Confessions of a Former Ballerina

I have been dancing since my mother first put me into ballet at the age of three. She was determined that I would have good posture and, since she herself was a dancer, hoped that I would be as smitten with the art as she was.

On all fronts, it worked.

Example: a few years ago at a Christmas party a woman who was a kinesiologist literally crossed the room to tell me she thought I had fantastic posture. When I told her I was a dancer, she simply nodded and said "of course!"

Since I had always danced, when I was approached by a friend to try a bellydance class I figured it would be fairly easy to grasp and was eager to try. After all, I'd survived the rigours of pointe shoes, how bad or hard could this be??

Famous last words, as they say...

The first thing I was floored by was a positive - my hips were now an asset!! I had been horribly disappointed when at the ripe old age of 15 it was made clear to me I'd never make it in the professional dance world because I was too short and it was clear I was already developing hips. Short and curvy does not a ballerina nor a Broadway star make. While I stuck it out taking classes and performing simply because I loved what I was doing, there was always a dark cloud of futility hanging over my head.

Back to my first couple of years of bellydance...

In ballet, nothing, and I mean nothing, in the torso moves. everything is executed with a straight back, butt slightly tucked in and shoulders back and down. While some of that translates well and has helped me in bellydance, the whole "no movement in the torso" thing has been a nightmare. While things like arabesques and chaine turns came quickly because the moves were so similar to ballet, tap and jazz moves, undulations and chest circles were to become the bane of my existence. My chest didn't want to move. My abs were loathe to let go. It was a nasty struggle and a lot of mental strain to just let my body go and feel the new movements. It was a long time before I could perform any of them and not look like I was torturing myself!

The other nasty was my feet. For me, neutral position is roughly ballet first position with the heels together, toes pointed out:

Heck, even when I'm just casually standing my feet find themselves quite naturally falling into third position:

In bellydance, neutral has both feel together, and for me this is as awkward as trying to dance whilst doing a hand stand. What it unfortunately meant though, was that my hip movements - such as straight drops and 3/4 walks - went side to side rather than up to down. I have had to constantly make a very conscious effort to keep my feel in this new neutral and to this day need to remind myself to modify my feet to keep my movements clear.

Over the years I have become more adept at letting my body do what bellydancing asks of me. I remember to keep my abs tight to control isolations, let my shoulders relax to execute chest moves, keep my knees always slightly bent to make snakes and mayas smooth and to remember to always look up and keep my eyes open to better communicate with my audience. But still, while it gets easier (meaning more natural), it never becomes easy, if you know what I mean. Still, the years I was a little ballerina helped shape the dancer I am today and for that I will always look upon them with happiness and fond remembrance.

My very first ballet recital at four-years old