In the last few weeks I have read several social media posts made by dance teachers; posts that I have found increasingly more troubling. The subject of these posts: parents preventing their sons from dancing because “BOYS DON’T DANCE”.
The bullying of boys who dance has been addressed in great detail in recent weeks, thrust into the limelight by Lara Spencer and her coverage of Prince George studying ballet. I almost feel like I’m beating the “proverbial dead horse” here but I find it far more disturbing when it comes from a parent. In one of these posts, a teacher tells of an enthusiastic boy who asked to join his sister’s dance class and his mother’s response was: “Don’t be daft, boys don’t dance”.
My hat goes off to this little boy who had the courage to ask; courage that sadly, I did not have. When I turned 50, I confronted my mother about how I felt manipulated into a career in which I had no interest. My mother’s response: “You should have been stronger.” And she was right. And she was also wrong…because in my heart of hearts I felt that if I had spoken up at a young age and said that I wanted to be a dancer I would have faced the same response as that little boy. And that was something that I don’t think I could have faced.
I fully believe that this little boy’s mother is acting in what she thinks is her child’s best interest. I fully believe that every parent works extremely hard to be the very best parent that they can be.
But these parents simply do not know what they do not know.
The mind, the heart and the soul of an artist is different. Artists aren’t “better” or “special”; we are simply DIFFERENT. And this difference is nearly impossible to understand when looking at it from the outside. I did not choose to be a dancer. I simply AM a dancer. I’ve always known it. I often tell my adult beginners that “There are two kinds of dancers: those who are and those who are not.” My career as a dancer and teacher consumes my entire being and is literally THE source of my happiness. Dance is not what I do. Dance is at the very core of who I am. And for someone who is not a dancer, this is something that is nearly impossible to comprehend in a meaningful way.
So, to the parents of boys who want to dance:
“Careful the things you say, children will listen” * . And perhaps there is much to be gained by YOU listening to your sons. Think on the bravery it takes for a boy living in our culture to even ASK to dance. Perhaps that bravery should be celebrated, not ridiculed and squashed. We know that celebrating that bravery comes with risks; the risk of injury, the risk of bullying, the risk of disappointment when careers fail and dreams are dashed. But what would our world be without the risk takers?
Children only get to be children once. If your son is a dancer you can not change that. Whether you support it or not, your son IS an dancer. Do not set him down my path; a path of wondering “what might have been”. I have carved out a teaching career that I love and is the source of my happiness. But I still gaze back into my past at a performing career that never was fully realized because I simply started too late. And that is a source of pain that will never go away.
I recently met an extraordinary boy. A boy with a beautiful facility, an enormous talent and an unstoppable drive. And I took a risk. I recommended this boy for a full scholarship position at a prestigious ballet school. And he was accepted. And I hope he works as hard as I think he will and I hope he grows as much as I know he can, because in making this recommendation I put my reputation on the line. Maybe in some tiny way a little piece of me will be inside of him when he dances, and maybe in some tiny way I will, through him, share the thrill of the world’s great stages. Of course there is no way to know for sure; that is the very nature of taking a risk.
Listen to your son. Celebrate his bravery. Take a risk.
(*Quote by Stephen Sondheim from his musical Into the Woods”)