Unveiling Shadows: A Dance with Body Image

Written by: Ariana Stănescu

Trigger Warning: This text discusses body image, mental health, and personal challenges related to dance

When I first stepped into a dance studio, I thought my biggest challenge would

be learning the choreography.

I was wrong.

The hardest part was learning to exist in a space where my body was treated as a problem to solve.

From a young age, I heard it from people I trusted most; family, teachers,

mentors: ‘You don’t look like a dancer.’ Sometimes the words were subtle,

other times blunt, but the message was always the same.

I carried that with me for years. I loved dance deeply, but every mirror in every

rehearsal room seemed to confirm that love wasn’t enough if I didn’t ‘look the

part.’

I never stopped moving, but I did learn to take up less space; physically and emotionally.

Somewhere deep down, I believed that the stage belonged to other bodies, not mine.

From Passion to Research

When I began my MA in Dance and Choreography, I thought my research

would be all about other people. My plan was to interview dancers, hear their

experiences with body image, and translate their stories into movement. But

the more I listened, the more I realised I was hearing my own story reflected

back at me. Their words brought up memories I had buried; moments in my

training when I avoided mirrors or when a comment about my body stayed

with me for months. It became impossible to pretend I was just an outside

observer. So I turned the focus inward and made myself part of the study. My

research became both a way to document what I already knew deep down and

a way to finally put it into movement.

Unveiling Shadows

The result of that shift was Unveiling Shadows, a piece that grew out of my

journals, rehearsal improvisations, and some very raw self-reflection. The title

came from the feeling that so much of my dance life had been spent in the

dark not literally, but in the sense of hiding parts of myself. The piece moved

between moments of small, tight gestures and big explosive movements,

almost like a conversation between the ‘me’ that wanted to disappear and the

‘me’ that wanted to be fully seen. One of the hardest sections to perform was

the stillness. Standing centre stage in the spotlight, breathing heavily, doing

nothing to make myself look beautiful or correct in the traditional sense. It was

a strange mix of terrifying and freeing, like ripping off a mask I had worn for

years.

The Cost of an Ideal

Through both the academic research and the creative process, I saw with

greater clarity how damaging thinner body ideals can be in dance. They do not

just dictate who gets hired; they shape how dancers see themselves, how they

move, and even whether they choose to keep dancing at all. These ideals are not neutral.

They are gatekeepers that uphold a vision of dance which prizes uniformity over individuality, appearance over expression. They leave little room for the messy, complex, and beautiful diversity of real human bodies.

This is not only about body size. It is about the intersection of ability, race,

gender presentation, and all the subtle ways the “perfect dancer” stereotype is

reinforced. My research also reinforced something I had experienced but never

fully articulated. The physical training environment often normalises self-

surveillance. Mirrors, for example, can be useful tools, but they can also

become sites of constant self-critique, turning every rehearsal into a quiet

battle between the dancer’s body and the dancer’s reflection.

What I Learned

Through this project, I discovered how deeply the culture of perfectionism and

constant critique affects dancer’s mental health. I learned that confronting

these issues honestly, both in research and performance, can open up

important conversations. The creative process helped me face my own fears of

failure and the need for approval. Gradually it taught me to be kinder to

myself. Most importantly, I realized that by sharing my experience, I could

contribute to a wider understanding of wellbeing for dancers. This research is

ongoing, but it has already transformed the way I view both dance and myself.

Looking Ahead

I do not pretend to have solved the issue of body image in dance. The problem

is deep-rooted, sustained by decades of tradition and a culture that often prizes aesthetics over artistry.

But I do know that change starts in the spaces we can control, such as the rehearsal room, the audition, the classroom, and the stage.

My hope is that this research, and the performance it inspired, can be part of that change. I want dancers to see that they do not need to fit into a pre-existing mould to be worthy of space, opportunity, or recognition. The mould itself is the problem. As I continue developing my practice, I carry with me the lessons of Unveiling Shadows, that our stories matter, our bodies matter, and that the most radical thing we can do as dancers is to take up

space exactly as we are.

Dance should never be about erasing yourself to fit in. It should be about expanding into who you already are.