The Six Reasons Why I Joined Ballet

Years ago, a wafer-thin catalog from the University of Washington Experimental College showed up in my mailbox. I found it crammed between the throngs of useless advertisement pamphlets and missing persons notices. I tossed out the ads - sorry, I don’t need space-age gutters and I most certainly do not need a half-price bikini wax . . .  and for the record, I don’t need a full-price one either. I studied the missing persons flyers and then recycled those too - sorry again, I unfortunately don’t recognize Joshua Hendersen's ten-year, age-enhanced photo. I wished I had. The catalog almost suffered the same fate as the others, but for some reason it clung to my hand. It apparently had the same adhesion properties as my unwanted bills.

The catalog of "fake" classes (otherwise known as "studies without credits") sat on my desk for a couple of weeks. It taunted me like a bully.

It said, “C'mon, you wimp . . . go on and take a class. Everybody’s doing it! Ya know, you can try yoga, welding or even underwater fucking basket weaving!”

To which I indignantly replied, “Fine, fine! Alright already! I’ll take a look . . . but may I remind you I’m just taking a gander!”

And the catalog said, “Whatever loser . . . oh, and while you’re at it look for a class that’ll make you stop using lame-sounding words like “gander.”

As I casually scanned the various curricula a few ideas leaped from the pages.

This is what legs look like
with biking and ballet.

Hmm . . . I've  been meaning to learn Japanese. I’d like to visit Japan one of these days, maybe to see the remnants of the Okinawa base on which my grandfather served during WWII, or perhaps it might be fun to ride the bullet train in Tokyo and I guess it can’t hurt to know the Japanese words for “condom,” “birth control pills” and “sexually transmitted diseases - as in, do you have any?”

Or . . . gosh, ya know, I’d like to improve my writing . . . maybe I should take a short fiction class. After all, writing is the one of the few callings that has been kicking and screaming my whole life. Perhaps it was time to give it a proper amount of effort. I suppose refining my language skills would be helpful in knowing more seductive ways to utter words such as “condom,” “birth control pills” and “sexually transmitted diseases - again . . . as in, do you have any?” This would really do wonders for masking the bullshit factor in dating.

And then, suddenly, there it was. A class that not only leaped off the page, but it was a class designed, in part, to teach leaping. Beginning Ballet for Adults.

A week after I started classes, I celebrated my 32^nd birthday and at my party my new friend, H, asked me what the hell was up with me taking ballet. I’m paraphrasing, but he said something like, “I don’t get it. You’re a dude with a mohawk and you’re wearing a Neurosis t-shirt. What gives?” We talked for a bit, but I never really got to finish explaining myself. H was kidnapped by some other friends and taken somewhere for one of those I’m-young-and-carefree-Tracy-Chapman-You-Got-a-Fast-Car midnight drives. I, on the other hand, was hosting my own party. So, I dashed away to attend to my guests. Now, to be clear, H wasn't the only one who has asked me to explain myself. So, why ballet?

Reason 1 - Stay Healthy:  As I said earlier, I had just turned 32. They say a person’s metabolism slows down in their thirties and I intended to suspend this harsh reality for as long as I could. My heredity suggests I will be honored by the eventual development of a bowling ball belly. Also, the demon known as heart disease has crept around in my family’s DNA for years, killing relatives. I already knew, because of the propensity of my genetics, the only weapons I had to fight this demon were eating better and exercising more. Last, I cycle everywhere and all the time, which gave rise to some unhappy hip injuries. Cross-training became very important to repair that damage and strengthen my hips. So, why not ballet?

My ballet slippers.

Reason 2 - Reinvention:  I’m generalizing, but what is one of the first things a woman does when she breaks up with someone? She gets a haircut. She does this to cater to the need to reinvent herself, to abandon her old self, the one who was with Joe or Max or Dave or Gayle or Jenny or fence post or whatever she's into. This desire to reinvent is clearly a move to re-establish a lost identity; it is a separation from who you once were with your ex. Also, they hope to magnify their attractiveness to other potential mates. And men, we do the SAME DAMN THING, albeit a little differently. Often, we men begin to workout, making yet another fruitless attempt to finally develop that six-pack. Ballet had become the perfect way to re-invent myself after a break-up. Shamefully, I didn't manage to acquire the six-pack, but that wasn't really the point.

Reason 3 – Congenital Interest:  This is not to be confused with genital interest. Although, I guess there’s nothing really wrong with that. What I’m really getting at is that I loved ballet and I still do. For whatever reason I believe I was hard-wired to enjoy this particular dance form. I admired it from afar for many years. . . even as a boy. The first time I saw a live ballet performance I was 12; I saw the Nutcracker on a field trip to Seattle. So, joining a ballet class wasn't really a far cry away from what I already appreciated.

Reason 4 – Grace Hiccups:  In life, the employment of grace is important. Okay, I’m gonna get a little serious now. A year previous to signing up for ballet, a woman betrayed me in ways that did nothing short of crushing my spirit. I’m reasonably tough-skinned, but even I have a limit to how many lies and cover-ups I can take from someone who I believe loves me. During that time I handled my behavior pretty well, save for a few grace hiccups that can be categorized as punching holes in walls and snooping through her stuff to find evidence of her amoral blunders (I found a lot). I later realized these hiccups didn't show much more grace than she did. In essence, I had lowered myself to her level. What does this have to do with ballet? Easy. There is no better way to fight clumsy behavior than with an art form designed specifically for grace.

Reason 5 - Eye Candy:  Listen, I’m not gonna lie and none of you were born yesterday; it sure is something else to get an eyeful of beautiful women in tights on a weekly basis. Oh the jumping up and down, the pretty smiles, the flexing of the seat muscles and the gracefully elongated necks. Blessed be mine eyes! If I had excluded this reason, then I’d be an awful big let down to evolutionists. Charles Darwin would surely turn over in his grave. Hell, he might even fucking pirouette!

Kiss your fear.

Reason 6 – Fuck You, Fear:  The most dynamic and the most important reason of all, standing even higher than beautiful round bums in tights, was the notion to confront fear. I cannot imagine myself living a life governed by cowardice and anxiety. I must admit, however, I occasionally slipped into these traps back then. Shit, I still do. Joining ballet choked the life out of my fears. Also, it kept the stories coming in, the stories I would one day tell my grandchildren. I want to go through life kissing my fears with an intimacy that beckons me to higher ground. Anything less would be irresponsible living. What's more, I had to get over the stigmas associated with being a man in ballet . . . that I was a wimp, that I was gay, that I wasn't a "real" man. Very quickly, I discovered that learning the positions and the actual dancing proved to be far more challenging than overcoming these stigmas. In fact, I recall having one day of anxiety about the gender and sexuality stereotypes, but after my first class they fell away without a fight, the disappeared in the warmth and encouragement I encountered. I was a dunderhead to have even considered the fears in the first place.

In the end, I learned a great deal about the dance form. Plus, my body and my mind got stronger. New and valuable ideas grew from my guts. And, truthfully, I had also managed to defy the assumption I had joined a ballet class just to get laid. Some of the more cheeky people I knew back then were disappointed by this fact. Others were grateful for it. With that said, I might have been pretty fucking stooopid if I hadn't acted on such an opportunity had it arisen respectfully. After all, Gloria Steinem is counting on me just as much as Charles Darwin, right?