Could 26 hours be better spent? We don't think so.
By Shannon Raj

When I was signed up to be a dancer at Dance Marathon my freshman year, I was in a car accident just three weeks before the event. I was okay, but I was still in the midst of physical therapy as DM drew closer. My mom, being a mom, pleaded with me to reconsider putting my body through 26 hours of strain: "We'll still donate the money to you," she said, "but why on earth do you have to dance the whole 26 hours? Can't you just do ten or fifteen? What does that have to do with pediatric AIDS so long as you raise the money?"

A Daily Bruin writer raised this same point in a Viewpoint article last week -- Why do we dance for an entire 26 hours? Is such exhaustion really necessary? And truly, how does dancing relate to fighting AIDS? Considering that Dance Marathon's dancer registration closed on Friday with some 945 students signed up to dance, these are questions worth addressing.

The answer is that every year, hundreds of students participate in Dance Marathon to stand -- literally -- for something bigger than themselves. Raising money is one thing, and it's a huge part of what DM is about, but it's not the whole story. The 945 students who have signed up to dance are, in effect, protesters, activists participating in a mass demonstration to attract attention for what may well be the most pressing issue of our generation.

The dancers may not realize it, but the attention and awareness they generate by dancing is arguably as valuable as the money they raise: Last year's DM raised over a quarter of a million dollars, with immeasurable impact on thousands of lives (especially considering an $8 dose of medication can save a child) but think for a moment about the awareness that was distributed in addition to all that medication: with 700 dancers, each talking to ten or fifteen friends about the event -- suddenly 10,000+ individuals have been reached, and the awareness spreads exponentially from there. Add to that the media attention that DM generates: the event has been featured in the LA Times, US Weekly, on Fox 11, KTLA, ABC 7 and CBS, to name a few. It has attracted the attention of dozens of celebrities, community activists, corporate donors and philanthropists, and even inspired Stanford to start their own Dance Marathon. While it may seem like a giant dance party, it's one of the most effective forms of student activism ever known to UCLA. 

Last week's Viewpoint contributor argued that something didn't seem right about listening to the stories of children with AIDS and then continuing the dance party and "bringing sexy back." Irreverent? Maybe. But healthy UCLA students deciding to celebrate their life and health by dancing -- all the while raising money for those without -- seems an entirely appropriate way to honor the lives of those who can't dance themselves, yet with medication, may one day be able to. Moreover, this sort of physical challenge to celebrate life is the premise for almost every effective fundraiser -- AIDS walks, breast cancer marathons, Relay for Life... They work because people know that confronting these issues doesn't have to be depressing or solemn -- it can be positive, empowering, energizing, and fun, too.

Finally, last week's article said that "more than a full day of dancing is kind of insane." We can't argue with that. Participating in Dance Marathon is an extraordinary act, and that's why it works.   People stand up and take notice when college students choose to dedicate an entire weekend to an incredible cause. Holding a demonstration where students dance for 26 hours IS kind of crazy, but when you consider that 38.6 million people around the world are living with HIV, maybe what's really crazy is that more people don't.

In sum, it's not just the money that effects change. It's really our minds and hearts that change -- it's us as individuals that go on to make a difference in the fight, more than the money. It's the very act of dancing, of challenging yourself to feel a fraction of the pain that some feel their entire lives -- it changes you, and it motivates you to do more. It definitely changed me. Despite the accident, I went through with being a dancer, and during the last hour -- when I was sweaty and tired and my feet ached -- I danced with a girl who was HIV positive. And I've taken that experience with me for the rest of my life.

So as a former dancer, I'd like to tell you that the 26 hours are worth your while. In fact, I'm willing to bet they'll be some of the most empowering, inspiring, and life-changing hours you've lived yet.