I Quit Dance
Why I did it and what I learned coming back
If you know me in 2018 and have seen me dance with the Army of Sass, you might not know that dance was not part of my life for two years.
I had stopped dancing. I quit.
Quitting wasn’t something that just happened. I had consciously decided to give it up. Sounds dramatic, yes. But it kinda was.
WHY I QUIT DANCE
It was 2013 — the end of my Masters degree in London, England.
I was standing on stage during what I thought was my “last ever dance performance”. I was soaking in that moment.
If I close my eyes I can still go back to the clapping, the lights, the beautiful black dance stage, the dancers around me, the voices of my friends cheering from the 10th row.
I was making a big deal about that moment because I told myself — “this is the end. You’ll never be here again.”
I was doing an expensive Masters degree in Environmental Policy and Regulation. Everyone around me was career focused and I wanted to be too. I wanted to figure out what my job was going to be and how I was going to contribute to the world. I didn’t see dance as part of that plan.
Dance, I then thought, was my side thing — my hobby, my place for self-expression, fitness, community, etc.
Of course I loved it, but I didn’t think it was something I would continue to do. At least not in the same way I had been.
I was raised in the competitive dance community.
From a young age you are groomed by your dance studio to be competition-ready. You are trained in jazz, ballet, hip hop, lyrical, etc., and drilled on your moves to look like everyone else, have straight arms, big smiles, and ladies, point those toes! Rehearsing about 3–4 times per week was the norm.
Honestly, it is what it is. This isn’t a hate-post about the competitive dance community, at all.
But the general sentiment in the competitive community in my hometown was that your prime dance years were over by age 19 or 20. As you age, you start to lose your flexibility, giving rise to aches and pains that means “you’re old”. If you want to “make it” (no one ever told me what that meant, though), you need decide early and go hard for it. Preferably, you decide while you’re in high school and then you give your life to dance.
All of this fueled my decisions as I headed off to pursue studies that weren’t in dance. I went into politics, policy, communications, environmental activism, etc. I moved abroad. I focused on my academics, friendships, studied French, and traveled.
I danced all the while. But in my mind it was secondary to all the other things I was doing. Because then I was “building” myself for the real life. I always had this belief in the back of my mind:
It’s already too late to go the dance route. Every day you don’t pursue it is making it that much harder. I’m [insert age] now, so…guess that’s over!
I joined my university dance team didn’t take it too seriously. It was fun and I kept it in that category. It’s true, it was starting to hurt my body and I was never “the best” or “the most talented”, so it always felt daunting to consider giving dance a real shot.
So, with this in mind, I completed my degree, moved to France for a few months, and then secured an Internship in politics in Ottawa, Ontario.
For two years I didn’t dance, attend classes, or express myself through movement.
I don’t even remember if I took a single drop-in class.
While I lived in Ottawa I focused on working, running, drinking, and socializing (probably not in that order).
When I moved to Toronto later in the year and got my first real job, I remained focused on the career/French/build a life philosophy.
FAST FORWARD
In 2016, I walked into a drop-in dance class with the Army of Sass Toronto.
The only reason I managed to find the confidence to go is because I knew the teacher from years back. I don’t want to know how long it would have taken me to step into a studio if it hadn’t been for that connection.
I had forgotten how to dress as a dancer and I was definitely wearing the wrong shoes.
Somewhere, a tiny voice in my head told me I was unhappy with my life. Something was missing. I wasn’t the same version of me.
It only took a few months back in a dance community for me to realize some fundamental things about myself. After my first year performing with the Army of Sass (we put on three shows a year — remember I thought I would never be on a stage again?), I took a moment to reflect on how I was back in it. In dance. Back with myself. I was home with my art, asking myself why I ever thought I should quit in the first place.
Now knowing these things, I probably won’t ever quit dance or movement again. (By the way, you can move your body at any age — so don’t believe that 19/20 year old stuff).
Coming back to self-expression through movement was incredibly important for me going into my late-20s. Through job changes, relationships, friends, moving, questioning myself, discovering and learning, dance has been a constant.
This is how it was growing up too, but I didn’t realize the profound place it had in my life until after the hiatus.
Dance has been a friend to me. Staying quietly in the shadows while I pursued other things. If dance was a person it would probably say, “I told you so” or “welcome back, you crazy person.”
Basically, dance/expression/art/friend, I need you. Sorry for the momentary blip.
Dancing again has taught me some things:
- Being a dancer is a huge part of who I am
- Movement is essential to my happiness
- It’s important for me to express my emotions through dance
- Dance is one of my creative outlets
- Dance is how I take care of my body
- Without dance, I’m not me
Since dance as my identity has been resonating with me, I spoke with my dancer/artist friends to see if they felt the same way.
This project is continued on Medium in (Part 2 — to come), on Instagram and Series.
