Teaching the Binary: The Outsized Role of Gender in Ballet Training
The Royal Ballet School in its “Grand Défilé,” while impressive, exemplifies rigid traditional standards of gender expression and aesthetic conformity in classical ballet. Photo by Johan Persson, 2010.
[Image description: Twelve long columns of adolescent dance students stand on a large stage with a blue backdrop. Their legs are crossed in ballet fifth position. Young women stand in eight lines to the left and young men in four lines to the right. The dancers in each column wear a distinct costume color.]
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In my previous post I outlined the state of affairs and proposed a new outlook on gender identity and expression in ballet. As I reflect on my observations and experiences in this art form, I find that the values put forward on the ballet stage are inextricably bound up in the practices upheld in the training of young dancers. This is where the seeds of change must be planted if we are to shift intentionally toward a new gender paradigm for the future.
The majority of professional ballet dancers begin their training at a very young age. I was three years old when I first stepped into a dance studio, seduced by the sweeping charms of The Nutcracker and captivated by the endless curiosity of exploring the puzzle of my body through a precise technical practice. Even at a young age I was attracted to the exacting physical and intellectual demands of ballet training far more than any contrived image of a princess in a fluffy tutu and pink satin slippers. It was the inward aspect that spoke to me: I could direct and shape my body to move freely, interpretively, and expressively using a variety of sensory cues. It was more than pretend. It was real.
The memories of my first dancing experiences are still clear and powerful in my mind and have stayed with me in moments of doubt, hardship, and change. We can’t underestimate the influence early dance training can have on the very youngest minds and bodies, for they are destined to absorb them and grow accordingly. Sadly, the young dancer’s internal experience is too often overlooked as pressure builds on the outward physical demands of technical rigor and aesthetic conformity, both of which are indelibly tied to gender expression.
Gender division in ballet training happens quite early. Years before girls don their first pair of pointe shoes, boys are separated for specialized training to prepare them for traditionally male roles in classical repertory. This has an underlying logic: it’s notoriously difficult to attract and keep boys in the “girly” practice of ballet, and separating the genders theoretically gives boys a chance to develop in their own space. However, this logic often only further entrenches gender difference, perception bias, and training inequities.
Partnering is another important part of ballet training that further ingrains binary and heteronormative perceptions and dynamics. Traditional ballet partnering is a function of masculine strength controlling the display of feminine grace. Partnering is taught that way even before boys and girls knowingly embody those qualities. In our modern world, young dancers deserve equitable access to every dimension of dance training. Training together has far more potential to uplift the talents and expressions of all dancers.
Gender dissonance was a persistent feature of my training as an aspiring professional. I have always been a powerful jumper (typically the purview of male dancers) and I have loved the feeling of flight since those heady first days of dancing. During my high school years I was even allowed to take men’s class with the five or six teenage boys in my peer group. Men’s class (note: not “boys’” class), with its emphasis on big jumps, seemed a natural fit for my talents. Men’s class felt powerful and free, qualities so unlike the meticulous control and precision of pointe class and the intricate delicacy and softness of repertory variations class with the other girls. And importantly, in the intimate environment of men’s class there was dialogue, laughter, camaraderie, and room to ask questions and express personal idiosyncrasies, strengths, and weaknesses. The boys could be different from one another, while the girls had to be quiet, obedient, exact, and stay in line. This binary didn’t sit well with me, though I couldn’t see a way to operate outside it.
Even as a professional dancer this separation lingered. While dancing with a traditional ballet company I dreaded Wednesdays, when the company was divided along gender lines for morning class. Ladies’ class felt like an exercise in futility. I had to bear the burdens of my gender even though I’d never be--and didn’t particularly want to be--a dainty, delicate ballerina. To my surprise, my male colleagues often felt similar frustrations as they filed out of the studio down the hall. So many of us came out of these gender-isolated training spaces feeling “less than”--dejected, rejected, and tyrannized by oppressive gender norms and expectations. It is my hope that this practice can be reconceived as ballet companies rethink gender attitudes.
Reflecting on these experiences, it’s no wonder that throughout my dance career I tended to float in a tenuous in-between space of gender expression both on stage and off. I encountered a lot of resistance as I grew into the tall, broad, muscular, short-haired (not to mention brown) woman I am today. I remain proud that I have consistently defied categorization and was never easy to manipulate. My growing refusal to conform to gender norms has limited my career options and gotten me in hot water more than once, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Though I am not a transgender or non-binary person, I can attest to the fact that transgressing ballet’s rigid gender binary continues to be a persistent challenge that merits an industry-wide commitment to deep investigation and targeted, thoughtful action.
The crucial question in my mind is this: How can ballet training become relevant and welcoming to aspiring young dancers of all gender identities and expressions? There are many dimensions to consider, including curricular structure, vocabulary, and progression, and school uniforms, costumes, and footwear. Speaking from over three decades of direct experience and careful observation, it’s clear to me that the unique talents and qualities of individual bodies and minds must be taken into account in formative dance training from the very start. As the technical and artistic demands of ballet’s repertory continue to expand from heteronormative 19th century fairy tales to innovative 21st century themes and stories, our corresponding technique and pedagogy must also be rethought for the thoroughly modern young people ballet needs to populate its stages and audiences well into the future.
Stay tuned for more in this series! Next month: the tricky gender politics of pointe shoes.