Riot and Frolic

You can commit to the art of ballroom dancing without being a professional.

This is another in the series of “So You Want to be a Pro” but ironically about why you shouldn’t be…

For reference:

So You Want to be a Pro Part One: The Myths

So You Want to be a Pro Part Two: The Pros

So You Want to be a Pro Part Three: The Cons

So You Want to be a Pro Part Four: Expectations

First off, this one might necessitate some self-discovery, but: you’re not actually that invested. You don’t like practicing more than once or twice a week. You don’t want to spend money on… anything. You might not even like learning. I’ve known plenty of lovely dancers who just want to Dance and have people tell them they look good. But being a professional means double-digit hours of practice a week, lots of money on coaching and costumes and travel and coaching and comps, and constant room for improvement in your movement.

There’s a lot of delightful communities where opportunities to dance abound and yet the range of skill lacks depth. It can be very satisfying to be a big fish in a small pond, but if you go pro, that pond becomes an ocean. And like sharks sleeping, it’s best to make that decision with at least one eye open.

You use ballroom dancing as an escape. If classes, lessons, and social dancing get your mind off your job, family, relationship, health problems, or your on-going existential crisis, don’t make it your actual job. Because even awesome jobs have responsibilities and stressors.

You like winning. Um… you won’t.

You only trust one person’s information.

Your long-time instructor might be your role-model, inspiration, motivator, and emergency contact, but even the best teachers can’t have the most accessible information for you at every step of your dance journey.

Meeting and working with a variety of coaches is not only a delightful part of the process, but integral to building yourself as a well-rounded and educated dancer. Even if you’re insane enough to focus on only one style, there still tends to be coaches who are technicians, fixers, choreographers, or performance enhancers that you need to trust are there to give you great information.

You think the professional field is more competitive.

Not that it’s not, but have you seen the Pro-Am Open A field? Not just for the under-30 crowd, the B age category has been called the “Killer Bs” for decades because those people have expendable money, time, and able bodies and are DRIVEN individuals. Heck, the Cs are just Bs who graduated, so please don’t dismiss the pro-am circuit. You’d likely get your ass kicked by a 50-year-old dentist’s wife dancing with a 4-time World Champion.

For the amateur couples, depending on what circuit you’re competing in, you are also likely to get your ass handed to you by a couple of 18 year-old siblings from Utah, who have a hotter Rumba than you and your significant other can muster. The professional scene has quite a bench, but the pro-am and amateur scene has an excellent varsity squad.

You are injury and sickness prone. It is a rough road to travel if you have a historically feeble immune system or some sketchy joints. Having had eight pregnancies and at least a couple weeks off for each, I know it is difficult for students to commit when their teacher is not able to take lessons regularly.

You think it’s hard to deal with people.

And not that it’s fun, hilarious, or entertaining. I mean, we’re teaching dancing. Not doing rocket surgery. 😉

You don’t want to work your ass off to climb the very implicit hierarchy. Hustle is not only a great dance, it’s a way of life in the ballroom.

You think that being a pro won’t involve any teaching. Even if you decide to decide to declare yourself a professional just to join the Open Pro events AND, against all odds, win some comps and make money competing (fact: generally, no one makes money competing), someone somewhere is going to want you to a) teach a seminar b) dance pro-am with them c) teach them your magical ways. EVEN IF that never happens, your partner and you will still have to figure out some things and probably have a conversation (or two!) about who, what, when, where, how, and why you dance. Pros gotta find some words for what they do because they can’t just coast by on their super amazing looks and dance moves.

You only want “good” students.

ALL STUDENTS, PUT YOUR EARMUFFS ON.

All students suck.

MEANING THEY ARE ALL AT A LOWER LEVEL THAN YOU. None of them will make you look as good or feel as good as people who are better than you will (and sometimes your actual partner XOXOXOXOXO). You will watch them dance and cringe and then have to tell them “they pulled it out their ass” after the second round (hi, JT); you will dance with them all day and then book a massage IMMEDIATELY following your heats to have your shoulder worked on. NOT TO MENTION, your lack of experience teaching at the beginning of your career means you are actually not a great teacher and “good students” won’t go to you. (And honestly, a good student is someone who shows up regularly and does their best.)

To summarize, you might be a fish or a shark, ridiculously good looking, wearing earmuffs, or in need of a massage, but being a super bomb ballroom dancer doesn’t mean you have to be a pro.