‘Like Swimming in the Air’: My Exciting Role in ‘Giselle’ with Royal Ballet Dancers in Wheelchairs | Ballet

FFrom ballroom to hip-hop, I tried many different dance classes growing up, but none of them stuck for long. My body couldn’t find a rhythm to any music, and I quickly became exhausted from any physical exertion, concluding that I wasn’t built for exercise.

My theory was confirmed when I was 13 years old – I was diagnosed with Friedreich’s ataxia (FA), a rare, progressive neuromuscular disease that causes nerve damage, muscle weakness, and loss of mobility. Now, I’m 29, I use a wheelchair and much of my coordination has been eroded. I still love to dance but it’s rare that I get the opportunity.

After reading an opinion piece in The Guardian three years ago by Kate Stanforth, a professional dancer who uses a wheelchair, I followed her social media career with pleasure and admiration. Having begun ballet at the age of two and entering preparatory training at eight, Stanforth continued dancing for a short time after becoming ill as a teenager. As her health needs became more complex, she eventually had to stop training. She was diagnosed with ME, or myalgic encephalomyelitis, a chronic neurological condition that affects the body’s ability to produce and use energy, and was later diagnosed with Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, a hereditary connective tissue disorder that affects the body’s collagen.

With her love of ballet and life experience with disability and chronic illness, Stanforth created the Kate Stanforth Arts Academy, an award-winning inclusive arts organization dedicated to accessible dance education. “Ballet wasn’t just a hobby for me,” Stanforth said. “It’s always been a passion. Even when I got sick at 14, that passion never went away.”

When I read that they were hosting a ballet class sponsored by Allied Mobility in collaboration with the Royal Ballet School, I jumped at the chance to attend – even if it meant traveling from Dublin to London. Coming into the Royal Ballet School, I was incredibly nervous. I felt like an impostor as I passed a group of young girls in the hallways. I wondered if they doubted my presence.

Any tension I felt suddenly disappeared when I entered the dance studio and saw dozens of dancers in wheelchairs spread out in a circle, doing warm-up exercises. The class began with some barre exercises, guided by Stanforth and Rachel Hunt, International Artistic Director at the Royal Ballet School. My movements certainly weren’t perfect, and I was stiffer than the other dancers, but I felt like that didn’t exactly matter. My abilities have been accepted, and that means everything to me.

Having turned my back on dancing nearly two decades ago, it was a relief to be able to do something I loved so much without all the restrictive rules. Stanforth and Hunt make sure to remind us over and over again to listen to our bodies, not push our limits, and most importantly, have fun.

We moved on to work on a dance piece from the ballet Giselle, a production I admit I had not seen on stage (yet). Giselle is a romantic classical ballet from the 19th century, and one of the quintessential performances, like Swan Lake and The Nutcracker, that you might think of when you think of ballet productions.

I watched the dancers with what I can only describe as awe. They practiced crossing the room one at a time with their arms gracefully outstretched, between synchronized pushes of their wheelchairs. As they slid past, they seemed as if they were floating in the air. It was really beautiful. It seemed to me that stage ballet was doing itself a disservice by not opening up and allowing amazing ballerinas who use wheelchairs to participate in their performances.

When the class was over, I definitely felt tired, but it was satisfied fatigue, in stark contrast to the frustrated exhaustion I often feel after trying to do an activity that my body can’t handle. Stanforth told us she was overwhelmed by the popularity of the class, with morning and afternoon classes selling out within minutes, and hundreds remaining on the waiting list. I wasn’t the only one traveling for the class – there were dancers from all over the UK, and one even flew in from the Netherlands.

“This community is not small or rare — it simply has not always been visible,” Stanforth said, speaking about the academy’s global network of 500 disabled dancers. It is clear that interest in adaptive dance classes and workshops exists. “As this visibility grows, so does the possibility of a more open and inclusive future for ballet, where no dancer has to wonder if they belong.”

It now seems quite clear that there is a place for people with disabilities in dance. The industry needs more people like Stanforth to work on making the world of dance accessible. When the class ended, I had a new sense of motivation to turn my adaptive ballet experience into a hobby. If there was a class like this close to home, I would be a regular attendee.

For more information about comprehensive ballet lessons at the Royal Ballet School with Kate Stanforth Arts Academy, click here