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I Have to Keep Moving

The Story of a Broken Dancer

By: Giovanni Pinto

JOUR 370 - News II: Advanced Journalism

Fall 2015



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Always two inches more

BRISTOL, RI __ The room is dimly lit. Stage lights bounce off the walls constructed of

mirrors creating a halo affect in the room. Fifteen dancers are sprawled out on the floor

in various positions. All are wearing some sort of moveable workout clothing. Sweats.

Leggings. Leotards. Tanks. Long sleeves, or sweaters over the tanks. The dancers stretch

their long limbs to either side of their bodies. Toes pointed. Then flexed. Ankles crack.

Toes crack. Hips pop. Dancers show relief from the cracking and popping coming from

their limber bodies. They stretch their hamstrings. Legs straight. Back flat. Touch the

toes. In the midst of the stretching, Prof. Michael Bolger struts into the room. A tall, thin

man with lanky, swaying limbs walks to the front of the room as he is greeted by the

elastic dancers on the floor.

Bolger, an adjunct professor at Roger Williams University, has an MFA in

Interdisciplinary Art. At RWU, he teaches two dance courses. Intermediate Modern and

Jazz, and Ballet. This is his Ballet class. Having started ballet as a child, it has a

significance in Bolger’s life. “Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy modern dance,” Michael says

to the class. “But, ballet is home for me.”

Michael glances over to the right side of the room at the baby grand piano. Behind it sits

another artist. A musician. His name is Michael too. This Michael plays the piano for the

class during their exercises. The Michaels look at each other and nod in synchrony.

“Okay get to the barre, class is starting,” Bolger says.

All 15 dancers stand and walk over to the barre that surrounds the perimeter of theroom. Unlike a regular bar, in ballet, it is spelled “barre” to keep its French roots in the

practice. Each dancer knows ahead of time where their designated barre space is.

Scattered around the room, each barre space has a correlating mirror slab allowing the

dancers to check themselves out and adjust positions cleanly.

The barre is wood. About an inch in diameter, the barre fits any sized hand with ease. All

15 movers in the class hold the stained, wooden barre. Their left hands delicately grip

the barre while their right facing the center of the room. Their professor gives them

instructions. “Trot, pliés, then tondus.” He claps, and the piano man begins a soft tune.

The dancers now face the barre. They stare at their own reflection inches from their face.They begin.

These exercises are performed at the start of every class period. No matter how

advanced the class may become throughout the semester, Bolger likes to begin class

with the basic fundamentals of ballet. “It helps them get into their bodies, and feel

where they are at that day,” he says. Once completed with the first exercise, the dancers



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pause. Their professor does not need to address any errors in performances, so they

move on to the following two exercises.

There is a relaxed feel of the room. The relationship between the professor and students

is a strong one. This is not always the feel of other ballet classes. Students tell stories of

how in classes back home, teachers would yell if the smallest error was made. This is not

the attitude Bolger takes with the class. “I can’t be like that,” he says. “At my other job, I

work with three and four-year-olds, if I yell they cry.” His lack of yelling does not display

any lack for critique however.

Exercise after exercise. Left. Then right. Bolger paces around the room, observing all of

his dancers. Visible errors being made are corrected by addressing the student and

showing a resolution. At the end of each exercise, he states what he saw in their

movement. Errors. Triumphs. Bolger points out the mistakes in the room, but also gives

compliments. Compliments mean that a dancer is showing great form. Critiques are

given to those breaking form. “You guys need to focus on your form,” Michael says to the

class. “When you get sloppy, it shows.”

Michael stresses to the class that form is important to assure that the exercise and

movement is done eloquently. Nothing about how bad form can result in a serious

injury. The stresses on all of Michael’s critiques are about making the performance

better. “Look,” Michael says to the dancers watching. “There is a difference between,

‘Dying Swan,’ and ‘Giselle’.” This comment directed toward the reportedly sloppy rond

de jambe exercise.

Forty-five minutes go by. The dancers have stripped down to their bottom tank. Sweat

beads glisten on their foreheads. The dancers are on their last barre exercise, grand

battement before moving to “center work.” The dancers stand tall. They listen to the

piano man for a count of eight. Their weightless, featherlike right arm floats above their

head, slightly bent. Right leg straight. Kicks straight up. Then down. This is repeated

twice more front. The arm then transitions to the side, second position. Right leg kicks

to the side. Three times, like the front. The final transition to the back, for the same

three kicks. The performers then switch sides and do the same on their left legs.

The exercise ends. Eyes around the room all peer toward their professor whodisappointingly shakes his leg and bites his lip. “Both legs need to be straight, and you

need to kick high for this exercise,” Michael says with a harsh tone. “Your legs should be

like arrows, and if you think you’re kicking high, there is always two inches more.”

Nothing in Bolger’s critiques stated that if legs aren’t straight, especially the standing

leg, the dancer risks falling back into the hip socket. This creates unneeded tension to



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the hip and knee, which could result in a torn meniscus, cartilage tear in the knee, a

common athletic injury. His critique also brings to light how dance teachers are

obsessive over the height of the kick rather than the control. If told to force a leg higher

than it can controllably go, form becomes disoriented. This, however, is not a teaching

pattern that only Michael follows. It is followed by many ballet instructors around the

world.

In this class alone, there are already two dancers who have sustained an injury and are

still in the healing process. One stands on the right side of the room. Grace Nevin stands

at the barre with a brace on her right knee. Having hypermobility syndrome, Nevin has

hyperextended knees, or knees that swoop back. An abnormality glorified by the world

of ballet. When in a modern dance class, Nevin says she is constantly reminded to not

lock her knees. But, when put in ballet, “If a teacher knows my knees swoop back, they

tell me the opposite,” Grace says.

On the opposite side of the room, in the front of the studio, standsMaggie Sabella. She

appears to be all healed with the absence of her medical boot, but Maggie is still healing

from a broken foot. After being told to leap higher in rehearsal at her studio back home,

Sabella landed the wrong way on her foot and broke it. This left her in a medical boot

from June until the first week in October. “During that time, I wanted to do nothing

more than dance,” Maggie said. In class, Maggie still cannot do any jumping or leaping

and has to sit out while the class performs.

When moving across the floor, or in “center work,” the exercises are mobile and move.

The exercises in this portion of the class involve more focus on maintaining turnout. In ballet, turnout is a rotation of the leg which comes from the hips, causing the knee and

foot to turn outward, away from the center of the body. This rotation allows for greater

extension of the leg, especially when raising it to the side and rear.

The movers are asked to perform an exercise. They stand in fifth position.One foot is

placed in front of, and in contact with the other, with the heel of one foot aligned with

the toe of the other foot. There are two fifth positions, depending on which foot is in

front, for the start of this exercise; the right foot is in back. They move through first

position. The feet point in opposite directions, with heels touching. Then close the right

foot front in fifth. The left foot now replicates that movement. The right foot goesstraight out to the side. The dancer does a plié. The legs then straighten. Left foot points

and closes front. The right foot steps back. Prep. Then, a single turn.

Michael, sitting in front of the class, makes the same look as before. He shakes his leg

and bites his lip. The dancers stand and look at the ground nervous of making eye

contact with the dissatisfied professor in front of them. “You are not remaining turned



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out,” Bolger calmly says to the class. “Your heels need to be forward, and you can’t roll

into (pronate) your feet because you will hurt your ankles and knees.” Injury is now a

topic in the class.

It is evident that teachers know what causes injuries and what prevents them. Dancers,

in this case, who are anywhere between 18 and 21, are retold to always have perfect

lines, preferably hyperextension. Become as flexible as possible; force your joints into

poses. And, kick as high as imaginable, even if it’s unnatural. But, when an injury

occurs, the vocabulary alters. The perfect lines, extreme flexibility, and high kicks, now

have derogatory meanings. These practices that can cause injury are glorified and

idolized in the dance world. It isn’t until a dancer sustains an injury that these practices

are then frowned upon.

If this is being reinstalled in adult dancers, how are children first being addressed?

Children, especially the three and four-year-olds, Michael teaches, are too young to

begin structured dance like ballet, so they start with basic movement classes to blow off

steam and become infatuated with dance. It isn’t until around the age of eight that

dancers can become truly serious about a structured dance class. Even at the age of

eight, dancers are too young to understand and comprehend what bad form could do to

their bodies. They are unaware of the consequences that can come with hyperextension.

They are unaware of the consequences that can come with extreme flexibility. They are

unaware of the consequences that can come with forcing their mobile bodies into forced

positions. This makes them perfect specimen to mold.

Starting structured dance at such an age allows the body to mold itself to the

movements. Adolescent dancers may not be aware of them, but their bodies begin

altering operational factors to make dance easier. This can mean that a dancer acquires

hypermobility syndrome. This can mean that a dancer has a natural turnout. This can

mean that a dancer has an always erect back. They may not be aware of it, but it

becomes pertinent in the latter years of dance.

Now, at the ages of 18 to 21, dancers, some of which have been dancing for 17 years have

reaped the “benefits” of ballet. Looking around this studio space, dancers are sitting up

pin straight. There necks do not dip below their chin-line. Even during long periods of aseated position, you can expect perfect posture. Some dancers display their extreme

flexibility. Even before a warm-up. This is what creates the cracks and pops in the room.

Finally, there are the dancers with hyperextension standing with swooped knees. One

with an apparent injury.



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It seems as though there should be some type of obvious solution to injuries in dance.

Stopping bad form. This is a problem, but not the main issue. Going back to the

fundamentals of dance and what is glorified and idolized is the source of the problem.

This idea of what is beautiful creates a desire for attainment. Dancers desire what they

believe is the perfect body for dance. It is not a perfect body. It is one that causes injury.

It is one that causes unnatural aspirations. It is the balletic body.

The Broken Dancer

A girl, no longer seen in an RWU ballet class, sits at a table in the University’s Global

Heritage Hall. She has sustained far more injuries than the young, hopeful dancers in

Michael’s class. She is 20. Alissa McGeehan is petite. At 5-foot-3, “On a good day,” her

body shape superficially appears to be comparable to that of the traditional ballet

dancer. She; however, has sustained four major injuries that have left her thinking about

whether or not dance is for her.

“I started dance at three, like the typical little girl story,” Alissa says with a giggle. “I just

really enjoyed dancing around and moving.”

Alissa felt at home with the comfort of a dance floor underneath even her adolescent

feet. It wasn’t until she was in fifth grade, when Alissa took multiple classes a week, that

she started to take it serious. The next level for Alissa was auditioning for the pre-

professional ballet program at her school in Winchester Massachusetts. This program

offered different levels for the students as they progressed with age. So, the younger kids

started in the lower levels. “Hands down, ballet is my favorite style of dance,” Alissasays. “I love how technical and clean it is, it is just a beautiful thing to watch.”

Alissa kept with dance. She loved it. It was her passion. In eighth grade, she began doing

summer programs with professional ballet companies. Her following two summers were

spent at the Boston Ballet. The first time around, Alissa wasn’t in a position she

preferred to be in. Week’s prior to attending Boston Ballet for the first time Alissa

sustained a sprained ankle. This left her in a walking boot for a healing period of six to

eight weeks. In the time she focused a lot on her upper body movement and strength

training. “The instructors at Boston Ballet were very helpful,” Alissa said. “They taught

me how to maintain a strong healthy body with an injury.”

In the following summer going into her junior year of high school, Alissa did a program

with festival ballet in Providence. In this program, Alissa was performing a variation of

Paquita, a ballet based on a gypsy girl who saves a nobleman and discovers that she too

is of noble blood, so they are able to marry at the end of the performance. “During

rehearsal, I was jumping and landed the wrong way on my foot,” Alissa said. “I am used



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to being in a little pain when dancing.” Ignoring her pain, Alissa performed the piece at

WaterFire. During the performance, she noticed that her ankle started swelling up. Her

ankle was sprained again. Another six to eight week healing process. Alissa clunked

around in another boot.

Alissa’s final summer program, with Joffrey Ballet was her favorite. It offered more

information than she ever expected. “I got to live right in the heart of the financial

district,” says Alissa. “We had dance classes Monday thru Friday, and on Saturdays and

Sundays we could tour the city and do whatever we wanted.” Alissa was thrilled. She was

doing exactly what she wanted. It was not without hard work though.

“We had your typical eight hour day,” Alissa said. “We had a set schedule from nine to

five that changed each week.” Her alternating schedule revolved around different

workouts. Different dance styles. Different performances, ten of them. Different

choreographers. The day started light. By the end of it, they were sweat soaked and

ready for nothing more than to lie horizontally in their beds and get the stress gravity off

of their aching and quivering limbs. Alissa was enjoying the hectic world of dance. She

was not fazed. She was thrilled.

Rehearsals like this can be straining on the body. All day dancers are using every muscle

in their body to hold poses. Hold extensions. Hold that perfect line. It is exhausting.

During a rehearsal on one of Alissa’s many eight-hour dance days, she performed a leap.

In mid air, she pointed her foot too much and she felt a pop. “I knew I had injured

myself again the second I heard the pop,” Alissa said. “I mean I got injured in mid air,

which is kind of weird and cool.” Alissa wasn’t given a medical boot this time. She had touse crutches around New York City for a week as she waited for an appointment with a

specialist.

Alissa was able to get an appointment with the Dr. Hamilton, the MD for the New York

City Ballet and the American Ballet Theatre. “He knew exactly what I had after I

explained to him all the injuries I had sustained,” Alissa said. “I have hypermobility

syndrome. I was relieved that there was something physically wrong with me and I

wasn’t just clumsy or a bad dancer.” This means that Alissa’s joints can move past the

normal movement range. This is where hyperextension stems from. The hyperextension

seen in Grace’s swooped back knees. The hyperextension seen in many dancers. Alissa was not the first to be diagnosed.

On his website, Dr. William G. Hamilton writes that, “Hypermobility syndrome is what I

diagnose dancers with the most. Foot and ankle problems are of particular concern

because they are frequently misdiagnosed.”



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Alissa is not alone, and she knows that. “When you walk into his office, you see all these

signed headshots of Prima Ballerinas,” Alissa says. “It is really amazing to think that

even the best of dancers get injured by having this. It may give us perfect lines, but it

makes us more susceptible to injury.”

Hypermobility syndrome, although in most cases is hereditary, can also be formed after

being an active dancer for an extended period of time. The body, particularly young

bodies, are like minds, and absorb information and adapt to perform tasks at a higher

level and with more ease. Ultimately, a dancer’s body can shape around the movements

that are repeated almost daily. “The doctor never told me specifically if my case was

hereditary,” Alissa said. “But, dancing so much and the amount that I did didn’t help

especially considering dance is such a high demand art.”

The syndrome and current injury would not slow Alissa down. “I would go to Physical

Therapy everyday after dance,” Alissa said. “I knew I needed to get back to being really

strong so that I could dance in college.” The injuries would not alter Alissa’s mind. The

syndrome would not alter Alissa’s mind. She was determined to continue her dream and

dance in college, making a career out of her passion.

Origins

Dance has been a part of the earliest forms of human life. It is something that began

with the first steps of man. When people ponder this idea, confusion sets in. How could

people dance before barely walking? People have a set idea in their minds that dance has

not changed throughout history. They believe it is like most other forms of art that havestayed constant through wars, massacres, immigration, and time. Dance, on the

contrary, has undergone a great deal of change throughout history.

The original styles of dance were seen in rituals, ceremonies, and entertainment prior to

mass human populations. “Archaeology delivers traces of dance from prehistoric times

such as the 9,000 year old Bhimbetka rock shelters paintings in India and Egyptian

tomb paintings depicting dancing figures from c. 3300 BC.” These discoveries of tomb

art not only portray dance in its earliest forms, but also show how dances were passed

down through generations (Lansdale & Layson, 1994).

Rituals and ceremonies were important in the earliest civilizations, so passing them

down through generations was a vital aspect of dance. It is also difficult. As Jack

Anderson writes in his book titled, Ballet & Modern Dance A Concise History, “Dance is

the most perishable of the arts.” Dance is forever in danger of vanishing from society.

Many choreographers do not attempt to preserve their dances. Most perform their piece



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a few times, and then move on to the next. Today, we have film, and like the tomb

paintings of ancient civilizations, we have written notation.

Usually, dances are preserved—if they are preserved at all—only in the memory of

the artists who perform them. But memory is fallible, and steps can easily be

changed or forgotten (Anderson, 1992)

Dance, although the most perishable of the arts, as Anderson states, has maintained a

sort of constant art form in societies across regions and changing times. It, along the

course, has adapted and altered in many ways. Being influenced by people, societal

issues, other forms of art, and a constant change of what is aesthetically pleasing.

One of the biggest influences on bringing dances into the Royal Courts wasCatherine de

Medici. Originally from Florence Italy, Medici moved to France to marry Henry II.

Arriving in France, Medici brought with her an Italian aesthetic that changed the

culture. This new aesthetic focused a lot on appearance; she brought cosmetics, face

powder, mirrored walls, which lit up the room, and a love for dance. Medici changed

history when she planned a royal wedding, bringing with her a musician and dance

master to choreograph for the event. His name was Beaujoyeulx, and he was known as

the first choreographer. After that wedding, Catherine de Medici became known as The

Mother of Ballet Comique (Anderson, 1992).

Ballet comique became a royal favorite. Performers would come to the palaces of the

royal families and perform in their great rooms. Observers would watch from above.

With this aspect, the dancers focused more on geometric shapes and patterns, ratherthan jumping and leaping, to make the performances more appealing to the onlookers

above. The performances were full of personal and political references, and lasted for six

hours at a time. This was the most famous style of dance in the 16th century (Anderson,

1992).

The 17th century brought a change in the dance world. A change led byLouis XIV , or the

sun king. Art, performance, and life became a fused event as Louis opened his private

chambers up so statesmen could observe his daily rituals, one of which was dancing. The

popularity of dance sharply rose with the king’s eminent passion for dance. Louis even

partook in dancing, and his instructor, Pierre Beauchamps, was the king’s highest paidservant. It was Beauchamps that then created the mere foundation of ballet, turnout and

the five positions of the feet. Both of which were derived from a fencer’s stance.

With this new profound love for dance, there was also a shift performance wise.

Performances were shifted out of ballrooms and into the proscenium stage, allowing

both group and solo actions. The scenic possibilities changed—3D aspect—a different



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use of levels to symbolize heaven, earth, and the underworld. The new use of the

proscenium stage initiated careers in dance. The observers could not participate

anymore; they had a strict audience role. This boosted professionalism in dance because

the mediocre noblemen were no longer the center of attention. Louis also became an

initiator in the professionalism of dance when he opened the Paris Opera House, the

first set school for dance education (Anderson, 1992).

Ballet began to undergo a rapid change in the upcoming centuries. It began a

transformation from the more ballroomesque style to one more similar to the ballet

known today. Catherine The Great brought a new form of ballet to imperial Russia.

Catherine The Great did similarly to what Louis XIV did in the sense where they made

ballet something the nation should be proud of. She created ballet schools for the

dancers that became a melting pot for everyone, no matter their social or economic

status. Children were being enrolled into these schools at adolescent ages in hopes that

one day they would become “Principal Dancers.” This highly popularized ballet to the

extent where a male dancer was observed as highly as one enlisted in the military.

Stylistically, Catherine The Great brought innovative ideas to the world of dance, ideas

that are still used today. With imperial ballet, she brought this new aesthetic of lines,

and began using pointe shoes more often than before. The idea of a perfect line is that

when a dancer is on relevé, standing on his or her toes, there should be a straight line

from the tip of the head, all the way through the toes. This idea of a perfect line was the

beginning to many changes including pointing toes when dancing, and altering

costumes. Before, female ballet dancers wore long tutus reaching their ankles. Imperial

ballet shortened the tutu to reveal the legs, showing of the perfect lines that were soheavily sought out (Anderson, 1992).

Idolized

Today, we are bombarded with photos of dancers in extreme positions. Now more than

ever, dancers are being used for their tremendous capabilities and talents.

Advertisements like Under Armour display Prima Ballerina, Misty Copeland,

performing in their fitness clothing. The series of commercials show Misty on pointe as

the camera focuses on the dancer’s muscularly defined figure. She then begins dancing

across a stage showing off just how much strength, flexibility, and control goes into being a dancer.

Social media has also become a high-demand location for dancers. Hashtags like#dance

and #dancer offer over 25 million posts on Instagram alone. These posts allow dancers

to show off their perfect lines and flexibility. The posts with thousands of likes require

high, straight legs with spines that can bend in every which direction. Accomplished



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dancers themselves admire extremes of flexibility and strive for it. And, like Barbie’s

negative effects on adolescent girls, these perfect dance photos rub off on young dance

students, who struggle to emulate the seasoned professional. Teachers too can be

seduced by the drive for flexibility, without due respect for how it is achieved, or how too

much natural hypermobility requires understanding and very careful training. This

becomes a vicious circle where what is viewed as ‘perfect’ can gravely injure dancers

without the correct training or attention to natural restrictions.

There is a whole spectrum of inherited flexibility to consider. One is the tightly bound,

limited physique (short muscles and bony limitation of joints), which is unsuited for

dance and especially ballet. Another is the extreme flexibility of the dancer who is weak

and uncoordinated, but ‘full of potential.’ Those dancers with a natural (inherited)

global hypermobility are believed to have an abnormality of their connective tissue that

allows for joint laxity. This ‘natural talent’ is associated with advantages and

disadvantages. Many of these physiques are drawn to dance because of the ease with

which they achieve extreme positions, the encouragement they are given, and the

aesthetic appeal of the hyperextended (swayback) knee and hypermobile ankle. They

have connective tissue stretchiness in the joints of the fingers and elbows as well as

knees, spine, ankles and feet, indicating how uniquely this physique is held together.

“Connective tissue is the living material that binds the body together: ligament,

tendon, capsule, cartilage, labra, fat pads, disc, bone and even skin. Generally,

connective tissue is composed of cells and fibers suspended in a matrix. In

ligaments the fibroblast cells produce dense, parallel- arranged masses of

collagen and elastin fibers. These proteins, aligned along the lines of stress, giveligaments and tendons their powerful resistance to axially loaded tension forces,

but allow some stretch” (McCormack, 2010).

This sense of hypermobility allows dancers to extend their joints past the normal range

of motion. In the dance world, this is admired and viewed as ‘perfect.’ Hypermobility

allows a dancer’s joints to always be more than straight, to the point of hyperextension.

It is so widely admired for the ease of a perfect line. When standing, a dancer with

hypermobility syndrome will have hyperextended knees that resemble a similar shape to

an archery bow. The knees will swoop back past neutral, making the kneecap disappear

into the leg creating a seamless line.

Although this is idolized, it can cause many problems for a young dancer. In the first

years of dance, if not properly strengthened a hypermobile dancer will have difficulty

with control. If allowed to lock back into its full extension when weight bearing, the

muscles that control it relax, the control of turnout is lost, and the student could face

injury. Another challenge is landing. Hyperextension may give a seamless appeal, but



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when landing, if a dancer’s joint is past neutral, they could tear or rupture that joint,

which could end a dance career. The Royal Ballet School in London found that the

number of hypermobile dancers decreased with rising professionalism due to serious

sustained injuries.

“We found that 74 percent of girls and 82 percent of boys in the lower school (11–

16 yrs) were hypermobile. The incidence in the 16–18 year olds was 94 percent of

females and 83 percent of males. In the professional company the incidence was

95 percent of females and 82 percent of males. These figures suggest that a

physical type is most definitely selected. Interestingly, the incidence of Joint

Hypermobility Syndrome in the Lower School was 47 percent in girls and 45

percent in boys. In the 16–18 yrs it was 46 percent in females and 35 percent in

males. However, in the professionals it was 26 percent in females and 36 percent

in males. The decrease in numbers in the company suggests that hypermobile

dancers who have also been injured are less likely to progress into the profession”

(McCormack, 2010).

Form becomes at risk with hypermobility as well. Dance, particularly ballet, requires

errorless form to help avoid injuries. The dancer must be ‘stacked’ meaning each section

of your body being used in a movement must be perfectly on top of the other. This

creates balance, which correlates with the control of dance. Turnout is another

important factor to form. It creates a more mobile dancer that can glide across stage and

requires an increased range of flexibility and control. When hypermobile, dancers are

found to sink into their hips, losing a stacked body. They may also lose control of

turnout when their joints are locked in a hyperextended position, which naturallyreleases the muscles.

The foot in all dancers bears the stress of incorrect alignment above it. In the excessively

flexible foot and ankle, the many small joints of the midfoot are easily compromised.

Each joint is bound by ligament and capsule, and further supported by intrinsic muscles

of the foot. If the arches are stressed in the ‘rolling’ pronated foot, the medial arch

flattens and the foot may never recover. Pronation of the foot means that when

standing, the feet roll in toward each other. Non-dancers call this being ‘flat-footed.’

This can be a challenging fix for a dancer because the foot carries the weight of the

entire body. When landing from a leap on a pronated foot, all of the dancer’s weight,momentum, and gravity is not distributed through the natural foot arches, instead it all

rolls in toward the ankle causing problems with the dancer’s ankles, Achilles, and knees.



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The high demand art

Title IX is another component in the dance injury world. According to www.justice.gov,

Title IX is, “A comprehensive federal law that prohibits discrimination on the basis of

sex in any federally funded education program or activity.” This was a groundbreaking

policy that helped create equality for women’s athletics. Over the past few years

however, Title IX has had an abundance of criticism toward their criteria.

On the Title IX website, in a section named, “Before Title IX,” it states: “Things were

different. The primary physical activities for girls were cheerleading and square dancing.

Only 1 in 27 girls played high school sports.” By this statement, and others throughout

Title IX, the committee is claiming that dance is not a sport.

According to the federal rules, dance is not considered a sport because it needs coaches.

It needs set practices. It needs competitions during a defined season. It needs a

governing organization and competition as the primary goal. But, dance does not have a

season. It is a year-round event. It is an activity that requires its competitors to be in

shape, train, and condition all year long with minute, or no breaks. And, because of this,

institutions cannot claim them as sports. Title IX will not give the institutions credit for

dance.

These Title IX requirements seem to miss the essence of dance and all the work. Sweat.

Blood. Tears. Injuries. And hardships that go into the activity. Dance is, as Alissa says,

“…such a high demand art.” Even she, a dancer, of 17 years has been brainwashed to

believe that the activity she partakes in is not considered a sport and merely just art.Dance is an expressive form of art—yes—but it is as strenuous on the body as most if not

all other activities considered “sports” under the Title IX guidelines.

A University of Washington Ph.D., Ronald Smith, did a study on dancers and how they

sustain injuries as bad—if not worse—than other professional athletes. Smith discusses

in a UW publication how comparable dance injuries are to that of most professional

athletes. “We think ballet dancers are as vulnerable as athletes because ballet is a very

pressure-packed activity with a tremendous amount of competition,” said Smith, who

has worked for the Houston Astros organization as a psychological consultant. “Ballet is

physically grueling and the fact that other dancers are competing with them adds to thephysical stress. The level of precision required is comparable to that of an Olympic

gymnast.”

Smith’s new publication “Anxiety, Stress and Coping,” said that, “The injury rate for

ballet dancers over an eight-month period was 61 percent. This is comparable to rates

found in other studies for athletes in collision sports such as football and wrestling. The



14

average time lost because of a ballet injury was 10.5 days, with the actual time loss

ranging from one to 87 days.” An injury was defined as a medical problem that

restricted participation for at least one day beyond the date of the injury.

Dancers have an aspect to their injuries that becomes mental. They get into their own

heads. They psych themselves out. They become their own worst enemies. A dancer will

train for months at a time on a single piece. They will rehearse for hours. They perfect

every movement. They make sure their bodies are in the right places at the right time.

They make sure that the night of their performances goes flawlessly. After the extensive

training and preparation for a piece, a dancer becomes susceptible to injury. But, if an

injury is sustained, they don’t mention it until after the performance. “Dancers often

perform hurt,” Smith says. “They are afraid that after all the hard work, someone will

take their place.” So, dancers perform injured and worsen their condition. This leads to

a constant cycle of physical therapy.

After Alissa’s multiple injuries, she found herself in physical therapy almost every day

after she left dance. “I went to physical therapy to really get myself stronger, and started

taking it more seriously,” Alissa said. “Everyday after dance I would go to PT and do

these crazy workouts.” After hours of dance, Alissa subjected her body to more intense

workouts and stretching to help assure no more injuries from her hypermobility

syndrome.

In PT, Alissa focused on working the hardest she possibly could to assure she would

dance in college. Alissa’s workouts consisted of different aspects of working out. “I

would have to jog and bike a few miles before even starting my PT workouts,” Alissasaid. She was able to work on physically making herself stronger, but dancers don’t

always sustain external physical injuries.

Smith’s studies focused on not only the physical stress performers endure throughout

their training, but also the mental and emotional stress they go through. This is another

aspect of how dancers become their worst enemies. They fight for these top spots. No

one can be better than they are. Even their closest performance partners. They must be

the lead role. Their name must be first in the programs on show day. When a dancer has

this mindset, they push themselves physically—yes—but often times mentally too.

“Many dancers have eating disorders,” Smith says. “And they lead very, very stressful

lives.”



15

Mental

In a small kitchen in RWU’s Bayside apartments, Alexandra Townsend prepares dinner.

She is in workout clothing. A pastel, mint green, long sleeve shirt. A pair of light gray

leggings that stop halfway down her muscular calves. A matching pair of gray and green

New Balance sneakers adds an inch or two to the girls 5-foot-6 height. She paces the

floor searching through the cabinets in her miniscule kitchen. She grabs a box of whole

grain pasta and places it on the table. She reaches below the counter and grabs a small

cooking pot. She fills it halfway with water. She places it on the stove and turns the heat

to high.

While she waits for the water to boil, Townsend reaches above her refrigerator and grabs

a Pyrex-measuring cup. The highest amount it measures is one cup. She levels it on the

table. She pours her whole grain pasta into the measuring device until it reaches the

solid red line indicating a single cup. This is the only amount she will allow herself for

this meal. The water reaches a boil. The cup of brown, grainy pasta is added to the

scalding water.

Townsend now reaches into the refrigerator and grabs a container with a green dewy

substance inside. It's broccoli. Five pieces of broccoli are plucked out of the container

and put on a plate. The plate is placed in the microwave for a minute. This is the only

amount she will allow herself for this meal. The remaining pieces of the pungent

vegetable go back into the refrigerator.

It has been eight minutes. A wooden spoon stirs through the pasta and scoops one up.She tries it. She shuts off the stove and strains the cooked pasta in the sink. She adds it

to her bowl as steam accumulates like smoke above both foods. One cup of whole grain

pasta. Five pieces of broccoli. She now cuts up the green vegetable and adds it to the

pasta along with a teaspoon of oil. She mixes it all together. This is the only amount she

will allow herself for this meal. A glass of water waits for her at the end of the table while

she eats her dinner.

“I went for a run today, after going to the gym,” Townsend says with a spoonful of pasta

and broccoli. “So I get to have a little extra today.” This girl, a dancer at RWU, worries

about her shape constantly. She worries about the size of her waist. She worries aboutthe size of her arms. She worries about her muscle definition. She has pushed herself to

a point where she will not eat certain foods, or drink certain things because of the fear of

excess weight.

She now looks at, Nicole Fischetti, her roommate—another thin girl—and asks what she

is up to for the night. The roommate tells of plans of going out for dinner to get a burger.



16

You can see disgust in the dancer’s eyes. As if a burger instantly adds a lifetime of weight

and sorrow with the initial bite. Fischetti catches on and gets defensive. The dancer

subsides only to end the argument. She feels as though her friend is making a mistake.

This girl has reached an extreme mental state. One that is unhealthy for her, her mind,

and her body. She has reached a point where she will only eat the “suggested” daily food

consumption values. She doesn’t take into consideration dancing for six hours of the

day. She doesn’t take into consideration working out on top of dance. She doesn’t take

into consideration the stress that comes with daily life. She has reached a point where

she is only concerned about how she looks when she dances.

Looking back into the dimly lit dance studio on the northern side of the RWU campus,

ballet professor Michael Bolger remembers back to his days as an undergraduate

student at SUNY Purchase. “The Dean would send us little letters in the mail when we

would leave for break,” Bolger says. “And, if a dancer had gained some weight, the letter

would say, ‘hope to see less of you when you return.’”

A thinner body means better lines. More muscle means more extreme poses and

flexibility. All that matters is how she will look on stage. This girl has only become

another statistic in the dance injury world that Smith discovers. The statistics stating

that, “eighty-three percent of dancers met lifetime criteria for an eating disorder,” a

number that shows the demands of dance. A number that shows how as a community,

dancers struggle with mentally preparing themselves for the stress, pain, suffering, and

disappointment that comes as a tag team with dance. Many in this community are even

unaware that they meet the criteria of having an eating disorder because of itsprevalence in the dance world. This is what makes mental dance injuries so problematic.

This percent only shows how dance injuries include more than just the physical injuries

sustained by Alissa. She is lucky. She hasn’t let dance get into her head. She hasn’t let

dance mangle her thoughts. She hasn’t let dance control her life. Alissa, in the past, has

worried of others taking her roles in performances, but never to the extent of mental

insanity. “Sure, I got stressed out because of dance many times, especially after my

injuries,” Alissa says. “I was always able to take something positive away from every

dance class though and use it as a de-stressor.”

Time, energy, and effort are just a few requirements that go into every piece of dance

works. It is not an activity that you can just physically train for. It is not an activity

where if you get hurt out on the field, then can get subbed out to rest and heal on the

bench. It is not an activity that you can take time off of. Dance is, “…such a high demand

art.” You have to be able to get into an Olympic style mindset that will not let any form

of stress alter your performance. If you get hurt in the middle of a performance, you



17

have to continue the piece as if there is nothing wrong, or you ruin the routine. You have

to dance as often as you can in order to maintain skill and flexibility. You have to fight

for the top spot, assuring your name is listed first in the performance program. You have

to battle with the mental challenges that stalk a dancer like prey. These are the

requirements for dance. The high demanding art that is not a sport.

I have to keep moving

Lights slowly fade in, and a single girl is seen moving on a stage. This is the start of a

performance. Franz Schubert's “Ave Maria” is playing. The loud, soprano voice echoes

through the studio. Each word seems to accent the movement of the dancer. She is on

her knees and fans her arms around in a sequential pattern. This pattern accumulates

an extra movement each time she resets the movements to repeat. Slowly, she

accumulates movements with one leg. Then comes to a standing position. She continues

moving through the dimly lit space.

She wears her hair in a messy bun. She wears black flowing pants. She wears a black

blouse. Bare feet. Simple. As she continues moving, and time progresses, the music

changes. What was the strong vocals of an opera now becomes the sounds of the famous

Australian didgeridoo. The change in music brings more dancers to the stage space. Five

are now present in the space, and Alissa McGeehan is one of them. Her dark hair up,

like the original dancer. Her clothes similar. Her movement pattern is similar.

The dancers alternate between simultaneous movements and separate ones. At one

moment, Alissa and the group all move the same. Some then trail off and the movementis broken into groups, and sections. Alissa’s thin demeanor glides her across the floor

with ease and grace. She moves effortlessly. Her leg kicks high to the right. No

resistance. She turns around herself. One fluid movement. Alissa displays her talent for

the other dancers, and audience.

The performance is 31 minutes long. Alissa is in the majority of the piece. At times she

runs off stage and has a minute or two to catch her breath before reentering the

performance space. She has been preparing for this piece for months now. After a call

from her dance teacher, Lorraine Chapman, Alissa was offered this part in a

monumental piece Chapman called, “The Solemn Moment.”

On November 4, the day of the performance, Alissa arrived at her studio for 2 p.m. for

the performance at 7 p.m. She would be prepping for the dance for almost the entirety of

the day. Running through choreography one last time. Making sure every movement is

how Chapman envisioned it.



18

By this point in her life, Alissa had performed many times over an 18-year span, but she

was still nervous about the performance. “I have performed plenty of times before,”

Alissa said. “But, this was the first time I was performing with a professional company.”

Alissa warmed up her body. Refreshed her mind. Marked through the choreography.

Made sure her costume was unflawed. She performed her breathing ritual backstage to

shake the nerves. She was ready to perform.

“I went out on my cue,” Alissa said. “I was now performing with a professional

company.”

Alissa followed the choreography. Step for step. Kick for kick. She was on time with her

movements. Sharp when need be. Sustained too at times. Five dancers occupied the

stage in a circle-like shape. Constantly rotating across the floor, the dancers were

constantly in motion.

Alissa kicked up her leg in unison with the other performers. Each moved with ease.

From the kick, the dancers turned to the ground and Alissa was confused by a sensation

coming from her right foot. “I kicked up, turned to the ground, and felt extreme pain,”

Alissa said. “I thought that my toe fell off, which is a weird sensation to have, but that’s

what it felt like.”

Alissa didn’t lose a toe. Instead, she ruptured her joint capsule. Often a ruptured capsule

is a degenerating piece of tissue. These are the breakdown products of which cause

inflammation and scarring within the joint capsule. In Alissa’s case, her big toe

separated from her foot.

Her big toe was now a separate entity of her foot. It stuck out to the side. It added an

abnormal amount of space between her big toe and the remaining four. She was now on

the ground, in the middle of a performance with five other dancers, and still seven

minutes remaining in this section of the piece. Going through Alissa’s mind was a single

thought.

“I have to keep moving.”

“This is what dancers do,” Alissa said. “This is what I was trained to do, and I had to justpush through it.”

Alissa’s face bore no pain. Unknown to the audience, she was broken. The next series of

movements involved all five dancers to get into a circle while on the ground and push off

one another with their feet. The ruptured toe was not spared. She pushes off once. Rolls



19

to her right. Pushes off again. Rolls to her right. Pushes off a third time. She comes to a

standing position.

For another seven minutes, Alissa turns. Leaps. Jumps. She moves until her section is

completed. She runs offstage and notices her toe succeeding from the others. “I thought

to myself oh this will go back,” Alissa says. She spent her two-minute break backstage

attempting to reposition her toe. “I kept trying to push it back,” Alissa says with a giggle.

“But, it was definitely not getting fixed before I had to go back out for the finale.” For the

final five minutes of the 31-minute piece, Alissa danced through the pain, thinking to

herself, “I can do this.” In that moment she was still unsure as to what was wrong with

her.

Immediately following the performance Alissa calls her mother and with a joking tone

says, “Mom you aren’t going to believe what I just did.” Her mother assumed an injury,

which was what Alissa also thought considering her foot was numb. “I went home and I

cried,” Alissa said. “This just kept recurring to me and at the worst times.”

That following day, Alissa was supposed to audition for one of the universities she was

looking at, RWU. Not being able to perform, she arrived at her audition in a medical

boot far too familiar to her already. She explained her situation to the spectators who

were sympathetic and admired her dedication to the practice for even showing up for an

audition knowing there could be no performance.

In the following days, Alissa went to the doctors who told her that if wearing the medical

boot and taping her toes did not fix the problem, then surgery would be the next option. Alissa saw no progression with the boot alone and she was scheduled for surgery. This

left Alissa on crutches for a few weeks, followed by another few weeks of having to use a

medical boot. To Alissa, this was now a routine. A routine that she knew far too well. A

routine that worried her. A routine that got her thinking about her future. “I started to

realize that I could not go to a school that was just for dance,” Alissa said. “I couldn’t

make a career out of something I wasn’t able to do because of constant injuries.”

After receiving an acceptance letter from the RWU Dance Department, Alissa decided to

move forward. She liked the dance program. She liked the school. She liked how

sympathetic the spectators were to her when she was injured. So Alissa enrolled as afull-time dance student for the RWU class of 2017.

As time progressed, Alissa’s thoughts of injuries and career choices resurfaced. There

was a constant worry in the back of her mind that if she was ever injured, she could be

out of work as a dancer. She went through a constant state of self-interrogation, which

added more stress to her decision. “My thoughts to no longer look at dance as a career



20

were reaffirmed when I came to Roger,” Alissa said. After completing a semester as a

dance major, Alissa said goodbye to what she was so sure of for so long.

After dropping dance as a major, Alissa decided to change her focus of study to PR with

a minor in dance. “To me, this made the most sense,” Alissa said. “I may not be able to

dance for a company, but now I could represent one if I wanted.” Even if not directly in

the studio, dance to Alissa meant too much to just drop completely.

Today Alissa finds herself dancing in slightly less traditional ways. As she buckles down

into the final weeks of her first semester as a junior at RWU, Alissa feels the pressure of

her courses and other obligations. “I am always doing something for either class, or

PRSSA [Public Relations Society of America],” Alissa says. “I really do wish I had time to

be able to join the dance club and join a piece or two that I would like.”

Currently, Alissa is taking a dance history course, which although doesn’t require

movement, keeps her roots in dancing. As part of a required course for her studies,

Alissa gets to sit back and watch dance develop through time. She gets to learn about the

origins of dance. She gets to be introduced to the names of the greats who popularized

dance. She gets to watch her passion go through history and develop into what she

knows it as today. She gets to admire her craft even if she is only watching.

Leaving her dance history class, Alissa is reminded why she loves dance so much. “It's

just a beautiful and technical form of art,” Alissa says.

In and around her Bayside apartment, Alissa finds herself constantly doing dancerelated tasks. “I dance in my room a lot,” Alissa says with a laugh. “My roommates will

get back from class and I'll be doing homework while stretching with my leg on the bed

and they will just look at me and laugh.”

Her apartment also sees a lot of improvisation, or “improv” as Alissa calls it. “If I ever

get really stressed out, I can just turn on music and improv around the apartment,”

Alyssa says. This form of art in some cases is what can push Alissa through. It is what

can help her persevere and succeed at a stressful task. Dance is more to Alissa. More

than just movement.

Dance allowed Alissa to be expressive and be something that may not be who she always

is. On stage, Alissa has the spotlight, all eyes are on her and she can be as eccentric as

she wishes. She can embody another character, or an alter ego, someone that may be too

hectic for everyday life. On stage, anything goes.



21

Alissa recalls being extremely shy, and always afraid to be the star in situations, but

dance has helped her break out. “Improv really made me be more outspoken,” Alissa

says. “It just forces you to do whatever comes into your head no matter how ridiculous

you look.” Alissa finds dance as a character builder, something that can do more for

people than they may even believe. It’s something that affects others. It's something that

is both influenced and influential.

Dance is not something that is easily explained. Dance is not something that just anyone

can put a definition on. The power of dance is that it is discretionary. Dance to one can

differ exponentially to dance for another. Dance is the reason she is the woman she is

today. Eighteen years. Countless training hours. Four injuries. Challenging decisions.

These were the aspects of dance that shaped Alissa.

“Dance has been a huge component in my life,” Alissa says. “Without dance, I wouldn’t

be as disciplined as I am. I wouldn’t be as passionate, or motivated to want to succeed. I

wouldn’t strive to be the best that I can be. That’s what dance did for me.”



22

Works Cited

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Book, 1992. Print.

Goins, Pam. "Cheerleading and Dance Don't Count in Title IX." Cheerleading and

Dance Don't Count in Title IX . N.p., 15 July 2011. Web. 16 Nov. 2015.

Hamilton, William G. "Dr. William G. Hamilton ." Dr. William G. Hamilton . N.p., n.d.

Web. 16 Nov. 2015.

"Harkness Center for Dance Injuries." Knee and Thigh. NYU Med, n.d. Web. 16 Nov.

2015.

"Health Issues in American Football." Wikipedia. Wikimedia Foundation, 10 Oct. 2015.

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"History of Dance." Wikipedia. Wikimedia Foundation, 16 Oct. 2009. Web. 16 Nov.

2015.

Lansdale, Janet, and June Layson. Dance History: An Introduction. London:

Routledge, 1994. Print.

McCormack, Moira. "Teaching the Hypermobile Dancer." The IADMS Bulletin for

Teachers 2.1 (2010): 5-8. 2010. Web. 16 Nov. 2015.

Schwarz, Joel. "Ballet Dancer Injuries as Common, Severe as Athletic Injuries." UW

Today. N.p., 11 Oct. 2000. Web. 16 Nov. 2015.

The Solemn Moment . Chor. Lorraine Chapman. Massachusetts, Winchester. 25 Sept.

2015. Performance.

Wainwright, Steven P., Clare Williams, and Bryan S. Turner. "Globalization, Habitus,

and the Balletic Body." Sage Journals. N.p., 2007. Web. 16 Nov. 2015.

"10 Key Areas of Title IX." TitleIX.info. N.p., n.d. Web. 16 Nov. 2015.

i have to keep moving

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