A cursory Google image search of “ballet dancer” reveals striking homogeneity, and this stock array of silhouettes speaks volumes of ballet’s aesthetic standards. Image via Etsy.com
[ Image description: Thirty-two small black silhouettes of ballet dancers in a variety of ballet positions are arranged on a white background with wavy gray lines. All are of notably similar physical proportions. ]
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Since Imagery launched the Writing on Dance platform last fall, we’ve touched on race and gender as key factors for the ballet industry to consider on the path to recognizing harm, identifying absences in the community, and undergoing systemic change toward transformative justice. Race and gender are, of course, deeply rooted in our individual identities and expressions in the world, and are carried and enacted through our bodies. Together with an array of highly personal qualities and attributes, race and gender intersect in a much-discussed issue in dance: body image.
Ballet’s fusion of artistry and athleticism makes it a field that is grounded in both the visual and the physical dimensions of dancers’ bodies. In ballet, what you look like matters as much as—sometimes more than—what you can do. Ideals and expectations run almost absurdly high, and ballet is known to attract perfectionists who thrive on rigor, dedication, and discipline as much as creativity, expression, and joy. But if we’re not careful, those lofty ideals and expectations can cause us to lose our way as artists. We are made to feel that we must conform to the image of a body that is growing increasingly extreme and unattainable. We are made to feel that we are never enough, that we will always fall short in some aspect of ourselves that we cannot change.
It’s no secret that ballet has a body image problem. So what are we doing to solve it?
Much has been said lately on this topic, from a well intentioned but poorly executed New York Times article tracking the 5-to-6-pound weight gains of New York City Ballet ballerinas to unmasking the intersectional nature of racism and fat phobia to the influence of fitness trends and social media on dancer body image. Dancers like Misty Copeland and Kathryn Morgan, among many others, have spoken up about their struggles with body shaming in their careers. Every dancer who has ever felt excluded on the basis of their race, gender, or physical characteristics is dealing fundamentally with a body image issue.
In fact, I’d be hard pressed to name a single dancer who hasn’t felt disparaged or demeaned about their body at some point in their dancing life. Everyone’s story is different because it seems that in ballet all bodies are flawed in some way: too tall or too short, too fat or too thin, too broad or too narrow, too bony or too muscular, too curvy or too boxy, too flat-footed, bow-legged, short-waisted, stiff-jointed, or large-breasted… and that’s the short list! It’s absurd to think that ballet still clings implicitly to an ideal (slim, white, cisgendered, small-framed, long-limbed, hyperextended, and hyperflexible) to which hardly anyone can possibly conform. It’s painful to think that an artform predicated on expressive artistry could continue to perpetuate such blatant harm in the name of beauty.
Part of the reason these aesthetic ideals are so difficult to shift is because they are so deeply internalized in our minds, bodies, and gazes. I love my body now more than at any other point in my life, yet I still struggle with the shadow of body dysmorphia and the whisper of those perceived flaws written on my bones from decades of indoctrination and subliminal trauma. Digging in and working through this together as a community will require a long-term investment in deep reflection, pervasive questioning, conscious dismantling, and a commitment to active change.
In order to chip away at this damaging hierarchy of bodies, we must ask ourselves why: Why is this foot more beautiful than that foot? Why is this leg more worthy than that leg? Why are these muscles more valuable than that softness? We must pause when we say or think, “They’re a nice dancer, but [insert perceived physical shortcoming]” or, “They could have a career in ballet if it weren’t for [insert unchangeable body characteristic].” We must turn these hard questions on ourselves: Whose lens am I using to look at the bodies in front of me? Whose values am I ascribing to these bodies? Directors at the audition table, choreographers in the studio, teachers in the classroom, designers in the costume shop, audiences in their seats, and dancers faced with the unforgiving mirror should all consider these questions and create space inside themselves to answer them differently. This is the only way we can begin to reprogram our expectations and assumptions. Being conscious of how we see, think about, and talk about dancing bodies is the first step to recognizing their true beauty: their ability to express something fundamentally human.
“If you have a body, you can dance.” This seemingly simple adage, first introduced to me by Oakland-based physically integrated company AXIS Dance, is actually incredibly radical. Ballet has a long way to go in shaping an approach and aesthetic that can encompass the degree of inclusivity that this statement puts forward. And in fact, it’s not up to “ballet” as an abstract entity or cultural authority to do the shaping. It’s up to each and every one of us to do the work within ourselves. Communities can and should shape an artistic landscape that is meant to reflect us. So let’s make space for thought and reflection before we cast judgment on or ascribe value to dancing bodies. Let’s look kindly and lovingly at our own bodies and the bodies of others as the uniquely precious, blessedly temporary vessels of spirit they are. Ultimately, we need to interrogate and dismantle the concept that there is a “right” body and a “wrong” body for ballet. Health and wholeness should be at the center of how we perceive and interact with bodies (and minds) in dance.
Let’s also recognize that body image goes far beyond the physical; this is fundamentally a mental health concern. For dancers, a healthy mind is just as essential to our work as a healthy body, and the two go hand in hand as we navigate our often treacherous career paths in this artform we love so deeply. As we enter Mental Health Awareness month in May, let’s take time to consider the psychological and emotional origins and repercussions of physical harm, body shaming, and toxic ideals. And as always, let’s move forward in conversation. Talk to your friends, family, colleagues, and coworkers about these issues. And if you’re moved to get involved or be in dialogue with us here at Imagery, please share this post, leave a comment, or get in touch: admin@asimagery.org.
