Trigger warning: This article discusses eating disorders and mentions weight loss.
Let me start this out by declaring that for the majority of my life, all I wanted to do was dance. My life was consumed by it. Being a dancer was my only dream, and truthfully, at times, the only thing I thought I was good at. That overwhelming feeling of “this is all I have, this is my one shot, I can’t waste it” not only put an infinite amount of pressure on what was supposed to be an activity, but also gave the industry immense power over me and my perception of myself.
While the industry is beginning to evolve, when I danced professionally around 3 years ago, a lot of my success or failure was indirectly linked to numbers. I very clearly remember at age 12 when I auditioned for the role of Clara in The Nutcracker, a role most young dancers dream of.
Before I went into the audition, another dancer told me that I was unlikely to get it no matter how good I was, because the company used the same costumes from year to year- and I was not going to fit in it.
Needless to say, I bombed the audition and did not get the role. It was one of those instances that maybe didn’t seem like a big deal at the time, but it was a definitive moment that shifted my perspective on the world and myself.
From that moment on, my life became absolutely consumed with numbers- my weight, my sudden stunt in growth. I could tell anyone at any given point exactly what needed to change about my body, which I was constantly working on. This obsessive mindset is anything but unique, as the world of dance offers a life that consists of spending all of your time in a mirrored studio attempting to spot flaws, correct them, and aim for perfection. In classical ballet, there is a “look” that’s often promoted by the standard that is set by prima ballerinas- tall, slender, with long necks, long legs and short torsos. These ideals haunt dancers as this standard of perfection is simply unattainable.
The thing about eating disorders is that they feel so silly and personal that people rarely talk about them. In the dance world, it’s disturbingly almost silently understood- like a dirty secret that everyone knows, and no one talks about.
It’s sometimes never as direct as telling a dancer that they need to lose weight, often it can be as discreet as companies or productions cutting dancers before they even move based on their “look” (body type), or only seeing the quintessential “ballerina body type” in famous dancers and the media.
The dance industry is not always direct in demanding this impossible standard in their dancers, but their silence on the matter is exceptionally loud when society and more specifically the world of dance places such a high value on looks. While it continues to evolve and become more inclusive, there needs to be a larger discussion on the role of the industry standards and ideals in dancers’ struggles with body image and eating disorders.
I wrote this article because it feels dishonest and inauthentic to present the front that I was unaffected by the pressures of the dance industry, and that I still do not have lingering effects of body dysmorphia that I have to work to combat every day. I spent most of my adolescent years equating my worth to numbers, and my healing is still a work in progress. Instead of ignoring the problem, promoting awareness of this issue is a start on the path towards doing better as an industry and as a society when it comes to body image and eating disorders.
Your body is the only one you’ll ever get. Your body is a constant in a world with infinite variables. It’s, at times, one of the only things you can rely on. It’s important to do your best to love your body and yourself as best as you can.
For more information on eating disorders: https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org
NEDA Hotline: (800) 931-2237