Are There Any Chi-Town Steppers Out There?
Those of you from Chicago already feel that smile jet across your face. Your cheeks just got warm, didn’t they?
What is Stepping, some of you not from the Windy City might be asking?
In simple terms, it’s a dance, but to a Chicagoan, it’s a rite of passage. Its roots come from a dance called The Bop, but over time it evolved into something magical in the basements and living rooms of Black homes. In some households, you learned to walk… then you learned to Step. That’s how it went in mine.
My relationship with my mother had its challenges. The weight of being the firstborn was heavy. Some of it from her expectations, and some from my own. Tension always hung in the air. Well… almost always. Music was the exception. It had the power to shift the atmosphere.
Music of all kinds was welcome in our home, but certain songs were a call to action.
Summer Madness by Kool & the Gang? That was the signal for the pros to rise and glide to the dance floor. The melody was transformative and it carried your mind and body somewhere else entirely.
The Payback by James Brown? You knew you were about to sweat like Mr. Brown himself. There was no way to Step to that track without wrecking your pretty outfit.
And Rock Creek Park by The Blackbyrds? The heavy hitters made that one look like art. I’m talking Alvin Ailey Dancers-level art but Chicago-style.
Can you tell I could talk about this forever?
Music activated something sacred in our house. In fact, those were the times I loved home the most.
Did I Step? You’d better believe I did! I practiced every chance I got. Learning to Step was like learning to jump double dutch or master your Bid Whist game. It was how you fit in.
Was I good? Lol… no. But I loved to make the effort.
Now, at 61, I look back and see how dance and music were my escape, my joy, my happy place. Do I care that I sometimes miss steps in Zumba? Or mess up a line dance? Nope. I’m dancing, there’s music… and that’s all that matters.
It took nerve to Step out there with the pros. It took humility too, the kind that lets you laugh at yourself. But most of all, it took courage.
And whether I was Stepping or doing anything else, in those moments… I was free to be me.
What moved me most was how Stepping wasn’t just movement — it was belonging. A language shared without words. A moment where tension dissolved, and music became the bridge between generations, between mother and child, between expectation and freedom.
I love how you folded memory into music — how certain tracks weren’t just songs, but summons. Summer Madness, The Payback, Rock Creek Park — you made me hear them while reading.