Beyond the Artist: Exploring Identity Outside Dance
By Brittni Bryan, DWC Ambassador Alum
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I was scrolling through TikTok today when I swept up to a video about finding your identity outside of dance. TikTok user gabimorando responded to the question “Do you ever miss ballet?”. Her answer brought me back to my senior year of high school when I too was trying to figure out who I was if I wasn’t going to continue dancing.
As I’ve written about in the past, dance and I have had a precarious journey, but what I want to talk about today is the familiar struggle I think all dancers have as they move through different phases of their lives and their relationships with dance change. In her video, gabimorando describes how she struggled with injuries for most of her career as a dancer, and when her injuries became chronic, it was clear that her body needed a break from dance. She said that while she doesn’t miss ballet physically, she does miss dance emotionally, explaining: “… I do miss the security and the identity dance gave me…”. When I tell you I felt that— WHOA. During my late teens and early twenties, I experienced an identity crisis. I wasn’t certain what my sexuality was, my mental health was turbulent at best, I was at war with my body, and I had no idea who I was or who I wanted to be. The one solid thing I had was dance. So, when it stopped bringing me the same joy it once had and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to keep dancing anymore, I was left facing the question: who was I if I wasn’t a dancer?
In her video, gabimorando explained that when she left dance to care for her body she had an identity crisis, and I understood perfectly what she felt. She described her journey saying, “… dance was my entire life for over a decade, and when that was gone, I had no idea how to define myself anymore”. Neither did I, which, I think, brings up an important but not often discussed mental health issue in dance: identity. Dancers usually start their careers early in life. At the studio where I teach, dancers can start class at the age of three. I started dancing when I was four years old. By the time a dancer is six or seven, they will often decide if they want to pursue dance more seriously or remain a recreational dancer. Whether at a ballet-focused studio or a commercial/competitive studio, choosing to pursue dance seriously requires taking class multiple days a week, performing seasonally, and training during the summer. It becomes your life. I started competing when I was seven years old. Between January and April, I spent most weekends competing at dance competitions or taking classes at conventions, in addition to my weekday classes. I trained Monday through Thursday for four or five hours a night. School ended at 3:25pm when I was in elementary school, and I would start class at 4:30pm. My mom would pick me up at 8:30 or 9:30pm. I trained like this from kindergarten through tenth grade. I had school friends and I had dance friends, but I always felt closer to my dance friends because I undeniably spent more time with them than I did with my friends from school. Birthday parties were always a social disaster because I had to decide if I wanted to invite school friends, dance friends, or both; what if they didn’t get along?
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I was always introduced as a dancer. Tell us something about yourself. Well, I’m a dancer. What is your favorite sport? Dance. Dance conflicted with opportunities to spend time with friends from school. I can’t come to your birthday, I have a dance performance. I can’t go to softball camp with you, I have dance class. I wasn’t upset about this, I loved being a dancer. In fifth grade, we went on a cruise to Mexico because my studio performed on the ship. I went to Las Vegas annually in the summer to attend national dance competitions. I was constantly traveling for dance conventions and competitions, and what 9-12 year old doesn’t love swimming in hotel pools, eating room service, and playing in the sauna? I loved it. But… it became such a big part of my life that I didn’t know who I was without it. So, when I started struggling with depression in middle school and high school, an existential identity crisis took hold, and I know I am not alone in this experience.
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Be it mental health, injury, age, location, lifestyle, etc. there comes a time in every dancer’s life when our relationship with the art changes. There is a grieving process we must move through when this occurs. I think a lot of dancers navigate this grief alone, but what if we didn’t have to? We live in a society that sees humans as what they do: she’s a lawyer, he’s a teacher, they’re an athlete. It’s understandable that our children adopt that same identification process. However, we are more than what we do. Our identity is made up of our biology, beliefs, abilities, language, national origin, culture, and personality. Dance is just one part of our identity, one culture that we belong to. It’s important for dancers to understand this, and it is important for them to feel affinity with other parts of their identity so that they understand they have other identities and other communities where they belong. It’s about finding balance. So, invite both your or your child’s dance and school friends to birthday parties, take a night off dance to spend time with your family, spend the summer trying a new sport or movement style— it is okay to take time off, it is okay to try out different interests, and it is important to make sure dancers understand this because the only constant in life is change and we need to prepare our young dancers to be flexible when change occurs so they can process it with strength and grace.
