Before I went to high school, my experience with dance was mostly fun. I’d been dancing at a local studio since I was two years old where we took trips to convention centers for master classes, did scavenger hunts in hotel hallways and had dress-up days to encourage team spirit.
I went to the Philadelphia High School for Creative and Performing Arts as a dance major, where I nurtured my love of performing through daily training and formed inseparable bonds with my classmates. As passionate as I was about dance, it didn’t take long for my relationship with it to sour.
I’ve always had insecurities about my body, but they seemed to multiply during my time at CAPA because I was forced to stare at myself in the mirror for the majority of the school day. I became hyper-aware of how I looked when I moved and started comparing myself to the people around me far more than before.
My perception of dance became negative in a way that I never expected. Instead of an outlet for expression, I felt like I had to change everything about myself to be considered good enough. It began to take a toll on my body and I fought through pain to not disappoint my director or peers. I started to view dance as something I had to do to please others rather than myself.
I still danced at my childhood studio outside of school. When I walked through those doors, for just a few hours, I almost forgot the insecurities that controlled me. I was thrown back into the childlike fun I had been accustomed to for so long, which was missing from my high school experience. I loved being around my childhood friends and dance teachers who pushed me to be the best version of myself without judgment.
It’s common in competitive dance for a dancer to leave their home studio after moving to college. But I refused to let the self-loathing and anxiety-ridden story of my high school dance journey be how I closed that chapter of my life. So, after I graduated from CAPA in 2022, I decided to dance competitively at my home studio for another year.
I never danced more passionately than I did that year. I portrayed emotions of anger, desperation and just plain old fun on the stage, which I was too insecure to do before. The time I spent that year in the studio and performing was the most fun I’ve ever had. I found love for myself and dancing again when I thought both were lost forever.
I’m grateful to my dance teacher, Amanda, for her creativity and for letting me explore movement with her for one more season. She pushes the boundaries of storytelling, and her unbridled love for creating got me out of the rut I worried I would be stuck in forever.
She had so much faith in me and the rest of my studio to make anything she threw at us a reality. When I’m with the kids in the studio, I realize how impactful it can be to simply believe in their abilities.
I’d been teaching in smaller capacities at my studio since I was 12 to assist the other teachers, but I’ve started teaching alone during the past two years. I only teach one class a week, but I make it a point to go to the studio whenever I can. I show up to as many competitions as possible, I walk the students backstage if they’re feeling anxious and I’ve let a few cry on my shoulders when the pressure felt like too much.
Dance is about so much more than the performance on stage or the rehearsals — it’s about the village that makes a child’s journey so special and the moments they’ll remember. I’ll continue to be an active member of that village until I’m forced out because it is worth it to spend my time making sure the kids I’ve known for so long have someone in their corner.
My relationship with dance has been intricate, but I’m elated to have found my love for it again. Returning to the studio I grew up in allowed me to fall deeper in love with myself and the art form that shaped most of my childhood. Now, my love for dance is different, because as I’ve grown into teaching I appreciate the community of my studio more than I ever have before.
Reflecting on the fun I had with my peers through my most troubled periods reminds me of what dance should be. It doesn’t need to encourage self-hatred or make people feel like I and so many others have. It should be a space for kids to express themselves and make friends they can turn to and I hope I can help spread that positivity.
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