On Saturday night I made my way in a Rikki taxi to attend what I expected to be an Afrikaans sokkie-jol in the heart of a suburb of Cape Town. We pulled up outside the rugby hall to hear what sounded like evangelical music pouring out the window. I looked around at the people in the taxi and thought ‘here we go’. We laughed and nervously went inside, hoping for the best. It was our friends’ joint birthday party and we weren’t going to let some scary Christian musiek keep us away.
When I got inside the hall, however, all preconceptions dissipated to leave behind a sense of wonder. At this tiny little hall dozens of gay and lesbian couples danced lang-arm to the latest and oldest Afrikaans treffers. They were a marvel on the dance floor, spinning and twisting in perfect time to some intense sokkie-sokkie tunes. It was a rhythm that was unfamiliar to me, and I soon learnt that my lang-arm skills left much to be desired.
What was interesting about this party was that it played into so many stereotypes while shattering so many others. It was an Afrikaans gay party (shattered stereotype of AWB-style homophobia), and there were a maximum of four black people in the entire place (reinforced stereotype of racial separation). The gay men were much better dancers than the lesbian women (reinforced stereotype of gay men dancers), and the lesbian women were often much bigger than the gay men (shattered stereotypes of acceptable women’s bodies). It was difficult to see which partner was leading (shattered stereotype of one masculine one feminine partner), and the dance moves, while culturally specific, were extremely controlled and well performed (shattered stereotype that white people can’t dance). It was really interesting to be there, and even more interesting to participate in.
We were soon to discover that if you got in the way the angry and stern-faced barman would soon kick you to the corner, and if you bumped someone you would be deemed ‘wildly inconsiderate’ and shouted at. Many people simply sat on the sides watching the dancers. The whole thing was into an intense performance of dancing skills and prowess, which I’m sure is replicated in straight clubs (I don’t go to them, so not sure).
I left exhausted at 1.30, after many cheers to George Michael and Kurt Darren, and thought about the many worlds that were happening outside of the one I live in. Are there similar gatherings in townships? Why do these Gat parties only happen a few times a month? It really made me happy to have been to one, and I wonder if South Africans who are afraid of homosexuality would be able to justify their fear after going to one of these parties?
I don’t think so and I think attending one was a great thing to do on a Saturday evening. I’m definitely going to practice my lang-arm and try again sometime soon.
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