Dance Shoes Are Not Pretty
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| (Photo Credit Belongs to Photographer: Amber Nicole Ginter "Yes, these really are my huge feet") |
Being an avid dancer since the age of 3 years old, I
remember when I held my first pair of dance shoes. They were baby pink with the softest glow,
and a miniature size, because who knew at age three, that my feet would one day
grow to be huge. In their pleasant but
vibrant shade of pastel colors, my small hands grasped what would soon be the
biggest passion of my childhood. And
little did I know, that these shoes I once saw as so pretty, would hold the
most amount of sweat, tears, growth, and pain that I knew possible.
Growing up at a very traditional studio (Miss Elizabeth’s
School of Dance), I took tap, ballet, and acrobatics until I was old enough to
choose my classes. At the age of eight,
I then enrolled in tap, and jazz, which would lead to tap line blackout,
regular tap, jazz line blackout, and regular jazz by the end of my Senior year
of High School. These years were filled
with much dedication, long hours in the studio, crazy costumes, and of course,
the love of a strict dance teacher who pushed me to believe that I could achieve
all things. But you see however, it
wasn’t necessarily the dancing that I fell in love with, but the experiences
that I gained along the way (at least at this studio that is). I grew to cherish the dance friends that
could always make me smile after a long day of classes. To value the dance
teacher, who although she grew older in age, always welcomed me and encouraged
me to strive for the best things in life physically, spiritually, mentally, and
socially. And above all, to see that
although the pain of this skill was difficult at times, it would be well-worth
it in the end. To these things, I owe
gratitude to my first studio, but if I were to simply stop there, I would be
missing a huge chunk of my story.
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| (Embarrassing, I know;)... I look so different!) |
After graduating from High School and this old first studio,
I felt a longing in my heart to continue dancing. However, I knew that I wanted to venture into
the land of a different style of dance.
One that was more like the Dance Mom’s show I was obsessed with, rather
than the kick-line traditional dancers of Rocketts on TV. I had always longed to dance on a competition
team, explore forms such as lyrical, contemporary, and modern, and see what
this other world of dance had to offer.
And to be 100%, completely honest with you, it was the best decision I
ever made, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Yes, my first studio would always hold a
special place in my heart, and the foundations they taught me would help me
down the road, but when I found my home at this new and second studio, I had no
idea the level of impact that it would have on my life.
Finding Transitions School of Dance just prior to my
Freshman year of College, you could say that I went into things with a very
open mindset. However, after my first
tap class, I will also be honest in saying that I went home and cried because I
went from being one of the best at the old studio, to now one of the worst. To make things worse, the eight-year old’s in
this class were 1000 times better than me, and at 18-19 years old, that didn’t
do much for my self-esteem. But you know
what? I will tell you what did, and that
leads me to someone I am forever grateful for today.
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| (The lovely Staci during a class I got to help out with) |
Encouraging me to strive for success, never give up, and
reach for the stars, both my lyrical 1 and senior tap teachers showed me love,
joy, and happiness every single class that I ever attended. They revealed to me that just because I was
the oldest person at the studio, it was okay to still be working at improving
myself. To understand that just because
I wasn’t great now, didn’t mean that I never would be. They instilled in me the courage, perseverance,
and support that I needed to keep pressing on, and by the grace of God, I slowly
began to see the meaning of the phrase, “Dance shoes are not pretty”. Sure, from the outside and empty new box
these shoes appear spotless, crisp, and pure, but it the wornness, the buildup residue
on the soles, and of course, the terrible smell of “eww, stinky dance feet”
that truly defines their character. For
you see, the next three years would begin to unravel this mystery to me, but in
essence, I would have to learn for myself
that although these shoes would not always be pretty, the pain behind their
beauty would always, without a shadow of a doubt be worth it.
Approaching the end of my first year at this studio, I was
determined to work all summer to make the competition team. Having multiple private lessons with both
teachers, as well as some kind fellow dancers at the studio, I practiced
improving my skills every day of summer for around 1-2 hours a day. And was it hard? Absolutely.
Was it painful? Well, can I say
KT tape and Icy Hot enough? Was it worth
it? I guess you will just have to keep
on reading my story to tell.
When July came, I was excited for the auditions. I knew that I had worked all summer to
prepare for them, and although these styles of dance were still new to me, I
started to believe in myself that if I set my mind to this, I could do it. However, when audition week came, and I spent
a multitude of hours in the studio, I felt defeated when all I had worked for
was crushed by not making the team.
Though my teacher said I only missed it by a point or so and was very close,
all I heard was rejection, and at that very moment, I seriously contemplated
why in the world I was doing this. Why
would or should I continue to dance when I wasn’t even good enough to make the
team? These were among just a few of the
thoughts that crossed my mind, and with all sincerity, I felt broken. I felt
hopeless, like a failure, an outcast that was now a sophomore in college, but
still choose to dance with kids in Junior High and High School. But that’s when it hit me, and more importantly,
these words rang out:
“You dance because it is a gift from God to glorify
Him. It is not for man. It is not for approval or praise, and most
importantly, it isn’t even for you. So
why should you stop something that has always brought you so much joy, just
because of a little setback?”
If you haven’t predicted it yet, I listened to that still
small voice, and decided to continue dancing, ignoring those comments of
discouragement that lodged their way into the fabric of my mind. Signing up for classes that fall, and talking
with my new teacher, she encouraged me to press on, stay focused, and never
give up on this dream of mine to improve my skills and make team (regardless of
my age, or the hours of time and dedication that it would take). In addition, she allowed me to participate in
the team technique classes because of my age, and hoped that this would help
propel the achievements that I wanted to see in myself.
Magnificently, those first few months of my second year at
this studio, I began to see the most changes in my dancing and in myself. I practiced hours on end every single day,
learned to do the splits on both legs that I never thought I would be able to
achieve, and mastered a few fouette and Al second spins. My lyrical teacher told me that she couldn’t
believe how rapidly I was improving, and gaining this confidence in myself
through 4 technique classes, acrobatics, and lyrical as well as jazz did
wonders for who and what I was becoming as both an individual and dancer. But you
know, sometimes, we just can’t have nice things; at least that is what I
told myself when I broke my foot at dance that December and my emotions
plummeted to a low.
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| (Yeah... that one definitely left a mark... Around a 5-6 month recovery period one :( ) |
Again, resurfacing these emotions of denial and
discouragement that I tried so hard to push down and stray away from, I felt
isolated and alone. I couldn’t believe
that just as I was starting to see these abilities in myself and belief in my
capabilities that I would break my foot.
Not being able to dance or do any type of physical activity from
December to April killed me. I would
still go to class each week to watch and learn the routines, but it ate away at
my soul, often reminding me of what I couldn’t do. The Devil certainly had a grasp on me, and to
be authentic, I am not proud of the Christian that I was at that time. I allowed the con artist of all schemes to
deceive me into believing that I was worthless, had nothing left, and would
never get back to the place that I worked so hard to achieve. I was broken, scattered, bruised, and
depressed to say the least. But after a
change of heart, a realization of the other talents that God had given me,
persistent prayer, and constant love and support from both of my teachers, I
jumpstarted my thinking, and returned to dance at the end of April with a much different
mindset.
And to tell you the reality, this return was scary. It was terrifying and overanalyzing. I cried before every class I returned to
because I 1) knew that I wasn’t back to the dancer I had worked so hard to
achieve (but why would I be so naïve to think this would come naturally; after
all, I hadn’t been able to dance for months, and I should’ve known that this
would take time), 2) was hard on myself, and 3) was fearful that if I broke my
foot once, it could surely happen again.
Approaching the skill with much apprehensiveness, I prayed harder than I
ever had before, and asked God to guide me in this desire that my heart longed
for. To answer your question, He did in a heartbeat.
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| (Back to the floor, I was dedicated more now than ever) |
Performing at the recital that year, I was proud of being able
to dance again, let alone walk on two feet, and again, started to gain some of
this self-confidence back. That summer,
I yet again worked every day improving these skills, got assistance and private
lessons from both teachers, started running and weight training/cross training
to build up muscle and strength, performed my first solo for my Church, and
learned that if I wanted to make competition team this year, I was going to
have to push myself like I never had before.
When I arrived at these auditions in July yet again, I was
filled with much apprehensive and fear.
My mind boggled over the fact that I might not make it again, and I
honestly pondered if I would ever dance again if I didn’t make it. Needless to say, I spent 24 hours or so at
the studio and practicing the routines within a three-day period, and after the
auditions were over, I had no idea if I made it or not. I knew that I was back to the dancer I had
once been, but I didn’t want to get my hopes and dreams crushed if I didn’t
make it again.
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| (Auditions were crazy insane, but a blast like always... Yes, I am the one with KT Tape XD) |
Always longing to be a part of something (team wise, for I
never played sports competitively in High School), I saw this dance team as a
new family. A group of friends that
although were much younger than myself, might accept me for who I was, rather
than what I wanted to be. This team
started to fill that void in my heart for not only friendship and compassion,
but what I was able to see in myself.
Being welcomed with gentle smiles, constant encouragement, and love
along the way, my first year of competition team was crazy.
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| (First competition with the Team was a great success, and a bunch of fun!) |
Performing two solos at each competition, as well as one
group number at one competition, I was surprised at how stressful, yet exciting
these times were. My small child dreams
to perform on stage came true, and after pounds of face makeup, and packs of fake
eyelashes later, the majority of my competition season was over. And to be frank, I was sad, but thrilled
because I. WAS. EXHAUSTED. If you’ve
never met the world of a competition team dancer, let me tell you something; it is HARD WORK and something that is highly
UNDERRATED. Being able to stick your
leg over your head, while doing a consecutive set of pirouettes, and grand
jetes all with a smile is much more difficult than one makes it look. Trust me.
Although I have been a dancer since the age of 3, it wasn’t until I
experienced this side of dance, this extreme, beautiful, and hard-working side
of dance that I realized just how much one could put into this facet of their
lives.
During this competition season, God finally blessed me with
some wonderful friends at college that I had been praying about for years. Not really obtaining the true college
experience of true friends and having fun until this year, I began to realize
that while dance had filled the place in my heart that I was looking for, my
friends also supported me in this dream, and wanted to support me every small
step of the way. And slowly but surely, I began to understand that while I needed this
experience of dance all along, I wasn’t doing it any longer to gain friends, or
be with people who would accept me for me (because my new friends were doing
this and dance was never meant to fill this void in the first place), but I was
doing it for God, and I was doing it for me. To prove to myself that after years in a
traditional studio where I was stiff as a board, not making team the first
year, breaking my foot, and finally becoming the strongest that I had ever
been, I could do this, and I did.
Now approaching the end of my third year at this studio, I
look forward to the recital, and nationals that we have in store, but I am also
tired. Going to college full-time,
maintaining the high standards in academics, religious, social, and personal
standards that I set for myself both in and out of the studio, working two
jobs, and still hanging out with friends is exhausting. Do I love everything that I do? Yes.
Would I trade these experiences for a life of silence and boredom? Never in a million years. Am I glad that I fulfilled these dreams? A million times yes, yes, and yes. But am
I ready to move onto the new chapter that God has in my life? Not yet, but I will be.
Finally approving a dance club at my college after a year of
work, I am blessed and proud to say that OCU is allowing myself and a friend to
have meetings, performances, and practices throughout the semester. Combining my love for friends, the campus,
and now dance all into one makes me feel excited for the future, and overjoyed
with how God will use me and this club to share the true beauty and love of
dance throughout the campus.
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| (Team work makes the dream work.. at least that's what us dance captains say ;)) |
Thus, with a heavy heart, I am writing this letter to say
that this will be my last year dancing at this second studio. Although I want with all my heart to keep on
dancing, and it will always be a part of me,
I feel that it has fulfilled the duty it was meant to in my life, and lead me
to even greater things that I am set out to do (such as the dance club at my
campus). Though it won’t be the same
as seeing my favorite teacher day after day, or week after week at the studio,
nor as loving as the silly children that make me laugh in ballet, or dance like
chickens to make me laugh before I perform on stage, I know that God has great
plans in store for me, and even as I grow in this new direction, He will allow
a part of it to forever remain in my heart.
In this journey of dance, I have learned things about the
skill and things about myself that I couldn’t learn anywhere else. To my first studio and dance teacher (Miss
Elizabeth), I thank you for the traditional form and value that you placed on
dance. For always believing in me,
showing me my first love for dance, and encouraging me to never give up. To my second studio, and my home away from
home through teachers, friends, and fellow dancers, I thank you for showing me
this other world of dance. For welcoming
me with open arms even though my age is so much older, pushing me to see the
best in myself, and to always work for the things that I want to achieve. To
Staci, I thank you for helping me to see the progress I have made throughout
the years even and especially when I am unable to see these things in myself. For laughing in solo practice when I yelled
“YAS, I’ve never nailed that double pirouette before” because you understood
the light in my eyes for that accomplishment, and reminding me week after week
by saying “Amber, do you remember when we
first started your private practices and you couldn’t even do a single
pirouette. The accomplishment you’ve made is crazy, and it hasn’t even been
within that long amount of time”.
And to God, I thank you for this beautiful gift that you gave me to
worship you. Although I know that you
have blessed me with other things such as running, singing, playing the piano,
and writing, I know that this form of art is special to you, and I am excited
to see the places that you will take me with them.
To dance, thank you
for all that you have done in my life.
For always being there for me when it felt like no one else was, and
constantly pushing me to compare myself to no one but the dancer I used to
be. Thank you for reminding me that
while I may not be able to see the improvements and progress in myself, it is
about the journey I took to get there, and the things that it taught me along
the way. Through the sweat, pain, heartache, and even broken foot, I owe these
things to you, and as I approach my last few practices, I am filled with tears
that will for now, have to be wiped away by the soles of my dancing feet
hitting the floor, and attempting to fall gracefully on my knees.
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| (You can't see my face which is GREAT, but one of my last competitions) |
So, no, dance shoes
are not pretty, but I will tell you what they are. They are courage
to get back up again when you feel like you’ve lost all hope. They are strength
for after you’ve failed a hundred times, pushing you to dig a little deeper,
and try a little harder. They are victories that we choose to see in
ourselves through the prize of calloused feet, ripped off toenails, broken
limbs, and tainted hearts that are emotionally connected to the words of our
music. They are perseverance in the midst of chaos, comparison, and denial of
self. And in an essence, they are hard-working, for the skills that I
learned in the studio were ones that I not only applied in my routines, but in
my heart, spirit, mind, and soul as I went out into the world that I
faced. They are practicing the same move over and over again until “just one more
time” becomes a monotone voice that you hear as you try to sleep. They are dedication,
love, and confidence, but are only built when you finally choose to
see the difference between the dancer you
once were, and the dancer that you are now.
To my dance shoes, and my teachers, I owe this all to you.
Dance shoes are not
pretty, but they’ve taught me what that means to be when I’m in them. Forever I will dance, but in this journey
especially, I hope that they continue to remind me of the purpose they’ve
fulfilled in me.
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| ("Dance shoes are not pretty, but they've taught me what that means to be when I'm in them") |
