Thanks for being super cool about this :)
The ballet class moment I was dreading turned into a personal breakthrough.
How’s 2025 treating you, ballet friends?
I’m easing back into ballet-teacher-land after a few weeks of sleeping in, delicious treats, and stretching in the light of the Christmas tree.
A few of us ended 2024 with a Nutcracker themed barre, brain-teaser centre, and Party Scene repertoire over Zoom. Alongside the fun, for me, it was the first fully accessible ballet class I’ve experienced in several years.
I live with complex health conditions — among other things, this can result in low blood pressure, and what I like to call Faint-a-Palooza. Complications from a bike accident and worse complications from COVID made standing (and dancing) a bit tricky, so I use a wheelchair a lot of the time.
I know of great teachers who’ve taught with mobility aids; people who’ve danced with limb differences, while d/Deaf, blind, or disabled; and people who’ve experienced life changing illnesses and found a way back to ballet.
Maybe that inflated my optimism, but when I started talking about my disability, I was surprised at how often my experiences were minimized. As my health complicated more and more of my life, I needed to speak up and request accommodation in lots of situations. A common and frustrating response was the idea that I would either participate “normally,” or not at all. That I should get well soon, and return without the access needs.
Getting a wheelchair into dance studios proved to be a nightmare. There was resistance to continuing online options as the world “went back to normal,” abandoning COVID precautions and those who can’t take part without them.
Trying to navigate a world that routinely skips accessibility has taken a huge toll on me. It’s also made me incredibly grateful to every single person who’s helped me get my wheelchair around, masked-up or backed-up, and shown patience and understanding towards my energy limitations.
The Nutcracker class was a chance to celebrate with a few of those amazing people. It also forced me to do something I’d been avoiding… Maybe it’s internalized ableism, maybe a reaction to accommodation requests gone wrong, but my brain took to teaching in a wheelchair, like a cat to bath time.🙀
I didn’t wanna do it. If I absolutely had to be on wheels, I’d roll up close to my screen to keep the wheelchair away from view, and avoid demonstrating as much as possible.
Nutcracker class was different…
It was a bad health week, so I let everyone know I’d be limiting my standing time to avoid fainting. I taught from the couch, until it came time to teach the Mechanical Dolls’ variation, something I was excited to share.
I stood one time too many, and felt the telltale signs that Faint-a-Palooza was coming for me.
I’d been dreading this moment, but couldn’t avoid it any longer. I hopped in my chair, returned to the living room with wheels in full view, and continued teaching. Everyone was super cool about it. 😎
Here’s the thing — I don’t think it was a big deal to anyone but me. Wheelchairs are a bit awkward to dance and demonstrate in, but I did it! We had a blast, and the dancers were adorable as dolls.
Staying seated helped my symptoms, and I was probably a better teacher without the distraction of trying not to faint. I got to have way more fun participating in ballet than I’d had in ages.
All it took was giving my body the support it needed.
I’m so excited to keep dancing with you this year, and to get creative with supporting participation however it looks for you! Health needs, injuries, heavy workloads, and plain old ballet technique have a lot in common, in that using the right tools for the job can make a world of difference.
Wishing you happiness, health, and dance joy this year,
Natasha