I’ve been a dancer for 17 years, but my relationship with dancing has been anything but consistent. Throughout my dance career, I’ve doubted my skills, questioned relationships and gone back and forth on how I feel about my physique. The only constant I experienced was a lack of confidence all around.
Growing up dancing, my favorite part was always the performances. I thought it was because of the high I got from the audience’s praise or the adrenaline rush. While both are true, there is one more reason: I have no idea what I look like on stage.
When you think of a dance studio, the first element that likely comes to mind is a giant mirror that covers an entire wall. In group dances, the mirror is a dancer’s biggest tool as it allows them to ensure that their movements match those around them. Not only does the mirror help dancers achieve synchroneity, but it also helps dancers pick up on details in choreography. Without the mirror, the instructor would constantly have to turn around to demonstrate arm or other upper-body movements; they can’t teach an entire dance while facing the dancers because of the confusing direction changes. While I can’t discount the mirror’s help with these minor annoyances, I can’t ignore the psychological damage it causes in much of the dance community.
Those like myself who have committed themselves to dance their entire lives have also committed themselves to growing up in front of a mirror. They start to notice differences between themselves and the dancer next to them when they hit puberty. At this point, the mirror no longer becomes a tool but instead makes a dancer think, “Why is this person’s body developing one way and mine another?” Once this seed is planted, it only grows and worsens over time.
Despite this, dancers can find it difficult to part with something they’ve participated in their whole lives. In my case, I joined the University of Connecticut Dance Company and experienced a whole new relationship with dance. I can attribute this change to the fact that it’s an entirely student-run organization or that I don’t have as rigorous of a training schedule as I grew up with. But the primary reason I think my relationship with dance has improved is that I haven’t had a mirror in front of me while dancing in almost two years.
Dancers are told to focus more on feeling the best rather than looking the best, but with a mirror, it’s easy to succumb to the latter. Dancers are told to aim for clean movements, which is really just another word for “perfect.” This unattainable standard puts unnecessary pressure on dancers from a very young age, barring them from actually enjoying the movements. People go into dance because they hear of how fun it is, but that quickly fades when they’re told they need to look perfect to be acceptable.
In addition to the mental benefits of dancing without a mirror, there are some benefits to learning and retention. Some dancers who typically have more trouble picking up steps find they learn choreography more quickly when they don’t use a mirror. This is because, without a mirror, dancers are forced to pay more attention to their instructor and their own bodies. It also encourages the instructor to connect more with their dancers. Because there is no mirror, the teacher needs to constantly check for questions and ask the dancers what they need. This discourse allows the teacher and students to learn from each other and find the most efficient process.
Ironically, I have never felt more comfortable with my reflection or my dance skills than I have since stepping away from the dance studio mirror. Dancing without a mirror allows personal connection to build between fellow dancers because there is not a constant reminder to compare starting back at them. If the dance community retires the mirror, it is likely to see greater numbers of returning members because they won’t be overwhelmed by the mental and emotional toll it takes.