what | if
w h a t | i f
wear|haus chi x Allison Kelley
“You have to love dancing to stick to it. It gives you nothing back, no manuscripts to store away, no paintings to show on walls and maybe hang in museums, no poems to be printed and sold, nothing but that single fleeting moment when you feel alive.”
― Merce Cunningham
As a professional dancer, this quote both inspired and pained me. It served as inspiration to keep going and sometimes it shamed me for feeling anything but grateful for “what I signed up for.” Looking back, it was silly of me to shame myself for wanting validation in something I worked so hard at. But it's true, dance is fleeting and for many it is a dream left unrealized.
I was fortunate enough to have the privilege and support to pursue a career in dance, but I can’t say it was always looked at as a worthy career. I often felt people scoff at the thought of pursuing a career in art. It left me questioning the validity of chasing a dream. While I gave up a lot to chase that dream (financial stability, a normal social life, good health insurance, just to name a few trivial things...) I always felt lucky to be doing something that filled me. I thought that maybe those that judged me were upset that they compromised. Which leads me to question why we ever let go of things that fill us. There seems to be a point where we collectively agree certain things are just dreams and not meant to be kept or pursued further. Does this come from some innate sense of ‘knowing’ or is it pressured on us? We can’t deny that living in a capitalist society shapes our perspective of what success is. It primarily revolves around acquiring a certain amount of wealth and stability. But does that image have to deny the things that fill us in other ways?
wear|haus tends to attract former dancers. One such student is Allison Kelley who wanted to be a part of the haus blog for this very topic. After being hesitant of dance-fitness for fear of not being the same dancer she once was, we lured her in by proudly proclaiming you are “free to flail” here. Much of the success found at the wear|haus is due to meeting yourself where you are at- and we are certainly glad Allison did. Not only have we met a new dancer, we were able to dive deep into a deeply uncomfortable subject and meet each other in our new phases.
Jess: So, your adolescent dream, or your dream as a kid was to be a professional dancer?
Allison: Yes! I started dance (late, some would say) in 4th grade, at 9 years old. I was obsessed with the idea of moving to NYC and going on Broadway, or maybe even becoming a ballerina with NYC Ballet.
Jess: And you stopped dancing just before college, because you started experiencing rejection?
Allison: I officially stopped dancing at 18, before I left for college. After doing lots of auditions for musical theater programs and getting rejected from my top choice school, I interpreted the rejection as a sign that it wasn't meant to be. I thought about what it would be like to go on auditions for the rest of my life and started feeling like I didn't have the energy. The idea of living in uncertainty caused me anxiety. I worried that regularly experiencing a rejection might not be good for my mental health. Body image and pressures to maintain a certain weight/physique were wearing on me as well.
Jess: I want to take a moment and validate that this is a very relatable situation. I think many of us have experienced a rejection. But I also want to validate the very real experience that not everyone has faced: which is a performance rejection. Getting a ‘no’ or being cut mid-audition, is not for the faint of heart. It is a whole different kind of rejection. You put your whole self out there – you work and prepare for years to show up for someone to say no. They’re looking at your body, your resume, your hair, your outfit, and your talent and not accounting for the years of work behind the visual.
Allison: Great point. The performance rejection is so personal because it's mostly subjective. It's not a race where there is a clear winner. Even if you do really well, to the best of your ability, it may not be enough/not what they're looking for. How do you rectify that? If you fall out of a turn, then it's understandable why you were rejected. You can own the "I messed up." If you did a great job and it still wasn't good enough, you're left feeling helpless and less than. It probably would've helped me to have the perspective of "I'm just not what they're looking for but I'm still talented." My perspective was "I'm not good enough, I'll never be as good as that girl, I'll never look like that." If the negativity of my perspective wasn't countered by a win and praise, it was a downward spiral.
Jess: I commend you for stepping away, as hard as it must have been. It’s asinine to think a 17 year old can maintain self-confidence in that environment. What do you miss most about dancing?
Allison: I'm tearing up even contemplating this question. I miss being on stage. I miss the ritual of makeup/hair/costume packing/checklists before a performance. I miss the closeness of my relationships with fellow dancers (backstage, in class, choreography competitions at sleepovers). I miss the hope I had, the dream that I could live the life of a dancer/performer and do something very few people get to do. The hope gave me a drive and determination that I think you can only possess when there is so much unknown life ahead of you.
Jess: To miss the hope you had of a dream that you could only possess within the unkown. Perhaps in that is the reason we leave so much behind? We come to an age where we see a path forward, a clear image of a path and a life it can create, and suddenly we are more comfortable with the known than that magical unkown we allowed ourselves to thrive when we are young. And it takes work to make any vision come to fruition- and in that work we leave those pieces behind. But maybe what we’ve come to realize through part one of this blog, is that you can pick those pieces back up along the way?