‘So, you’re gay?’: The experiences of being a male in the dance world

The ballroom lights shining down, surrounded by other competitors in sparkly dresses and classy tail suits, with proud parents watching on from the sidelines – this has been my life for longer than I can remember.

I began dancing at the age of seven – a love story that began perhaps by chance. I went along to a local dance class after my parents said that I always moved along and danced around any time that I heard music – whether it was at home, in the car, or even at the supermarket. I instantly fell in love with the world of Latin and Ballroom, and thirteen years later, I’m still dancing, even now at university, where I’m the current Team Captain for Warwick Latin and Ballroom.

Although I’ve been extremely lucky to have made so many memories across over a decade on the dancefloor, including becoming World Cup formation champion and fulfilling a lifelong dream to dance in the Blackpool Tower Ballroom, I’ve also been faced with the less glamorous side of dance, the side that isn’t what others may see when they see an episode of Strictly Come Dancing and watch the professionals (and their celebrity partners) in awe.

It was in 2019, and I remember seeing on social media that Lara Spencer, a breakfast TV host in the US, had mocked a report that revealed Prince George’s love for ballet, quipping that “Prince William says George absolutely loves ballet. I have news for you, Prince William: we’ll see how long that lasts.” Whilst many people were outraged by Spencer’s ignorance and sneering, it came as no shock or surprise to me. The grim reality for males in the dance world is that they will always face criticism, bullying, and negative comments, simply for doing something they love. And though, often, the focus is on male ballet dancers, the problem permeates through the wider dance world too – including Latin and Ballroom.

It was in 2019, and I remember seeing on social media that Lara Spencer, a breakfast TV host in the US, had mocked a report that revealed Prince George’s love for ballet

Growing up around dance and spending countless hours a week training, I’ve often joked about how I’m so used to ‘being around girls’ – usually I’ve been the only male in my formation dance teams. There’s no doubt that dance is a female-dominated sport, but this is perhaps not a symptom of girls simply preferring dance. Instead, it seems to uncover an underlying idea that boys are made to feel that they can’t dance, whether that be by their peers, family, or society as a whole. I’ve seen too many boys driven out, even forced out, of the sport before they reach secondary school after years of bullying and ridicule from classmates.

Whilst I’ve been extremely lucky to have had such a supportive family who have followed my dance pursuits across the country, others are often not so lucky. Only a third of boys say that they have the support of their fathers over their choice of sport, with fathers often preferring to see their sons take part in a more ‘stereotypically masculine’ sport, whether that be football or rugby. Indeed, the age-old comment that ‘dance isn’t a sport’ somewhat underpins the whole idea that men shouldn’t dance, as they should instead be doing a ‘real sport’.

Despite my family’s unwavering support, I’ve still not been immune from the culture of name-calling or teasing that surrounds dance, and lots of my favourite memories of dance are tainted or shrouded by more negative moments. One of these occasions I remember vividly is when I was in the final years of primary school and I’d started to take dance a lot more seriously, and people in my class started to hear more about my passion for dance. Whilst most people saw my passion for dance as no different to a passion for any other sport, some boys in my class – namely those who were active members of the school rugby team – took problem with it and would constantly tease me. Not only did these boys show their ignorance and clearly not listen to the style of dance I did, saying that I must be a ballerina if I’m a dancer, I was also constantly told that I must be ‘gay’, as ‘all male dancers are gay’.

I am forever grateful for my one primary school teacher, Miss Wright, who stood up for my passion for dance and showed the boys in my class that dance is for everyone by making them do ‘moves’ – unbeknown to them, they were then of course dancing themselves. However, whilst I tried to let the comments pass over me at the time, it’s evident that they have continued to affect me over the years, and they still often crop up in my thoughts whilst I’m on the dancefloor. It’s easy to say that boys should just ‘get over’ comments like these, which are often passed off as childhood banter, but these remarks underlie the toxic, often-heterocentric culture that surrounds dance.

Doug Risner, a Professor of Dance at Wayne State University in Detroit, explored these ideas in his essay on ‘What We Know about Boys Who Dance’ in which he said that, from a young age, males in the dance world are forced to either hide their passion for dance from others, or break the ‘Boy Code’, a set of unwritten expectations which define what it means to ‘be a boy’. Male dancers, like myself, are often seen to be set against this ‘Boy Code’ which drives the underlying judgement and criticism of our passion for dance and everything that surrounds it. Things which would be seen as totally normal for female dancers are almost estranged for men – a prime example of this is the make-up and spray tan culture in Latin and Ballroom, which I have been driven to hate – possibly more than anything else in dance – over the years.

I would then have some pubgoers shouting ‘have you been to a circus?’ at me, outside a venue where I’d just finished a dance competition

Stepping onto a large dancefloor is a thrilling experience for any dancer, but the need for a spray tan is made all too clear under the bright ballroom lights. For a couple of years, I embraced the idea of having a spray tan – it finally meant I felt like a proper ‘part of the team’. However, this temporary thrill was soon beset by more negative quips and comments, particularly at school. Being stared and sniggered at as I walked down the school corridor, constantly being told I looked like Donald Trump or an Oompa-Loompa, feeling like I had to hide my peeling tan in the PE changing room. Something as simple as a spray tan had led me to feel so ‘on display’ at school, and, ironically, it led me to often feel so alone, not knowing who to trust or who wouldn’t judge me. I quickly stopped having spray tans for competitions, and I resorted to using lots of make-up on a competition weekend instead, thinking this would be at least a small fix to my problems. Little did I think, I would then have some pubgoers shouting ‘have you been to a circus?’ at me, outside a venue where I’d just finished a dance competition.

I hope that one day, we live in a society where males can dance without fear of prejudice, bullying or abuse

Prejudice and criticism for breaking the ‘Boy Code’ is a problem that males in dance know all too well, and whilst I’ve perhaps been lucky not to have faced nearly as much abuse as some males have, I have still been shaped by the comments I’ve been met with over the years. I still sometimes question myself as to whether I am doing the ‘right thing’ by dancing, and I doubt whether my love for dance makes me ‘less’ of a man. I still hate the thought of having to dance in front of other males who don’t dance, in fear that they will judge me for what I love.

Whilst some cultural shifts have definitely helped to remedy problems over the years, from the increasing ‘celebrity status’ of male Strictly professionals to films like Billy Elliot, male dancers still to this day face abuse and bullying day in, day out. One study found that 96% of boys who dance have faced either verbal or physical assaults from their peers, compared to one in four boys in general. Dance is a sport where you should be free to perform and feel liberated on the floor, but I have often felt, like many other males, that I’d rather be invisible or be able to hide my passion. A love for any sport shouldn’t make people feel like they have to hide or be someone they are not – and I hope that one day, we live in a society where males can dance without fear of prejudice, bullying or abuse.