Life behind barres: a ballet memoir

By Leila Lois (she/her)

I’ve danced since I can remember, yet my relationship with the ballet world has been checkered. I adore the romance of ballet, the connection with other dancers and the discipline it has given me, but I’m not a fan of the historical cultural imbalances it has engendered. These are not necessary or part of ballet as it has evolved in the past few decades; we need to embrace a new, inclusive understanding of the art form.

From Kanye’s “Runaway” to Taylor Swift’s “Shake it Off”, ballet is portrayed regularly in music videos, cinema, and shows up in the recent ‘ballet-core’ trend in fashion. There are several tropes that commonly sashay into pop culture when it comes to ballet, one is the ‘tortured ballerina’. Darren Aronofsky’s film Black Swan is a perfect example of the ‘ballet dancer as a tragic mess’ cliché. Struggling with an eating disorder, exploitative relationships, and bullying in ballet companies is something not far from the experiences of a few of my friends who went into élite level professional ballet. But it is not why we dance, and I fear these portrayals reify trauma. Ballet is a romantic art form as well as a physically demanding and visually stunning athletic practice. I’ll never forget at 13, when I was hung up on perfecting a travelling step (a cabriole), so anxious I was almost in tears, and the guest teacher took me aside, imploring me to remember why I started ballet in the first place—because I loved it. Since being a ballet teacher as an adult, I have kept this memory with me, and endeavour to bring out the joy in the people I teach, focussing on why they might want to dance in the first place. For self-expression and community, not competitiveness and self-critique, two things which are the thieves of joy.

Ballet is changing and more hopeful for ensuing generations than the myopic church hall ballet and élite conservatoire ballet I learned growing up. I was a darkskinned dancer in an era before diverse-looking ballerinas were celebrated. I can’t change this, but I can celebrate the pluralistic direction ballet is heading now.

Living beyond barres

Since studying postgraduate dance, my mind was opened to contemporary dance and away from ballet for a few years. I really enjoyed this extension in my understanding of what dance could look like and have since created choreographies and produced shows that have been staged in Wellington and Melbourne. While I still love ballet, the ‘classical western’ dance form - I’m going to RNZB’s Lightscapes, opening this week- I have had to open my mind and let go of my perfectionist traits in order to fall back in love with it afresh, after a period of disillusionment seeing friends struggling under the seemingly impossible expectations of company directors and mentors. In fact, this season of ballets from RNZB are contemporary bills, featuring female and Māori choreographers, showing more inclusivity than years past. Since the #MeToo movement and Black Lives Matter movement, the body conformism and bullying that used to be accepted in the ballet industry is working its way out towards a healthier celebration of diverse bodies and inclusion. There is still a fair way to go, but I feel happy now to teach and dance ballet and honour the enjoyment we can get out of it, without the pressure.

Keep dancing x

If you’d ever like to try ballet, feel free to drop me a line @leilaloisdances_ for tips.

Written by Yesenia L. Pineda

14/07/2023

The twenties of adulthood can be filled with melodramas, morality plays, comedies, or tragedies, but that’s what the twenties are all about when you get to the foreground of your set. And believe me, I’ve had my fair share of theatrical performances to kick start my twenties in a way Shakespeare defines, “Oh it is to be!”

Your twenties can be suave, romantic, harmonious, serious, or even comedic depending on your outlook on life. Yet for me, it’s been well rounded in the form of ongoing performance that needs drastic set changes. It has drama, it has passion, it has comedy beyond squeezing your ribs for air. But it also has elements of tragedy, melancholy, and some oddity. My twenties have presented me with the elements of a theatrical performance of a lifetime. With a stage that continuously changes, I’ve seen beyond the velvet black curtains into the foreground holding all the actors as they practice and go through the emotions. Like a stage that keeps evolving to fit the dynamic of the story you have going on, and like a theater that continuously goes under development to accommodate the audience that comes in. Whether they stay for the intermission or silently leave without a glance towards the sopranos, adulthood plays the stories that it deems worthy of its running time.

I’ve had people leave during my intermission, some willingly and unwillingly, but as that scene ended another began with bits of a morality play. Scenes and scores made me question my foundation and grounding, yet it was the chorus and running time that made me go forward not backwards. Lines of dialogue, expressions, and gestures within my vivid and expressive performance made my life run through all the motions of birthing an adult. Witnessing death, birth, living through uncertainty, becoming the star of my family, pushed me into something that I never knew I could do or be ready for.

Yet, as the high notes hit and the peak comes into full swing with mics at the right setting, the senses become clear, and I noticed that life can be a mixture of all concession stand treats. While it’s all a groundbreaking show and the theater is full, the start of adulthood began with the introduction of a tragedy yet is in the process of becoming a comedy. While the show is just getting started for me and the audience in the premium box seating, the rest of the seats are filling with those who are coming in at the right time.