At just 23 years old, my life as a professional dancer has been filled with experiences most people only dream of — gold medals, international travel and training with legends.
But behind the spotlight lurks much colder truths.
I have seen mothers rip food out of their daughter's mouths. I have seen instructors humiliate their students with weight checks and I have seen girls starve themselves for their unhealthy obsession with their discipline.
I have a 19-year dance career to attribute these experiences.
Growing up a dancer, I have recognized a harmful overarching constant. It is the unhealthy physical expectations set on dancers and their bodies.
Dancers everywhere dream of a lithe, lean and lightweight body to use for their sport.
Encouragement to look this way from teachers, parents and instructors, as well as comparison between one another are the roots of these issues within the dance community. These behaviors must be talked about and addressed in order to be eliminated.
Due to these and many other factors within the dance community, I have struggled with an incredibly unhealthy relationship with all food for most of my life.
So much so that I used to keep a diary that contained all the pros and cons of starving myself in the name of ballet.
That diary turned into real action. For years I would circulate through a vicious cycle of undereating, over exercising and a backfire of overconsumption.
It was an endless, toxic and exhausting loop of unhealthy behavior.
As a child, a large part of my identity was being small and scrawny. But as I grew, my body began to mature and change.
I started to feel lost inside my own body — largely due to the comments that were being passed to me from role models in my life.
When I danced for a strictly ballet studio, I distinctly remember an instructor telling me, “You were much easier to partner last summer, what happened?” She was insinuating that my body was heavier than it was before at 14 years old.
The same instructor used to pinch my and my classmates' hips and thighs if he disapproved of their shape and scowled at our stomachs if he thought he could “see our lunches” through our skin-tight leotards.
Even now, as I have danced into my adult career I have still found myself struggling to accept my body. But I am not the only one.
I have also seen how these damaging pressures have festered within the minds of my teammates, friends and family.
Brynlee Ruoti, a previous teammate of mine said this, “In the dance world, success is too often tied to body type. If you don’t have the ideal body, you’re seen as less capable.”
Training as a dancer since she was young, Ruoti has a considerable dance pedigree and knowledge of the pressures included.
“I have definitely struggled with loving my body during my time as a dancer,” said Ruoti.
She mentioned how as a child she was very short and skinny.
Ruoti described how difficult it was to watch her prepubescent body shift into its mature state through a mirror in the dance room.
“It's such a hard thing as a dancer,” said Ruoti. “I fell victim to comparison … I thought my legs might not look like my friends or my abs might not show like theirs.”
Ruoti says she was 15 years old when she noticed her relationship with food began to change. She started to see food as a negative thing in her life.
It wasn’t until her sophomore year of college that she began to realize just how important fueling her body was.
“Along with other health issues, I ended up in the hospital and I felt that my eyes were opened to understanding how important fueling yourself is,” said Ruoti.
Ruoti is doing her best to keep herself healthy and strong for her team.
“I still struggle to this day, I don't know if it will ever really go away. But I do try to prioritize my health with working out and eating well to be able to perform my best for my team,” said Ruoti.
But it is not just my generation that has struggled with this issue.
Joelle Banford, owner of Turnworx, a preeminete dance institution in Utah, is a master of her craft in coaching young dancers into their fullest potential.
But before she was working as an instructor and business owner, Banford was a dancer herself.
“When I was a dancer, I struggled with an eating disorder,” said Banford.
Growing up in a home where the culture was focused on “fat-free” and “low calorie,” Banford’s perception of fueling her body became skewed.
“It wasn’t until I left home that I started to change my behavior,” said Banford.
In addition, her passion for wanting a future family was what inspired her courage to step away from the harmful behavior altogether.
Banford is now a master teacher of turns and technique in the dance world.
She teaches hundreds of students and guest-teaches all over the country.
“One of the biggest things I have observed is that dancers feel that they have to change in order to be worthy of being believed in by dance teachers,” said Banford.
She explained that many times, students pay attention to who in class earns the most compliments and who might even be overlooked. Dancers then attempt to change who they are to match what their coach is looking for.
This impact that instructors have on dancers is immense. It is a responsibility that should be handled with extreme care.
As a coach, Banford promotes going and working with a nutritionist to ensure that her dancers are healthy. She has even denied working with students until they can prioritize their physical health over their sport.
A focus on a healthier lifestyle, and encouragement to feel their best, is what all dance teachers must promote to their students.
These issues won’t be solved overnight. But the more we speak up, the more we dismantle the silence.
Coaches must lead with compassion. Parents must model healthy behaviors. Dancers must remember: your worth is not measured in pounds or perfection.
Worth is constant and inherent on or off the stage or marley floors.