I remember seeing the Nutcracker for the first time. Though I don't remember much else from when I was five, the beautiful costumes, graceful ballerinas, and intricate set changes will be forever ingrained in my mind. I clearly remember seeing the Sugar Plum Fairy walk out onto the stage. She wore a beautiful, delicately embellished rose-colored tutu, a sparkling crown, and fitted pink satin pointe shoes. In the soft stage lights, she seemed to be constantly shimmering and, even standing still, her poise, grace, and elegance were breathtaking. As she began to dance, I fell in love with ballet. Her upper body remained soft, gentle, and relaxed while her legs did the work, carrying her to various corners of the stage and showing off quick, intricate footwork.
So, every Christmas, while others sang carols like Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, I hummed Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker grand pas de deux. The Nutcracker was, to me, the epitome of a ballerina's career. It's a ballet that, unlike most others, reaches all people, whether they are interested in ballet or not. Everybody, at one point or another, has heard the story of Clara and her Nutcracker Prince. And every young ballerina has dreamed of becoming the Sugar Plum Fairy. I was no exception.
However, as I began to pursue ballet more seriously, my natural, physical bodily shortcomings became shockingly apparent. My knees were perpetually bent looking, my back more slanted than the leaning Tower of Pisa, and my arches, non-existent. Not at all the ideal ballet body, much less the ideal ballet tutu body.
When I began to enter serious international competitions, my coaches would hide my knees with longer costumes or artful draping of fabric. I never wore tutus. I was always in the Don Quixote dress or a long La Bayadere tunic or something that would conceal my atrocious legs. My coaches never considered me for softer variations like Sleeping Beauty or Paquita. I always did variations that were fast, upbeat, and sharp with a lot of jumps and bravado.
I had been typecast as the Don Quixote kind of dancer, and while I wasn't complaining, I was a little disappointed. I knew that I was winning medals by performing these types of variations, but I wanted to perform pieces outside of my usual comfort zone. Variations devoid of my usual jumps and turns. But, my coach was dead set on keeping my variations the way they were. She thought that she had finally discovered the secret winning formula. So, I stuck to my role as the jumper and turner. In the back of my mind, though, I still dreamed of becoming the Sugar Plum Fairy.
Every winter, when Nutcracker rolled around, I would sit in front of my computer and pour over Sugar Plum variation after Sugar Plum variation on YouTube, going over steps and making mental notes. At the studio, I watched every single Sugar Plum rehearsal, noting the corrections being given, and then, afterwards, practiced the variation by myself.
I loved the challenge that the Sugar Plum variation presented. It was slow and simple; so unlike the other variations that I had performed. There were no complicated pirouette combinations or huge grand jetés, but the variation challenged me in entirely new ways, forcing me to be clean, precise, and pointed in every single movement. There was no skirt to hide my knees, no bravado to distract the audience, to mask my mistakes. I loved it.
After almost a full year of rehearsing, both with my coach and by myself, I was finally cast as the Sugar Plum. I had finally beaten my stubborn knees and arch-less feet. Out of all the awards and honors I have won, finally being cast in my dream role outshines them all.
Please let me know what you think! Any suggestions are helpful!
So, every Christmas, while others sang carols like Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, I hummed Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker grand pas de deux. The Nutcracker was, to me, the epitome of a ballerina's career. It's a ballet that, unlike most others, reaches all people, whether they are interested in ballet or not. Everybody, at one point or another, has heard the story of Clara and her Nutcracker Prince. And every young ballerina has dreamed of becoming the Sugar Plum Fairy. I was no exception.
However, as I began to pursue ballet more seriously, my natural, physical bodily shortcomings became shockingly apparent. My knees were perpetually bent looking, my back more slanted than the leaning Tower of Pisa, and my arches, non-existent. Not at all the ideal ballet body, much less the ideal ballet tutu body.
When I began to enter serious international competitions, my coaches would hide my knees with longer costumes or artful draping of fabric. I never wore tutus. I was always in the Don Quixote dress or a long La Bayadere tunic or something that would conceal my atrocious legs. My coaches never considered me for softer variations like Sleeping Beauty or Paquita. I always did variations that were fast, upbeat, and sharp with a lot of jumps and bravado.
I had been typecast as the Don Quixote kind of dancer, and while I wasn't complaining, I was a little disappointed. I knew that I was winning medals by performing these types of variations, but I wanted to perform pieces outside of my usual comfort zone. Variations devoid of my usual jumps and turns. But, my coach was dead set on keeping my variations the way they were. She thought that she had finally discovered the secret winning formula. So, I stuck to my role as the jumper and turner. In the back of my mind, though, I still dreamed of becoming the Sugar Plum Fairy.
Every winter, when Nutcracker rolled around, I would sit in front of my computer and pour over Sugar Plum variation after Sugar Plum variation on YouTube, going over steps and making mental notes. At the studio, I watched every single Sugar Plum rehearsal, noting the corrections being given, and then, afterwards, practiced the variation by myself.
I loved the challenge that the Sugar Plum variation presented. It was slow and simple; so unlike the other variations that I had performed. There were no complicated pirouette combinations or huge grand jetés, but the variation challenged me in entirely new ways, forcing me to be clean, precise, and pointed in every single movement. There was no skirt to hide my knees, no bravado to distract the audience, to mask my mistakes. I loved it.
After almost a full year of rehearsing, both with my coach and by myself, I was finally cast as the Sugar Plum. I had finally beaten my stubborn knees and arch-less feet. Out of all the awards and honors I have won, finally being cast in my dream role outshines them all.
Please let me know what you think! Any suggestions are helpful!