As a crowd of sweaty bodies forms a circle on the dance floor, a fresh wave of excitement builds. Zach Palmer raises his lanky arms to his side to hold back onlookers. Tonight, or this morning, rather, the Ohio University senior is shirtless wearing tight jeans held up by a red belt. He makes eye contact with other dancers, waiting for the floor to clear, not wanting to steal their five seconds of fame. He waits for the perfect entrance. And then, when the window of opportunity presents itself, he struts into the circle. He just knows about four moves, picked up from watching Michael Jackson music videos, but he comes across like he owns the place.
The crowd is about to find out why.
Skimming across the circle, crisscrossing his steps - a move he ripped off Monty Python's Ministry of Silly Walks - suddenly he lowers one hand to the ground, drops his body and spins, executing a break dance. The crowd roars with applause, satisfied that a signature '80s move has been revived at The Union's Dance or Die.
Little do onlookers know, the break dance is a move this 21-year-old creative writing major has used to his advantage since he was a toddler. His mom remembers a three-or-four-year-old Palmer break dancing in the dirt in front of a crowd gathered for a Fourth of July picnic.
Ever see him dance? dad Dave asked during an interview at Palmer's home in Loveland, Ohio.
Dave was blown away by his youngest child's dancing at a wedding this past summer. Palmer did the twist with a former neighbor who was in her 60s, Dave said excitedly, impressed that his son was able to interact with older people because he seems standoffish.
Growing up, Palmer always has stood out. In the single digits, he and his older sister, Ashley, were involved with a church youth group's plays. During performances he would wave to the audience or make up his own dances.
He just drew attention to himself whether he wanted to or not. He wasn't worried what anybody else was doing
Ashley said.
In Athens everyone seems to know Palmer, or at least know of him. When he and friends walk around campus, they will be stopped 15 times talking to people, OU junior Adam Vorobok said.
He loves talking to people he said.
Vorobok would know. He lived in a Wray Hall single next to Palmer last year. He listened to his neighbor talk about everything from girls to his family for hours.
He would talk the entire time Vorobok said.
Palmer has not always been that guy. OU senior Heather Longenecker met Palmer during Winter Quarter of their freshman year, when Palmer had short hair and dressed like everyone else. He still was in high school mode
wanting to fit in and not draw too much attention to himself, Longenecker said.
He was outgoing
but not crazy
she said.
Still, Longenecker maintains that Palmer always has been the same person on the inside and that he finally is letting it out his inside.
Part of the letting out of his insides perhaps includes his gender blurring fashion, pink flip-flops and women's jeans. His motives are political - to challenge social norms - and social: for him, dancing in short shorts or wearing pink flip-flops is fun.
Fun with a purpose
he said. I'd much rather see someone like me than someone who looks like everyone else.
Palmer talks optimistically about his effeminate accessories because they break down the idea that pink is a girl color. His pink accessories all have been gifts. His mom rescued the flip-flops from the clearance bin of a chain-clothing store.
I thought he'd just wear them to the shower. I knew it wouldn't bother him to wear pink
Kathy whispered from her home.
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