By Kaylee Johnson
Campus News
Last week I worked up enough false conceit and optimism to attend a Nutcracker audition for a professional ballet company in Albany, New York. Teaching ballet has made me into a stronger dancer and a more confident women, so I felt I had a chance of landing a decent role, which would help me create a name for myself, and eventually open a dance studio. I was never the best dancer at any of the studios I have danced at, and snobby teachers, pencil-thin classmates, and dance moms living vicariously through their children led me to believe that my weight was holding me back. But this audition pushed me off the edge of a bridge I had been slipping off of for over a decade.
I walked into the studio in tights and a raspberry leotard, my only leotard since my local dance store only carries small sizes, and when I do shop there, the fragile female workers look at me with pity and judgment. Before I even took off my jacket at the audition, a group of teachers and receptionists looked me up and down, creating preconceived notions about my ability to dance. There was a look of confusion and disgust in their eyes, and in that moment I wanted to walk out with composure, but in my own fashion I felt I had to prove myself to people I don’t know. From there, the dehumanization escalated. Before the audition began, a group of young highly conditioned, conceited dancers walked by and pointed at me, whispering to their friends like nine-year-old bullies do. My fellow auditioners were all thin, long legged, and had their noses in the air, and looked like they had been training their whole lives for a moment in the spotlight. They wouldn’t engage conversation, or even crack a smile. I danced for two hours before I walked out with a bruised ego and an overwhelming amount of embarrassment. The audition lasted over three hours, but I could not endure one more minute of eye rolls, mumbling, and headshakes from the un-evolved staff and dancers. The audition dug up old baggage – getting kicked out of dance classes for not “looking the part,” being forced to wear nude leotards under exposing costumes, because my seven year old stomach was too repulsive to look at, dreading body measurement time at one studio because the owner would always comment on my “wide hips” in front of my classmates, and receiving skeptical looks every time I told anybody that I danced. I intentionally wrote “danced,” because this audition led me to realize that I need to take a break from the art that has broken my confidence over the past 15 years. Even though I am losing weight, and may look the part someday, I will never be able to act the part. How could I laugh in the face of an overweight, amateur ballerina when I see myself in her innocent eyes? This hiatus will hopefully give me some clarity and help me regain some hope in humanity and the world of dance.
Snobbery and the arts have always gone together. Read some books by F. Scott Fitzgerald or The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde and you will see that the trend has been around much longer than you might think. And dance is not the only art form affected – acting, music, and art all require artists to look a certain way. Even writing programs, literary agents, and newsrooms can be highly prejudiced. The fat-phobic argument for dance has been that dancers need to be in athletic shape, so they don’t hurt themselves. But in my 15 years of dance, I have always been able to keep up with my classmates, and never faced an injury. Society is evolving, and people are starting to be more accepting of individuals who do not look like them, but the art world has her feet planted in the sand; arms crossed, nose up, and refusing to evolve. This mindset can slowly, but surely be changed if the next generation of art admirers and connoisseurs stop expecting artists to fit into suffocating molds. If you are involved with any art form, remember this article, and treat all of your co-workers, or team members with the dignity they deserve. The pretentious art world may have led you to believe that you are superior, but the truth is if you can play a clarinet well and if you are otherwise a despicable human being, what do have at the end of the day? Or maybe you have fallen victim to discrimination. Don’t let the bitterness of others deter you from your dreams. Makes steps toward inclusivity on your dance team, cheer squad, school newspaper, band, and art club, for you may not look as pristine as you do right now in 10 years, and then you will know what it feels like to be treated like less of a person. Since the younger generations are so liberal, I trust that the arts will become less snobbish in coming decades, but for now I have to order frumpy leotards online and make sure I wear Spanx under my tights. I hope this article empowers women and men like myself to step out of their comfort zones, stand up against injustice, and make the arts a little bit more diverse.
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