The music is what you hear first, swirling throughout the spacious room, punctuated by the tap of feet. Then come the dancing figures, advancing and retreating, turning in circles, dipping in and out of patterns. Skirts are flying. In the interior glow, everyone looks flushed and laughing. 

This isn’t Bridgerton. It’s a square dance. And roughly one Saturday night a month, it’s pulling hundreds of people to a Depression-era school gymnasium on the Southside of Richmond now owned by arts nonprofit Studio Two Three. Despite the stereotypes of square dance as an old folks’ pastime, many of the attendees are in their 20s or 30s. 

“There’s every different type of person from every different category you could think of all showing up together,” said Blair Doucette, who with Cam Newton came out to a Saturday afternoon lesson and dance this July after attending an evening dance last February. 

RVA Square Dance, the scrappy group behind the gatherings, has been convening square dances in the Richmond area since 2012, with stints at places like Lewis Ginter Recreation Center. The events have always had a loyal following, but since the pandemic, broader interest has exploded.

“For us then, a good night might have been 16 people,” says Adrienne Robertson, a long-time member of the organization. “Now a good night is more than 200.” 

Theories on why square dance has captured local attention — even the notoriously fickle minds of Gen Z — vary. Square dancing has a long history in Virginia; while historians differ on its precise origin, many believe the form that emerged from the Appalachian region is an amalgam of old English and French dances and African American traditions. 

Despite its regional roots, though, public enthusiasm has waxed and waned. In the 1980s, modern Western square dance clubs, which practice a different, more standardized version of square dancing than is traditionally found in the Southeast, pushed to have Congress declare square dance as the national American folk dance. The effort flopped, twice, amid protests that Washington had no business putting one form of heritage above another. Still, Virginia in 1993 became one of more than two dozen states to grant a special designation to square dancing.

RVA Square Dance members say a few factors may be fueling square dance’s popularity now. Devoted followers in Washington, D.C. and Baltimore have brought new people into the tent through the annual “Dare to Be Square” event where square dancers can practice steps, jam together and learn how to call — the distinctive practice of crying out each of the steps dancers should take.

Grant Hunnicutt, RVA Square Dance’s primary caller, says the robust, old-time music scene that exists in Richmond and its environs is also an attraction. Many of the tunes of that fiddle-heavy genre, which predates bluegrass, were created specifically for people to dance to them. Before RVA Square Dance coalesced, Hunnicutt recalls going to house dances convened by “mountain punks” in Charlottesville who would play old-time music while couples danced in different rooms.

“You’d have a square in the foyer, a square in the dining room,” he says. 

Robertson agrees the flourishing old-time community is a major driver: “This is not a scene that exists in a vacuum,” she says.  

Then there’s the pandemic. Many young people who entered college or the working world during lockdowns are now eager for opportunities to physically mingle in an environment that RVA Square Dance attendees describe as warm and accepting. 

When square dancing, “you can’t be super cool and aloof,” says Jordan Albright, a member of the group. “You have to let your hair down.” 

The calling of steps during dances also makes it easier for people nervous about trying something new to get into the flow. 

“I can’t dance in a graceful way,” says McEver Dugan, another RVA Square Dance member. But, she adds, “I can follow directions.” 

One change to the traditional calls is evident: Instead of commands being addressed to a male leading partner and a female following partner, RVA Square Dance calls are directed toward “larks” and “ravens,” respectively. Not only is that shift more in line with 21st-century understandings of gender, but organizers say it makes dances far more flexible by allowing groups of women or men to dance together without requiring a 50-50 split in attendees. 

“It doesn’t matter if your square has four ladies or four gentlemen,” says Albright. 

At a Saturday afternoon dance last July at Studio Two Three, squares had just about every possible composition, encompassing children and older adults, couples and solo attendees and participants of all genders. 

“I think I’m the oldest person here,” says Lynn Burris, who turned out after seeing a post about the dance on Facebook. However, she continues, “It’s very accessible. I have a hard time with my memory, so if I can do it, anyone can do it.” 

Robertson, who has been learning to call dances in recent months, says it’s gratifying to see so many people coming together to enjoy a form of music and dance that’s been special to her for so long but has often flown beneath the radar. 

“After the pandemic, people just wanted to get out and try something different,” she says. “We kind of hit a sweet spot where people were telling their friends.”