Editor’s Note: The following essay is one of five winning submissions selected for the 2025 Showstopper Day Essay Contest. From the title, Bryana Maxima’s essay “Crystal Dreams, Bruised Feet” brings to life the mix of pride and struggle that comes with being a dancer. Her response to the prompt “What is one aspect of being a dancer that most people don’t understand?” invites readers to consider the hours that go into building a powerful relationship, public and personal, with dance.
There is a world of suffering that no one sees before the lights dim and the music starts. When I say that I am a dancer, people smile and make comments like, “That’s so cute!” or, of course, “Do a split for us!” I simply laugh, but it gets me somewhat irritated because what most people don’t understand is that dance is hard. Like, really hard. And it’s not just hard on your body, but on your mind, your time, and your heart.
Hard work is only a fraction of dance. We don’t just enter the studio and become ballerinas or hip-hop pros. We stretch until our muscles scream. We drill the same routine over and over until our legs turn to jelly. We persevere even when we don’t get it the tenth time. I’ve cried in the studio a thousand times, not because I was upset, but simply because I care so much. I care about bettering myself. I care about doing something that means something. I care about being honest with the time and effort that goes into this.
I try to leave everything behind as soon as I enter the studio. I don’t just dance for myself. I dance for my company, for my teachers, and for future dancers who look up to us. Time really does matter. All those practice runs, all those repetitions, all those things that need to be corrected. It’s not exactly about memorizing steps. It’s about learning patience, discipline, and mental strength. It’s about showing up even when I’m tired, cranky, or feel like I’m not good enough.
And the emotional side of dance? People don’t talk about that enough. It’s not just about how many turns you can do or whose jumps are the highest. It’s about making people feel something, using nothing but your body and your presence. That takes vulnerability. That takes courage. It’s not easy to put yourself out there and risk being judged not just for how well you perform, but for what you feel while performing.
And behind all of that is sacrifice. While other kids are out with friends or relaxing after school, I’m usually at the studio rehearsing, helping younger dancers, or working on my technique. I miss out on things. But I don’t regret it. Because I know that dance is what I love. And when you love something that deeply, you’re willing to give things up for it.
Being a dancer isn’t all glitter and costumes. It’s sweat, bruises, sore muscles, and long nights. But it’s also growth. It’s the joy of finally nailing a move you’ve struggled with for weeks. It’s the bond you share with your team when you pull off a routine together. It’s learning how to take criticism and turn it into motivation. It’s discovering who you are through movement and music.
So no, it’s not all sparkles and glitter. It’s love and heart and work. It’s waking up when your body aches, being present for other people when they need you, and creating your own path even if no one witnesses it. So while other people might see only the glitter, I know the Crystal clear reality, dance is my life.
