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The Women's Page
Tales from the adult dance student avant garde

38-year-old contemplates return to dance
I just happened upon your dance web site and am all charged up. It is very inspiring to hear the tales of women who have overcome one circumstance or another to pursue their love of dance!

I have a dance story, too, but I don’t know if I qualify to be in your “stories” section, as I am not affiliated with your school, nor am I currently dancing actively. But regardless, I wanted to share my story, because I’ve gone through a lot of the grief many of the women in your column experienced.

I started dancing at the age of 3, at a music and dance school that put more emphasis on fun than technique. But even as a toddler, I enjoyed the dance, and the magic that engulfed me whenever I put on my dance slippers. I thought some of the exercises were silly, like pretending we were shooting stars, but I think in retrospect, they might have been there to prepare us for future work.

When I turned 7, my mom enrolled my sister and me in a ballet academy in New York, a really good one. Many people who went on to join the Joffrey and ABT were in my classes. I studied with a gentlemen named Mr. Reilly until I was 12. In the beginning, I was really frustrated because I didn’t have the necessary preparation to do a lot of the floor work. But Mr. Reilly sensed my determination, and worked extra hard to get me up to snuff. By the time I was 9, I got to be in the front line for the floor work. For me, the improvement was not ego-based; it just encouraged me to be more serious and focused in my studies. There was an older Japanese girl in my class, Wei-Ming, who I admired for her grace and discipline. I modeled myself on her way of dancing. She taught me how to execute my first pirouhette, and I remember being so excited when I was able to fully spin correctly!

By 12, I had gotten really good, and was taking 5 classes a week. I knew in my heart I could go on to become a great dancer. I knew it, my mom knew it, and Mr. Reilly knew it.

Then the bomb dropped.

My parents decided to move to the suburbs, and we wouldn’t be able to attend the Ballet Academy anymore. Worse, my mom hinted that we wouldn’t be able to afford lessons, period.

That’s when I ran to Mr. Reilly to tell him the bad news. I was really upset, and really confused. He hugged me and told me not to worry, that I was a very strong dancer and would be eligible for a full scholarship at another academy.

I was so excited, and I told my mom that afternoon. She got defensive, and told me I wasn’t going to be able to go, because she couldn’t afford to send my sister to take classes, and if we couldn’t both go, I couldn’t go, even on a scholarship.

I was crestfallen. And angry! My sister didn’t even like ballet classes that much, and in all honesty, I knew I was a better dancer.

But reality bites, and so did my life after the move to suburbia. From 12 through 15, I festered in a world of nothingness. I gained weight. Then my parents split and I moved to California with my dad. Still no dance training in there, save for a few “exercise” classes offered at school.

At 17, I moved back to New York, hoping to attend New York University and pursue another dream, journalism. But my home life again grew tumultuous, and my senior year an academic disaster. I didn’t get accepted into any colleges, save for the local community college.

Little did I know that they had a jazz and ballet program there. The classes weren’t that rigorous, but the teacher, a former professional jazz dancer, was very encouraging of me, and the classes met three times weekly, so I got a good workout.

One day, she told us there was an open audition for the movie version of A Chorus Line. She told me and another fellow in the class to give it a go. We did, getting up extra early to line up, along with about 3,000 other hopefuls.

When our turn finally came, we were rushed onstage and given a quick routine to learn. We had about 30 seconds to rehearse, then we ran it through. We stayed on stage until they called out our numbers. The numbers that were called out were asked to leave. Mine wasn’t called. I got to stay on stage for the next audition!

Still, my luck as a dancer proved short-lived. I got the first thumbs-up based upon my ethnic look (I’m half-Puerto Rican), and my ability to retain the steps quickly. We got called up again, and on the second go-around, I made the fatal mistake of putting on my Capezio shoes. I never liked dancing in those, but I felt pressure because other people had them on, and I thought I’d be somehow more “authentic” if I wore them, too.

They were what caused me to slip and lose my footing, and be eliminated from the rest of the auditions.

I cried like wildfire that night, but after talking with my dance teacher the next day, I realized that I had done something that not many dancers ever get to experience: a real shot at fame!

My attitude changed a lot after that. I sometimes still get angry, thinking about my failed attempt, and how I felt squelched by my mom’s unfair decision. But I realized how good dancing made me feel as a person, inside. I kept up my ballet and jazz dance lessons for a good 7 years after that, just to feel good and stay in shape.

Now I am 38 and feeling the effects of gravity and my age. But I want to return to dance again. And this time, I’m going to make it to pointe! Seeing some of the older women in your profiles gave me the enlightenment and encouragement I’ve needed to pursue something that is more than a hobby for me; it’s a selfless act that allows me to just express another side of me. Now that I’ve matured, I’ve come to understand the emotional component of dance –- the communication that comes from going within and trying to feel and connect with the dance movement, not just perform it.

I now play drums in a hard rock band, and that in a way is my other dance outlet. The rhythm and the music make me come alive. But I now also feel ready to get back in with the dance component in my life, and continue to improve my mind and my body in only the way dance can do. Sure, I need to drop 25 pounds, but as my old teacher used to say: concentrate on the dance –- the other benefits will follow!

Thanks again for all the inspiration. I hope to update you on my dance progress. -- Debbie in New York