Dancing and Aging

Like most dancers (and most women), I can be hypercritical of my body. As women, we tell ourselves that "everyone hates something about their bodies" and "if it weren't for xyz on my body, I would be happy/wealthy/successful/loved".

I can't remember meeting anyone who didn't feel that way about themselves and in fact, if a woman was happy with her body, then she was criticized by others: "how dare she think she's perfect?" and "did you see her thighs?" And on and on.

But there is a difference between thinking you're perfect and being happy with the way you look. And if you do think you're perfect, then more power to you, because it takes a lot of inner strength to inure yourself to others' opinions.

As dancers, though, our self-critics are not just fully employed, they work overtime. Not only do we have to contend with the physical image we see in all those mirrors! We also have to contend with what our bodies can do. And as we age, they can do less and less.

(They can also do more and more...I'll get to that in a minute.)

Our aging is so evident because one day we can do several pirouettes and the next day, just one. This week our legs can developpe to 150 degrees but next week, it's barely above 90 if we're lucky. Jete battu? Saute cabriole? Italian fouette? Oh please no! Let's just do another port de bras and call it a day.

There it is in stark black-and-white-and-marley-gray. We are aging. We are weakening. We are no longer the best in the class. We no longer get chosen for the best roles. 

We become invisible.

Invisibility has to be the biggest blow to one's ego when one is a dancer. We practice for years for people to watch us on stage, to be noticed in the classroom by the teacher and other dancers. As we age, we become less relevant in the dance world.

If we're completely honest, ballet is painful. Not just emotionally but physically. Few people have natural turnout or the kinds of physical gifts needed to make the art form easier on the body. To achieve some of the kinds of things we want to do (or if we were forced to do them by teachers when we were young) we had to compromise our bodies. We had to give up time to rest and heal after an injury because we were performing at the time. We had to push ourselves harder than anyone else. We might have self-diagnosed because we couldn't afford a doctor and proper treatment. So years later, we have scar tissue buildup, muscles that are not balanced, and poor alignment. Women (and many men) who had/have eating disorders might also suffer from osteoporosis.

When we get to 40s, 50s, 60s, we often say "no more" to ballet. We discover yoga or another exercise that is less painful on our joints but really? We're afraid ballet doesn't want us anymore so we leave. If we're competitive people (and dancers often are simply because of the nature of the dance world), we often don't want to be seen at our lower points. Our egos get too easily bruised.

So...should the aging dancer just leave ballet behind? Should we turn our backs on the art form we spent years studying, whose discipline shaped our brains and bodies?

If you are indeed "broken," whether in body or spirit, no amount of talk from me is going to make you return to ballet. And that's fine. You have to do what is best for you. But if your soul is still connected to ballet, or dance in general, don't go! 

Find a different way to dance.

That can mean lots of things, depending on who you are. It can mean taking a beginner class instead of an advanced one. It can mean concentrating on demi-plie instead of grand plie. It may mean skipping one of the petit allegro exercises or modifying them so you can complete them in your own way. It may mean finding a different teacher, one who accepts that you won't be doing everything or that you won't be doing everything as choreographed.

There is, without a doubt, something you do well. It might be an arabesque. You might still turn well. You might have excellent balance. Whatever it is, acknowledge it and embrace it. Develop it. Look for it in every exercise you do. For me, that's adagio. I don't have the turns I once did, nor the super fast feet, but I have balance and precision. So when I approach every combination, those are the things I look for. The result is increased confidence, increased presence in the class. I look like I am enjoying myself because I am. I love it. I love dance. I love ballet.

I'll bet you do too.

I was feeling pretty good yesterday - far from perfect, I know my body is nothing like it used to be. Can it be better? Probably. Can I make it better? Maybe. Do I hate it a lot of the time? Yup. I sure do.

But yesterday I didn't hate it. I was taking class for myself and was happy to not be in pain, as I frequently am, happy I could releve and hold my balance at the barre, happy I could perform the adagio well, happy that my body was doing things I wanted to do. So I took a picture. I wanted to be able to look at this picture and think, "that's a moment I liked my body, that I appreciated what it could do."  I wanted to see it and be reminded that it wasn't a super thin body that did what I wanted. It wasn't a super young body that did what I wanted. It was a middle-aged, average size body but I was still able to make it do things that I loved doing and was proud of.

Don't leave ballet. Just find a different way to love it.