#88: ‘Dancing Shoes is Dead’ by Gavin Evans

‘Dancing Shoes is Dead’ is Gavin Evans’ memoir about his life as a political activist and lifelong boxing fan. The book is published by Black Swan.

The memoir charts Evans’ life growing up in Apartheid-era South Africa and his early involvement as a committed activist, eventually aligning with the ANC. His political ideals are interwoven with his love (which waned at different points) of boxing and his religious upbringing.

Now, my notes on this book, which I only finished today, are as confusingly dense as I, at times, found the book itself. This is my attempt to acknowledge that this is simply down to my failure to take everything in properly.

That being said, my main takeaway is that this book is simply overwhelming, which is perhaps not surprising as it focuses on such an extreme period in South African political history. A time of activism, outlawed trade union movements, espionage on all sides, and double agents ready to sell out those closest to them. Though, when this historical period is set against an, at times, equally chaotic business as professional boxing, it can feel… well, a bit much.

Of course, professional boxing, in any country and in any era, lends itself well to political analogies, itself being full of ‘characters’ ready to double cross each other in exchange for money, or to manoeuvre themselves up the chain of influence. However, I found trying to remember the different boxers, officials and promoters, alongside the names of activists, politicians, trade unionists, il/legal political factions and unofficial military organisations a bit dizzying.

I have a lot of friends deeply engaged with all manner of activism (one of the closest gifted me this book, in fact, so thank you Brother), and sometimes I feel as though they are speaking to me in a foreign language, with its/their obsession with initialism, acronyms and assumed knowledge. I’ve also never read any John le Carré novels so I feel like I’ve missed out on an important initiation.

I’ll assume that this was a deliberate stylistic choice, but I think the often frantic pace and deluge of information, which clearly mirrors the manic life of underground activists (at least those in serious danger of prosecution or worse), while the political machine lumbers and lurches in slow motion, is a fantastic analogy for the life of professional boxers. Those boxers who I know personally (small hall boxers) seem to be on the go constantly, running around different gyms sparring, and selling their own tickets, while rutting up against the almost static and antiquated business of professional boxing.

Boxing’s influence shows itself in spurts throughout Evans’ life, and in that respect it probably reflects the majority of ‘serious’ fans who naturally lose interest in the sport when faced with bigger priorities and a lack of compelling stars. Evans himself acknowledges at times in the book that he isn’t as fanatical about the sport as some of his friends and acquaintances, which makes the book more relatable, in my opinion.

It feels as though boxing has functioned as more of a regular distraction in Evans’ life from much more pressing, and at times life-threatening, concerns. For most of us it will always be impossible to imagine the stress involved with living a covert life, being watched constantly by the government and its more clandestine agencies. It’s no wonder really that someone who has lived that life would feel a connection with people risking their own wellbeing in order to achieve their goals, even if they’re more self-serving than altruistic.

The book is equally fascinating and horrifying in the sections in which it describes the darker aspects of the Apartheid-era’s government, and the counter-actions of the various outlawed activist groups. The stories of torture at the behest of the government are particularly harrowing, and only highlight further the determination and courage of those fighting for a fairer society.

Later in the book Evans reflects on what it takes to be a boxer, successful or otherwise, with those reflections not always being particularly flattering. He (rightly, in my opinion) questions the commonly held idea that all boxers are gentle-folk outside of the ring, only turning on the violence inside of it. While this may be true of some, it has never felt like it could possibly be a common trait, particularly as the selfish nature of the business only serves to promote this same side of a boxer and eventually blurs the line between ring life and real life.

Evans eventually moves himself away from the most intense aspects of political activism, with revealing candour in speaking about his friends and colleagues; friends and colleagues who found it difficult to adapt to life without the chaos and adrenaline of living in the shadows, and plotting against a government bent on oppressing the majority of the society it purported to represent. Again, this is a perfect analogy for how difficult it is for so many boxers to move on from their professional careers, the highs and lows coming in equal measure. This only highlights further the comradeship felt between those who made up the two major factions of Gavin Evans’ life.

Anyway, for those of you reading who also go out of your way to try and shape a fairer future for people… solidarity. Your efforts do not go unnoticed.