trained to spot insufficient sleeves in a darkened, crowded room, or is it pure instinct? And what is up with the mini light sabers?
