Learning the Joy of Ballroom

I grew up in Hilo, a small town on the Big Island of Hawai’i with a population of less than 50,000. Hilo is the opposite of what most people think of when they think of Hawai’i – we endure year-long rainy weather, and our beaches are rocky with black sand instead of gold. Hilo is the type of place where everyone knows everyone, and it’s difficult to leave the house without running into classmates, cousins, or other acquaintances. The community is slow-moving but tight-knit, and our familiarity as a town means everyone keeps close tabs on each other.

Growing up, I never would have dreamed of becoming a dancer. I had been a competitive swimmer since I was young, and it was the only sport I stuck with until I left Hilo to attend university. The individual nature of the sport combined with the extremely watchful community of my hometown produced a very competitive environment. I gave my all to swimming not because it was necessarily fun to be so competitive, but because I knew if my race times weren’t on par with other people my age, I would be made fun of. I picked my “best events,” the 500-yard freestyle and 100-yard backstroke, not because I liked them, but because I knew not many people would do them and I would have a better chance of winning. I endured multiple practices a day and prioritized practice over all else not because I enjoyed them, but because I knew that every second wasted out of the pool was one more second my peers would spend improving without me. In the end, I wasn’t fast enough to be recruited for college swimming, and I stopped swimming when I moved to Honolulu.

Just by chance, I happened to see an advertisement for the Ballroom Dance Club at the University of Hawai’i at Mānoa in a Computer Science email newsletter. I attended their Christmas performance, and without knowing anything about ballroom dancing or knowing any of the people on the team, I decided to attend their next practice. It was the first time I had joined a club purely out of my own will, and not because of pressure from academics or my peers. By the time the semester ended, I had performed at another showcase and was starting preparation for a local competition, Hawai’i Star Ball.

Admittedly, my relationship with dancing deteriorated after Hawai’i Star Ball. I fell back into my old mentality of competition from when I was a swimmer. Practicing was starting to feel like an obligation to my partners and myself, no longer for the fun of learning. I became frustrated and hyper-focused on everything I did that was bad and ugly. I lost sight of why I was even dancing…as if I was as horrible as I perceived myself to be.

When we landed in Pittsburgh for the USA Dance Nationals, I felt very sick. I was suffering from altitude sickness, and I had eaten something questionable, so I was unsure if I would be able to survive competing from 7:15 a.m. on Saturday. Thankfully, I was able to get through our formation performance on Friday evening and I felt well enough on Saturday morning – but I knew I wasn’t going to be at my best. I saw it as a sign that it was time to change my mentality. I wanted to enjoy the experience of dancing with other college students for the first time, make good memories traveling to the East Coast, and have fun no matter what our rankings were.

Maybe it was a combination of jet lag, sleep deprivation, and nerves, but I kept having moments where I just thought to myself, “I’m really having fun right now…” Getting up at 3:30 in the morning to put on hair and makeup that would definitely make me look like a clown if I stepped outside the hotel. Making Finals for the first time in American Rhythm and realizing that the judges were really looking at us and calling us back because they wanted to see us dance again. Being out on the floor for the Finals of the American Foxtrot in the Collegiate Team Match with Gold and Silver-level dancers, knowing my partner and I would be making our Foxtrot debut in Newcomer the next day. Standing ready for the last dance of what felt like over ten consecutive heats of American Smooth. And, sweating as if I was back at our poorly ventilated practice studio in Honolulu.

Unlike swimming, where we are encouraged to keep our eyes on the bottom of the pool and focus on ourselves no matter what, the joy of ballroom dancing comes from having a partner to share your success with. In Ballroom, we learn to connect with another person, understanding their unique values, goals, experiences, and style, so that together, we can dance as one body and one force.

Any change in mindset will take time and continued effort. I expect that I will continue to struggle with the notion of competition, but in the end, I am so grateful to my partners Alex and Elijah, to my instructors Ravi and Synthia, to our team that has supported me well even during my toughest moments, and to this sport for giving me the opportunity to learn the meaning of having fun.