Is Dance a Restroom for Mediocrity or a Golden Loo for Opportunities in the Making?

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For the longest time, I have remained deeply inspired, motivated, and emotionally tied to the development, growth, evolution, and success of dance in Uganda. In previous articles I have written and shared, I have continuously reflected on the dance scene, its movements, its possibilities, and its contradictions. And yes, here I am again, still writing about dance in Uganda. Maybe because dance itself refuses to stop speaking. Maybe because every generation keeps rewriting the meaning of movement, culture, and identity. Or maybe because the story is still unfinished.

This time, however, I do not want to write another article about the struggles, the complaints, or the endless list of what needs to be fixed. Otherwise, I will sound like a broken record spinning on the same dusty table of cultural frustration. But then again, who wouldn’t want to keep sharing this story? Capitalism still exists, and recognizing its madness is part of understanding the ecosystem we now live in. Dance is no longer just dance. It is economy. It is influence. It is branding. It is nightlife. It is visibility. It is survival. It is aspiration.

Who is paying attention to the circulation now? Everything is dance. Dance parties. Dance camps. Dance battles. Dance laws. Dance associations. Dance MVPs. Dance crews shutting down streets and timelines. Something is happening again. The circle of life or death is questioning the next phase of what dance is becoming. Every generation seems to crown its own revolution, but we cannot ignore the reality that the early 2000s breaking movement remains one of the biggest dance revolutions Uganda has ever experienced. No bias. From that generation to the next, millennials embraced Hip-Hop dance culture and what later became popularly packaged as “urban-afro fusion.” Unless you were absent between 2006 and 2016, you witnessed a massive cultural shift. I personally call that period the “X Alpha Om Era,” a season of dance enlightenment where movement became language, identity, rebellion, and lifestyle.

Technology accelerated everything. From early streaming platforms to YouTube tutorials, from burned DVDs to social media clips, dance communities became more connected than ever before. What this current generation now accesses instantly once took entire crews months to discover. The underground became visible. Mainstream spaces opened. Fake became fashionable, and authenticity became negotiable. Communities were forming while others were pretending to exist. Yet even within all the confusion, dance kept expanding.

Now we are witnessing the rise of Gen Z and the fluidity of modern culture. Norms are shifting. Social behaviors are changing. Things that would have been heavily questioned or socially challenged before 2016 are now normalized. Some of these things existed before, yes, but they remained separated from dance communities socially and culturally. There were lines people respected. There were environments that stayed distinct. Today, the lines are blurred.

And honestly? I am amused by it all. Amused in both concern and celebration. I continue to celebrate the growth because whether we admit it or not, dance culture in Uganda is alive. Organizing a dance event with alcohol today almost feels like an energy drink for attendance and atmosphere. It gives you a direct window into how much the culture has transformed. I love my beer too, so this is not moral policing. It is observation. Back then, alcohol and dance spaces were socially separated in many communities. People had choices, boundaries, and identities attached to different spaces. Today, it is perfectly normal to attend a dance event and find adults casually enjoying beer, wine, or cocktails while watching battles, cyphers, or performances. At least at Skillz, you will probably find me or Benzima somewhere holding an API or an Amber, laughing through the chaos of culture evolving in real time.

But this is where the bigger question returns.

Is dance becoming a restroom for mediocrity? A space where everyone enters without responsibility, discipline, or understanding of the culture? Or is it becoming a golden loo of opportunities a messy but valuable place where creatives are discovering careers, networks, money, visibility, healing, and belonging?

Because both realities exist simultaneously.

There are people entering dance because it is trendy, profitable, and socially attractive. There are also people carrying years of sacrifice, community building, and cultural preservation. There are artists who genuinely study movement, history, and purpose. There are others simply chasing clout, nightlife attention, and digital validation. Yet maybe this confusion is part of growth itself. Every major cultural movement eventually experiences overcrowding, commercialization, and identity crises before finding its next form.

Dance in Uganda is no longer hidden. It is visible. It is loud. It is fashionable. It is marketable. The streets are watching. Brands are watching. Governments are slowly watching. Communities are watching. And with visibility comes both greatness and garbage. That is the burden of growth.

Still, despite all the contradictions, I remain hopeful.

Because underneath the parties, the trends, the bottles, the social media clips, and the chaos, there is still a generation using dance to survive depression, unemployment, poverty, loneliness, and invisibility. There are still communities building families through movement. There are still young people discovering confidence and identity through a dance floor. There are still creators documenting history in real time. There are still dancers dreaming beyond Kampala streets into global stages.

So maybe dance is neither a restroom for mediocrity nor a perfect golden opportunity machine.

Maybe dance is simply a reflection of society itself beautiful, messy, commercial, spiritual, fake, authentic, ambitious, lost, healing, and evolving all at once.