A publication to engage the dance community. Learn. Discuss. Contribute. Enjoy.

Becoming Ballroom

By McKenzie van der Hagen

6:15 AM Sunday morning. I rolled out of bed and questioned my life decisions. Why am I up so early? Why am I here? I looked in the mirror and asked the most pressing question of all: “How am I going to make this tired face and messy hair worthy of a national amateur competition?” Being a ballroom dancer means slicked back hair and intricate eye makeup. Clean, precise, pretty. However, my makeup skills are less than stellar and usually produce finger-painted raccoon eyes. Similarly, my hair typically results in a frizzy failed attempt at an updo. The day started with no sign of any improvement over this established standard. I recalled a YouTube hair tutorial that I had watched the night before and started backcombing my hair into a tangled tumbleweed. This seemed quite counterintuitive, but the video assured the end result would be polished and princess worthy. 45 minutes later, the top and sides were looking more ballroom than anything I had ever done before. I watched as the other girls in my room wrapped their ponytails in hair nets and pinned them up into intricate swirls… the classic ballroom style. My hair had always been too short to do the same, but after growing it out all summer there was nothing left to hold me back. I pulled my remaining loose ends into two low ponytails, grabbed a couple hair nets out of my makeup bag, and started wrapping. An hour and a half later, I walked confidently down to the practice floor. For the first time in my dance career, my hair was successfully done up in official ballroom swirls. I looked ballroom.

9:05 AM Sunday morning. My confidence was quickly put in check when I saw all the other couples warming up for what would be a very competitive bronze standard heat. My morning accomplishment had put me slightly behind schedule. The heat was scheduled to start at 9:55, and my partner and I had plenty to do in the next 50 minutes. Our quickstep timing needed more control and differentiation. Our spin turns needed more drive and sharper angles. Our waltz was still lacking the shaping that I knew we were capable of. All of that went out the window, though, because less than 10 minutes later we heard the call from the main ballroom. “Bronze standard lining up!” There was no more time to practice. All we could do now was rely on our previous training, put on a smile, and just dance. The first round was a whirlwind, but soon enough callbacks were posted and the butterflies in my stomach were fluttering with excitement rather than nerves. We had made it. In the stressful, suspenseful, and exhilarating moments like these, I experienced ballroom.

12:20 PM Sunday afternoon. After finishing up the Bronze and Silver Standard rounds, including our first competitive experience with the infamous train wreck that is Standard Foxtrot, we had a bit of a break before rhythm started in the afternoon. A dress on display just outside of the ballroom had been catching my eye all weekend. This was my chance to finally try it on. The neckline hung delicately over my shoulders, and the jeweled bodice hugged my torso. A full tulle skirt floated out from my hips and down to the ground. The rhinestones matched my tiara, and my friends all agreed that blue was my color. The USA Dance rules on costuming at lower levels had recently been lifted, and many girls were getting ball gowns. Feeling left behind with my leotard and skirt, I wanted so badly to do the same. For three months I had been searching online for dresses, but this was the closest I had been to calling one my own. For one thing, my partner actually approved of this one. Unfortunately, the $720 price tag still prevented me from fulfilling my desire, but I held on to the dream as long as I could. I twirled, danced, admired, and posed for the next 20 minutes. I felt ballroom.

5:25 PM Sunday evening. As the weekend came to a close, my partner and I paused to document our accomplishments. With ribbons from Bronze and Silver Rhythm as well as Bronze Smooth in hand we posed for the camera. We are notoriously bad at taking staged pictures but, much like the rest of the weekend, this one turned out surprisingly well. We turned to leave toward the dressing rooms and an older gentleman came up behind us. “Good job this weekend. I really enjoyed watching you two dance,” he commented. We smiled and thanked him for the generous compliment. He was right. It had been a good weekend. Despite incredibly strong competition, we qualified for Nationals in every bronze and silver event that we participated in. In contrast with all of my concerns and insecurities, this accomplishment brought encouragement and validation to our dancing. We still have a long way to go, but after this weekend I move forward with a renewed energy and sense of identity. I am ballroom.

info@sheerdance.com