In light of Saint Patrick’s Day, I wanted to take the time to share such a critical part of my upbringing, my ten years of competitive Irish step dance. Despite the fact that I often joke the only thing it has left me with is a party trick for this time of year, it has truly made me into the person I am today. While I could sit here and write about the lessons that I have learned and the friends that I have made, it is not what the people want to know. So instead, I asked around to see what people did want to learn about this alternate universe.
By far the most popular question was regarding the infamous wigs that Irish dancers are known for wearing. And yes, it is a wig not real hair. And also yes, it does hurt. Waking up at 7am to have my mom bobby pin and hairspray down another set of hair on top of mine just for it to not come off until 15 hours later is a core memory of mine. The screaming, the crying, the headaches, the bobby pins…all of it. However, on the flip side, taking it off easily ranks in my top 3 best feelings ever.
The second most popular was the format of the competition. And quite frankly it was not much different from what you may have seen on dance moms; big stages, lots of makeup, judges, and awards. In terms of competing itself there are different levels, you start as a pre-beginner, then beginner, advanced beginner, novice, prizewinner, prelim, and lastly open champ. How you move up the levels depends on how you place at each competition, and once again yes, it is as stressful as it sounds.
By far my favorite part was being able to perform and not just compete. This time of year was always our busiest performing at parades, weddings, and bars (at the ripe age of 12). Something about being in front of a crowd and hearing them cheer for you is an adrenaline rush that I have yet to replicate.
From Thursday nights to long drives and Saturday mornings, it was filled with the same as every other sport, laughter and tears. Some of my best and my worst moments took place during those years of my life and while I may be retired, I will forever break out into a jig when “I’m Shipping up to Boston” comes on.