Ballet, Raw & Real

When I first slipped on a pair of ballet shoes, I had no idea I was stepping into a centuries-old tradition — a world where every plié whispers stories of kings and queens, and every pirouette spins through time. Ballet, often seen as delicate and graceful, is a dance of contradiction: strength hidden behind softness, discipline disguised as elegance. Behind every soaring grand jeté lies a history of passion, transformation, and resilience. It’s a story that begins in the grand courts of Renaissance Italy and travels through the lavish theatres of France to the global stages we know today.

The birth of ballet was anything but the polished art form we see now. Picture the 15th century, where Italian court dances were elaborate displays of wealth and culture — more pageant than performance, more spectacle than storytelling. These early dances were intricate and formal, designed to impress with complex footwork and luxurious costumes. But amid the gold-threaded gowns and velvet-draped halls, the seeds of ballet were being sown. When Catherine de’ Medici married King Henry II of France, she brought with her not only the elegance of Italian dance but a vision that would shape the future of this art form.

It was in the sun-drenched courts of France that ballet began to find its identity. Under the radiant rule of Louis XIV — the Sun King himself — dance flourished like never before. Louis was not just a patron of the arts; he was a dancer, a performer whose love for movement shaped history. In 1661, he established the Académie Royale de Danse, the first professional ballet school, and with it, the foundations of classical ballet were laid. Imagine the opulent halls of Versailles, filled with swirling silk and powdered wigs, where every tendu and plié was a declaration of grace and power. It was here that the five basic positions of ballet were formalized — positions I still find myself perfecting in every class, chasing an ideal set centuries ago.

As ballet evolved, it left the gilded confines of the court and stepped onto the stage. By the 18th century, the art form embraced storytelling, shedding its decorative roots for something more expressive and alive. Jean-Georges Noverre, a visionary of his time, called for a revolution — ballet d’action, where dance became drama, movement became emotion. Through his work, ballet transformed into a language of the soul, a way to convey joy, sorrow, love, and longing without a single word. When I dance, I feel this legacy in every gesture, every arabesque — a connection to stories told long before my time.

The 19th century ushered in the Romantic era, a time when ballet became something almost otherworldly. Ethereal ballerinas in flowing white tutus glided across the stage, embodying spirits and dreams. Think of Giselle, with its haunting beauty, or La Sylphide, with its tale of love and loss. This was the age of pointe shoes, allowing dancers to defy gravity and float with an almost supernatural grace. I remember the first time I went en pointe — the exhilaration mixed with the ache of new muscles awakening, the realization that this pain was part of the magic.

Picture credits- LiveAbout (The Most Famous Classical Ballets)

But ballet didn’t stop evolving. The 20th century saw the rise of visionaries like George Balanchine, who stripped away the ornate sets and focused on the purity of movement. Neoclassical ballet was born — precise, powerful, and unadorned. Then came contemporary ballet, a breathtaking blend of tradition and innovation, where classical technique met modern dance’s fluidity and freedom. It’s a style I’ve come to love, a space where the old and the new dance together in harmony.

Beyond the beauty and grace lies a world of intense pressure and fierce competition — a reality depicted powerfully in films and shows like Black Swan and Tiny Pretty Things. Black Swan captures the psychological toll ballet can take, blurring the lines between dedication and obsession, reality and illusion. Natalie Portman’s character descends into madness in her quest for perfection, a cautionary tale of the sacrifices dancers sometimes make. Tiny Pretty Things pulls back the curtain on the cutthroat world of elite dance academies, where ambition and rivalry often overshadow the art itself. While these portrayals may be dramatized, they reflect real struggles dancers face: the relentless pursuit of excellence, the pressure to maintain an ideal body, and the ever-present fear of injury or failure. It’s a world where beauty and pain intertwine, where every performance demands not just technical skill but emotional vulnerability and unwavering resilience.

As I stand at the barre today, the wood cool beneath my fingers and the mirror reflecting both my form and my aspirations, I feel connected to every dancer who came before me. Every tendu, every grand jeté carries echoes of an art that has endured wars, revolutions, and changing tastes. Ballet isn’t just about grace — it’s about strength, storytelling, and an enduring legacy that continues to inspire dancers like me. In this dance, I find not only myself but the countless souls who have poured their hearts into this art, and through them, I soar.