Ex-Dancer

It has now been five months since I either took or taught a dance class.  To be sure, it was a long time coming, but being ejected in the last possible minute from my instructor position threw me into a space I never thought I would occupy.

Ever since I was three, I was a dancer.  I never considered myself a person who took dance lessons as a hobby... for as long as I can remember, my whole identity was enveloped in that of a dancer's.  I started taking two or more classes per week at age 7, entering a student company at 8, and it went from there.

From the days at Ruth Mitchell's, to my three-year tenure at the Georgia Ballet, to collegiate studies, some brief professional stints as a performer and choreographer, and finally, as an instructor, I have been a dancer.  But that's all done now.

I say this now because I received a call today from a studio that wanted me to sub for them, but I declined.  A couple of weeks ago, Jan Van Dyke taught a week-long intensive at the Cultural Arts Center, but I opted not to register.  This is all very new to me.

To date, I have the impulse to bust into a full-safety at the mere mention of Godspeed You! Black Emperor, the drive to attempt fouette turns when I hear the coda from Don Quixote, and still a burning desire to create the many choreographic works I have been envisioning since I was a kid.

And yet, I am strangely at peace knowing I will likely never do any of those things again, at least not in a formal setting.  Today, I do the "doula hula" instead of rond de jambes.  I prop up breastfeeding moms with pillows and blankets instead of propping up myself in pointe shoes.  My main contact with the earth is in my yoga practice, peacefully gaining a full chaturanga instead of forcing myself through ten or fifteen sets of side hook-arm leg swings.  And while I miss the lot of it, I can say with confidence that my present journey is not supposed to involve a dancer's identity.

Don't get me wrong, I have not abandoned anything.  Whatever I have done up to this point has brought me to the place I am now, so I know that on some level dance led me to what I do today.  Dance is permanently imprinted in my body through the hours and endless hours I have given it, and it will remain there for as long as I live.  

It's difficult, still.  I was always so sure I would just do it forever.  I never thought I would be famous or great; I never even thought I would be able to sustain myself through dance alone.  But on some level, I thought I would be dancing forever.  But I'm not.  And that's okay.

There might come a time when I'm inspired to reenter the dance studio.  I might again feel the skin on my feet splitting apart, mend swollen tendons and bruised knees.  I might one day look down at my feet, covered in floor burns, and say, "Goddamn that's badass!"  If that day comes, I will welcome it with open arms.  But for now, to the dance world, I bid you the fondest of farewells!