Today on (in)courage

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Another lifetime ago, or so it seems, I was a professional ballet dancer.

This fun fact comes in handy for ice breakers and team building activities, but I try to keep conversations about my dancing years on the surface. Truth-be-told, pain filled those years. I used ballet as an escape. I used ballet as a way to abuse my body. I used ballet to disconnect my heart and my head from the truth of my belovedness.

During a particularly demanding run of Sleeping Beauty, I danced the solo role of one of Aurora’s fairies. The dance, simultaneously dainty and languid, showed off my feet and my fingers in a way that I really liked. One day during rehearsal, I made a small choice that I considered minor. I slightly changed the position of my arm — barely just a little. I remember seeing another ballerina extend her arm in a similar way when she performed this same dance, and I thought it looked so beautiful. But that barely-there alteration resulted in the ballet director dramatically halting the pianist and berating me for daring to change the choreography. For her, this alteration directly challenged her authority. Because, when it came down to it, I’d signed a contract and, thus, my job was just “dancer.” I was required to perform the steps according to the choreography that was coordinated with the music.

That was the day I decided I didn’t love ballet anymore.

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