Dirty Dance Deeds
Since the inception of the popular reality television show “Dance Moms”, the American people have become fixated with the idea that the world of competitive dance is a viciously virulent one. I am here to tell you that this inclination is absolutely accurate. I hope this post will illustrate that Machiavellian’smost devious dirty-handed deeds are committed within the costumed confines of the competitive dance world.
I danced for fifteen years, beginning when I was only four years old. When I was in seventh grade I joined the local competition team, the Sawyer Dance Troupe. Each year our troupe would attend two regional competitions – one in Chicago and one in Detroit. Bi-yearly we would fly to Florida to compete amongst nearly 1000 other dancers at the DanceAmerica National Finals. Throughout eight years of competition, I have witnessed the catty atmosphere that exists between opposing dancers, teams, choreographers, directors, and parents. Whether warming-up backstage, sitting in the dressing room, or riding in the hotel elevator one could always catch snippets of hushed yet pugnacious chatter. “So and so most definitely stole her fishnets. She’s such a rat.” Or, “If Andy wasn’t so stupid and hadn’t have turned the wrong way, then maybe Dancer’s Pointe wouldn’t have placed.” There is no end to the berating, especially when there’s the glory of a golden trophy at stake.
Though much of the detriment that occurs is purely verbal, that isn’t to say that there aren’t those who won’t take their competitive edge to the next level, and this includes competition fixing. An excellent example of this happens to be one of my own. Last March the troupe had travelled to Detroit to compete at regionals. After weeks of preparation through day-long rehearsals, we all felt more ready than ever. We were to be competing 29 group numbers and 23 solos in one afternoon. I performed my solo, “Uninvited”, around three in the afternoon. Luckily enough, there was only one other soloist in my category. This meant that we would both place, either first or second. I performed first. Following my category, there was an announcement from the director’s table asking that a representative from my studio visit the adjudicators. This was an uncommon, thus very curious situation. Regardless, the rest of the afternoon went as anticipated.
Around 10 PM all of the dancers gathered on the stage for the awards ceremony. Nervous whispers abounded as sweaty hands clutched onto good luck charms. Our categories continued to come up and awards were announced without question until, of course, my solo category. The master of ceremonies, a thin, leggy, blonde woman, continued to say, “Entry number 346 [that's me!] has been moved into the Senior Solo Lyrical category; therefore, the results for the Senior Solo Modern/Abstract category are as follows: “Pandora’s Box”, first place! The dancer is [...] from Positively Dance!”
What?! But seriously, what?
Myself and my teammates were absolutely livid upon hearing this. We later learned that the category of my solo had been changed due to a complaint from the director of my competitor’s company. She had claimed that my solo’s choreography did not fit the parameters of the category in which it was places. Translation: I am fabricating a complaint in order to eliminate my dancer’s competition in order to pave the way to her soloist’s first place trophy.
What is this if not a perfect example of Machiavelli’s theory of dirty hands? For that director the ends did justify the means. In order for her dancer to receive a coveted first, the director had to act outside of moral consideration and violate commonly accepted moral principles through being untruthful. She benefitted the greater good of her competitive team by allowing them to accumulate another first place trophy. She performed a ruthless act in order to achieve the effect that she wanted; this is purely the Machiavellian way.
Costume theft, smack-talking, backstage dealings, competition rigging… The stone-cold and ruthless Machiavellian world is going by a new name now: we call it the dance world.