So this is a bit of a continuation of my previous blog post about toxic culture in the dance world. I hope I’m not being too repetitive here, but I just felt the need to talk about it more. Last Monday I was in an online class about art, because that is what being a dance major in 2020 is, and we were discussing perfection. In regards to art making, the idea of perfection is a treacherous one. Our teacher asked us to create some sort of art work in just a few minutes about perfection, and the results were no sunshine and rainbows. All of them featured some sort of pain, paintings in dark colors or poetry about the suffocation of perfection.
When I think of perfection, my mind immediately goes to ballet, and I would imagine that is a similar experience for many dancers. There's only one other dance major in my class, and it is no coincidence the both of us drew ballet dancers for the assignment. And these were not happy ballerinas. Both of our works were about the pain that comes from the unattainable standards that are often set in ballet classes. Because of these connections, I started thinking about how a lot of dancers probably have some shared trauma related to the harsh standards of ballet, or any strict, codified technique.
The thought process behind my drawing was about how the “perfect” dancer is a completely unattainable standard. When growing up in a ballet studio for 14 years, it was my understanding that there was no perfect. With dance it feels like your legs could always be higher or your feet could always be more pointed. And sure, that is very motivating! But I think this enforced some unhealthy ideas in my head about never being satisfied with myself. I was never going to be perfect, so was I ever going to be good enough?
I would argue ballet is the most oppressive and problematic dance technique out there. The first dance class I was ever put in was a pre-ballet class, and I imagine that most collegiate level dancers were also exposed to ballet very early on. I was taught that ballet is the "foundation of all dance," which should be dismissed as a false, toxic, euro-centric opinion. There were dances that existed before ballet, and they are still around too. If there were a hierarchy of dance techniques based on their perceived value in the dance community, ballet would be at the top, followed by other typically "white" dance forms like modern and jazz (even though jazz came from African-Americans, you should google it). Below that are dance styles that are less codified, more social, and usually created among communities of color like hip-hop or Native American dances. This perceived hierarchy feeds us harmful knowledge about what type of cultures and bodies are more valuable. At the top in ballet, these bodies are white, thin, flat, and tall. The specifications get even more peculiar: arched feet, long necks, small heads, hyperextended knees, and short torsos. Then there are the requirements of mobility, open hips (being able to rotate your legs externally to a perfect 180 degrees), loose hamstrings for high kicks, and flexible backs for high arabesques. We are obsessed with these caricature-esk body parts that can bend and stretch every which way; I know I am. I'm a lucky one, who fits into a lot of those categories. However, the standards inside each of them are so extreme, that I still don't feel good enough. This thinking becomes unhealthy so quickly. Especially since we are often taught these things from a young age, we do not have the skills to separate these critiques of our bodies from ourselves as people. Our self worth crumbles. I cannot even imagine the hardships faced by people of color who study ballet. I never had to search for tights in my skin tone, or pancake my shoes to match my body. The unavailability of these products and lack of representation are subtle messages that say, "Ballet is not for people like you."
There are so many issues just within the traditional dress code of ballet, some that I began to discuss in my last post, but as always there is more to unpack. Not only do typical ballet dress codes not account for people of color, but they are also aggressively gendered. A very common, and strict dress code for ballet class is a black leotard and pink tights for women, or a white shirt and black tights for men. This enforces a very binary view of gender within the ballet world and does not leave any space for people who do not identify fully with male or female.
With this unrealistic image of perfection that we must constantly strive for, it is inevitable that many dancers develop mental illnesses and issues with self worth. Eating disorders are probably the most infamous result of these toxic ideas, but I think many dancers also experience anxiety and depression. Personally, I've dealt with negative self talk, body image issues, and anxiety for years now. I did not have had a specific moment of abuse in my dance education, although far too many students do, but I think many of us have trauma from these expectations. The culture itself is oppressive and unhealthy.
Yet we keep going back. I love ballet class, even though in a lot of ways I hate ballet. Maybe in some ways I am addicted to it. It reminds me of what they say about an abusive relationship, that you keep going back in hopes of finally getting that validation. We love to critique ourselves and we find comfort in feeling inadequate because that is the only thing we know. It is way harder for me to compliment my own dancing, receive praise for my work, or receive a compliment on my body, than to point out my faults. And that is not okay. That is part of why it is so hard for me to write this post, for me to remember that I have value and important things to say.
To heal from this, we need some big changes. We need teachers to acknowledge and uplift the value of bodies that are not white, skinny and bendy. We need representation of these bodies in major companies. I truly realized the importance of this when my ballet teacher mentioned it in class this year, saying how we need to drop the harmful aesthetics that have been placed on us and to forget about whoever or whatever has hurt us in ballet (he’s the only ballet teacher I’ve ever had that has acknowledged these things). Can we do ballet without these aesthetics? I think so, but I'm not sure. The least we can do is acknowledge them, and stop giving them so much weight. Teachers must remind students that if you cannot get your leg up, or if it isn't a hyperextended, white, skinny leg, you are still a valuable mover, and person. Dance institutions must remove this hierarchy of cultures and bodies and instead require a diverse range of technique classes. Uniforms must be rethought. We must be seen as full people and not just bodies in space.
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