I still remember my first ballet class at the age of three. The hardwood floors sprawling in front of me, large floor-to-ceiling mirrors following my every movement. But most of all, I remember the room filled with other little girls in classic black bodysuits and pink tights with visions of spotlights, tutus, and applause dancing in front of them. Like every little girl, I wanted to be a ballerina.
14 years, numerous doctors’ visits, and several dislocated joints later, I found myself at a dead end. Most of the girls in my first ballet class had long since quit the dance world, and I also had come to terms with reality and realized that my dream of dancing Princess Odette in Swan Lake was merely as stated, a dream. I felt that the six hours a week, 40 weeks a year, 14 years of my life have gone to waste.
That would be a sad story, would it not be? The tale of a little girl with aspirations of standing ovations and pointe shoes giving up on her dream, and settling for partial scholarships and 4th place ribbons. Art is supposed to reflect the emotional state of the artist; I view my dance story as a joyful one, not one of loss or regret. So let us continue.
July 10, 2015. I found myself at the Nationalgalerie in Berlin. The museum held some of the most extravagant pieces of art I had ever seen, however one stood out. It was the same painting I had seen thousands of times in my life. A painting that adorns the wall of my dance studio: Dancers at Rehearsal by Edgar Degas. It was then, standing in the Nationalgalerie surrounded by loud tourists, facing Degas’s masterpiece, that I had my revelation. Even if I hang up my pointe shoes and never step foot on stage again, I will always remain a dancer. It is a piece that will live with me and follow me around no matter where I am in the world.
From the strict, ruthless manner of my dance teachers, I learned discipline. Perfect attendance and punctuality are priorities that course through my veins. From the various girls I have danced with for the past 14 years, I have learned newfound ways of collaboration. I have learned to apply my strengths to the weaknesses of others and to be able to communicate on stage without words or gestures. I have learned to make sacrifices after injuries and to balance various aspects of my life, such as education and leisure. I have also learned to motivate myself not through competing against others, rather than competing against myself. So while I may not have shelves of trophies to showcase my achievements, I see my personal development from year to year and I am proud of the person who dance has helped me grow to be. This year, I enter my last year of dance not with visions of trophies and awards, but with aspirations of further growth.