The Moonwalk’s Roots in Black Artistic Resistance

Throughout the history of the United States, many communities have had to contend with questions concerning their sovereignty and mobility. And for much of that history, someone, somewhere has shown off their moonwalk. TikTok alone has thousands of videos of children and adults alike doing that signature backwards glide in a pair of slippery socks, squeaky sneakers or newly polished black loafers. 

The persevering dance trend is certainly an ode to Michael Jackson’s rendition of the move during the 1983 TV special “Motown 25: Yesterday, Today, Forever,” that helped propel the pop star into the cultural stratosphere. But that moment was a culmination of a long and storied history of Black dance performance as an act of opposition and freedom.

The moonwalk dates as far back as the Black minstrel shows that emerged in cities like New York and San Francisco in the mid-to-late 19th century. Minstrelsy was rooted in racist caricature, with white performers darkening their faces with burnt cork or shoe polish to stereotype Black people. Some Black performers, navigating a deeply discriminatory industry, also wore blackface, often as a means of financial survival. Black performers were also able to successfully compete with, and at times even subvert, their white counterparts.

“Within the constraints of being asked to perform in blackface, there’s a lot of creative innovation, and it allowed an opportunity for performers to expand dancing and singing repertoires,” says Joanna Das, associate professor of dance at WashU Arts & Sciences.

That gave way to an early precursor of the moonwalk known as the “Virginia essence” that was performed by figures such as comedian and dancer Billy Kersands. In America Dancing: From the Cakewalk to the Moonwalk author Megan Pugh describes the move as “a slow shuffle that could attain considerable grace.” 

This type of illusion became part of what was later called “eccentric dancing” in the late-19th and early-20th centuries during the vaudeville era. Typically performed solo, eccentric dancing features unusual or exaggerated movements designed to create visual illusions or comedic effects. The cakewalk is another example of this type of dance.

Originating among enslaved Black Americans in the South, the cakewalk was an exaggerated march and glide, usually done in a circle as seen here in 1903. It was sometimes also intended to mock white slaveowners. Even within the context of racist stereotypes, such as in director Edwin S. Porter’s film adaptation of Uncle Tom’s Cabin (1903), the cakewalk emerged as a pointed statement.

Oftentimes, that jeering would go unnoticed in white spaces. But in 1900, the American Society of Professors in Dancing banned the dance move in academic performances spaces along with the ragtime music that often accompanied it. “The professors insisted on telling anyone who’d listen that the cakewalk was a form of undignified romping,” Pugh writes. “It was too silly, too easy, and—though they didn’t say it outright—too Black.”

Dance became a sign of Black social progression. Not only did eccentric dancing have a wow factor that helped catapult vaudeville acts such as tap dancer Bill Bailey onto mainstream stages and cinema, it signified that more Black people had access to shoes, a material source that some didn’t have prior to the 20th century. Shoes were critical to what tappers commonly referred to as a skate, a move that bears some resemblance to the moonwalk.

Dance innovations in the years of the Great Migration (early 1900s) and the Harlem Renaissance (1910s through the mid-1930s) exemplified a shift toward Black autonomy and showmanship, as well as a greater evolution of social dance led by the younger generation.  

“The idea is that when we move away from the plantation life and we get to the city, suddenly we can control our bodies,” says Thomas F. DeFrantz, a professor at Northwestern University. “And that means if we’re young, usually, then we want to be out of control: ‘I’m gonna show you all the things I can do.’”

In 1926, W.E.B. Du Bois’ essay “Criteria of Negro Art” challenged the idea that art should be judged through a white, Eurocentric lens. As a sociologist and civil rights leader, he believed Black artists had a responsibility to create work that countered degrading representations such as “Uncle Toms, Topsies, good ‘darkies’ and clowns.” With a history rooted in humor and exaggerated performance, forerunners of the moonwalk were seen as “buffooney,” Das explains, and were sidelined in favor of more “serious” art at the time.  

But those dance innovations didn’t fade out for too long; they were refined to fit respectability concerns. As cinema grew more popular, vaudeville figures became bigger stars by bringing their early versions of the moonwalk to the big screen. Earl “Snakehips” Tucker adapted his Cotton Club performance for Crazy House in 1930. Jazz legend Cab Calloway awed audiences with a related move called the buzz in 1932’s The Big Broadcast. Tap dancer and actor Bill “Bojangles” Robinson, Calloway and the Nicholas Brothers performed the cakewalk in 1943’s Stormy Weather, as Bailey did in Cabin in the Sky released the same year.  

Movie stardom helped bring a crossover appeal to moonwalk harbingers, where many people outside of Black communities shaped it to fit their own styles. Beginning in the 1940s, mime Marcel Marceau often included the move in his repertoire, where it is described as “walking against the wind.” The advent of televised variety shows also saw comedy legends like Dick Van Dyke perform the same move, as he did on “The Pat Boone Chevy Newsroom” in 1957.

In the 1970s, the musical variety show “Soul Train” helped redirect the spotlight to the early moonwalk’s Black innovators, particularly from Chicago, California and Harlem. The spirit of the Black Power movement—a political and cultural movement of the 1960s and 1970s that promoted Black pride and empowerment—was often personified in funk, soul and hip-hop songs that Black artists performed. The show featured dance crews that symbolized the movement’s ethos. Performers included The Electric Boogaloos, who popularized the electric boogaloo—a backwards glide that incorporates a popping style—and Eclipse, whose similar move of the backslide was adopted by James Brown. 

When Michael Jackson immortalized his interpretation of the backslide in 1983, he built on a long tradition of dance innovation and showmanship. Embodying extraordinary talent and braggadocio rooted in Black performance in the face of denigration, it’s no wonder Black performers from the Black minstrels to today’s TikTok aspirants continue to be inspired by the moonwalk as an emblem of defiance.  

This is another way “African Americans can demonstrate our artistry,” DeFrantz says. “I’m free to look like I’m walking on the moon or dance like a robot or look like I’ve got an itch. I can look otherworldly or inhuman and also super cool at the same time.”