It wasn't as scary as I thought it would be...

I’m pretty loud about my history with Ballet. My first exposure was at age 5, dancing in the aisles during a Nutcracker performance, and turned into a BFA from UARTS in 2011. My relationship with Ballet has been tumultuous to say the least, and for the past 15 years, on a hiatus (putting it nicely).

 

At the peak of my Ballet career, -2010- I was completely burnt out, malnourished, deep in an eating disorder, psychologically distressed, and POOR AF. A huge reason I got into Stripping was because I didn’t have enough hours left in the day for a ‘normal job’, and my Starbucks Barista-ing was never going to pay my rent- even if I dropped out of school and went full time. I still remember the day I made the decision; it was a Wednesday in September, I was standing at 18th and Pine St outside the Metropolitan Bakery and the edge of Rittenhouse Square, and on the phone with my friend, Will.

 

It was my Senior year. As I started out at the club, I was so grateful to be making a living wage that I didn’t want to tell them I couldn’t work the required 1 weekday a week, and would show up to my Thursday/Friday Ballet with 4 hours of sleep, although roughly $500 richer. Because of this, my Instructors would shame me in front of the class.

 

“You look like shit” they’d say.

“If you weren’t out partying so late, you’d be able to lift your leg higher. Go to the bathroom and put some makeup on.”

Hearing that made me so sad, and upset. Firstly, I was angry because obviously I wasn’t partying, I was working my ass off. Secondly, I did not have wealthy parents like most of my classmates did, I couldn’t just ask someone to send me money. I didn’t even have a credit card. It was either Strip and take care of my basic needs, or drop out of school and go back to Upstate New York (which is still my biggest fear).

 

The resentment began there.

 

Because I was able to build some security for myself, I started doing better in multiple aspects of my life. I ate better, slept more, and felt more confident. I also was learning, through the club, that all of this perfectionism that was highly sought after in Ballet World, wasn’t valued at all in Stripperland. In fact, customers responded to the humanity rather than the artistry. So the more I was being criticized in Ballet class, whether it be for hand placement or musicality, the more I thought, I’m never going to be good enough, am I? Which might not seem like a lot up front, but it was the fault line that later quaked into a 15 year cavern between myself and Ballet.

 

It began as simply as not taking an open class on a holiday break from school. How dare I? Literally. I had a faculty member tell me (and I’ll never ever forget this), “Every day you skip class, you lose two days worth of growth”. This mentality punished us for engaging in self care and rest, and taught us we would never catch up if we stopped. Whether for sickness, injury, emergency, whatever..

 

So the moment I was awarded my Degree, I simply just never took another class. Because the rest I awarded myself turned into a punishment, which turned into a fear of I’m going to be so bad when I go back which snowballed into, I might as well never dance again.  And while I don’t resent myself for that decision, because plenty of other exciting things happened in my life, I do resent the Faculty who conditioned me to believe that I had to make such a dramatic choice.

 

During my 15 year break I learned a LOT about myself and my body. I learned that it wasn’t that I didn’t have ‘turnout’, it was that trauma is stored in your hips, and mine were LOCKED UP. It wasn’t that I didn’t have flexibility, it was that I was never properly taught how to develop the skill. I became stronger, more flexible, and more open in my body with a yoga practice than I ever did in Ballet, and that made me even more angry. So now it wasn’t so much that I didn’t want to go back because of the fear that ‘I wasn’t going to be good anymore’ I didn’t want to go back because I was fucking angry for not being properly informed and educated.

I changed my mind in the Fall of 2025. I had started trying out new activities just for the experience- Art Classes, Theatre shows, Music events, solo Dining experiences, and I decided that I could take an Open/Adult Ballet class, and just see what happened. I knew I was going to have to start from scratch, in that I didn’t have ballet shoes or a leotard and tights anymore. I mean, I did- but they were relics at this point. First, I thought I could just order them online, but when I saw how different everything was compared to what I last remembered, I decided I needed to go to an actual store. Ballet slippers are not the split-soled leather shoes, or even the drawstring canvas shoes I remembered. These days, they’re thinner than the thinnest socks, no drawstring and, gasp- the elastics come ALREADY SEWN.

I politely asked if they still carried split-soled leather, (they did, although only used by younger students for stage performances), ripped out the elastic drawstring, and got over the fact that I couldn’t sew them myself. When I tried on a leotard, I was certain I’d need to size up, but was confused and surprised that I didn’t.

So. I had the gear, I knew where and when the class was, but now I had to actually show up. Which, was kind of the hardest part. When I arrived at the studio, (it was a Wednesday) I don’t really know what I was expecting. Perhaps it would be a true Adult Beginner class, where I’d somehow be the youngest person in attendance. It could have gone the other way as well, where I was in a class of incredibly skilled teenagers, and drowning in combinations I could no longer execute. I was already trying to protect my Ego- I hoped I didn’t get any corrections, or be subject to any body shaming.

The moment I walked in, I realized I was Mila Kunis in Black Swan, or Zoe Saldana in Center Stage; I was not wearing pink tights, I was covered in tattoos, and I had a big black dress on over my leotard- not exactly ballet dress code. I took my place at the barre, where another student told me I was in her ‘spot’, but she wasn’t going to ask me to move because she was ‘late to class’. How kind of her.

As class began, I quickly realized that I still knew very much of what I was doing. My mind was on top of it, and my body was doing its best to keep up. I was surprised how quickly the language and terminology came back to me. Learning the combinations was easier than I anticipated, and honestly, I wasn’t doing too shabby. My feet looked better than I remembered, my arms were kinda doing their own thing, but it didn’t look bad by any means and, my legs actually went above 90 degrees. I was like, ‘okay, yeah I’ll do this again’. And then we went to center floor.

At this point, I am so used to dancing with a pole, and a huge element to that is a lot of push, pull and tension. I really struggled to do the simplest floor exercises. I felt slight redemption when we did pirouettes across the floor, because I could still do a double. For non-dancers, I could do two consecutive turns on one leg, and I did them on the left too, which is a flex. Definitely aware of the effort I was putting in, but still feeling good about it, the instructor asked us to do petit allegro; small and quick movements, aka: jumps. This is where things fell apart. I did one round of small jumps and when I tell you my ankles exploded into dust and I needed to be swept off the floor with a broom and dustpan.. I’m not exaggerating. The instructor asked, “are you okay?” My ego was battered, my ankles were powder. “Yes” I said, “I just don’t think I can do jumps anymore.”

The end of class was something I didn’t realize how badly I missed, the Reverence. It’s a moment where you essentially take a series of bows and curtsies and imagine being in a theater that has 3-4 balcony levels, an orchestra pit, opera boxes, and is completely sold out. After you’ve completed your Reverence, you applaud. That's how you know class is over. I forgot how much I loved that bit of formality. I thanked the instructor, and told him how it was my first class in 15 years. “Well done” he said. Now, in general, I do not have a praise kink, I'm a Domme. But for Ballet, I'm 1000% submissive to the point where that bit of praise healed me.

I left class feeling wonderful, knowing fully well I was going to be incredibly sore for the next 3-5 days. All of those things my former teachers had threatened me with- the ‘losing technique’ and whatnot, was literally not true at all, and I kinda said a little ‘fuck you’ to them in my thoughts (not to Andrew, Anastasia, or Eva obviously, but if you know, you know).

I’m unsure if I’ll be able to put jumps back into my skillset, but we’ll see. I’m so glad that I was able to return to my first love and find the joy rather than the imperfections in it. I wish they offered Open Class more than once a week, because I’m very curious if I could get myself back en pointe- even if it’s just for barre. The 7” Stripper Heels have preserved a fair amount of ankle stability, even if I can’t do sissone’s anymore.