Dancers and addiction – Matthew Paluch looks at the traits of dancers that could align with addictive behaviour patterning.
I’ve long been thinking about writing a piece concerning dancers and addiction, and finally here we are. Why now? Social media of course…
I saw an Instagram post by former New York City Ballet principal dancer Amar Ramasar on 23 July 2024. Ramasar hadn’t posted for a year, and in this new content he confirmed the below:
I feel compelled to share my most recent and life changing victory, I finally faced my longtime battle with addiction. I am 52 days sober, and still can’t believe I had courage to confront the fear this disease brings, and humbled by seeing the world with completely clear eyes and an open heart.
At the age of 42, Ramasar has turned a new leaf, and this is indeed great news for him. Many in the dance/ballet world will potentially know Ramasar more for the Alexandra Waterbury scandal in 2018 than for his dancing. The fallout saw fellow principal dancer Chase Finlay resign, and Zachary Catazaro and Ramasar initially suspended, then fired post internal investigation, and then reinstated after the decision was challenged by the union American Guild of Musical Artists (AGMA). Catazaro didn’t return, but Ramasar did from July 2021 until retiring from the company in May 2022.
For the record, Finlay also checked into rehab in July 2018 concerning his “battle with substance use disorder, depression, and anxiety”. In a post on Instagram in March 2023, Finlay shared this insightful analysis into dance and addictive behaviour:
I had been desperately trying to live up to the expectations of others and my own perfectionism, which only worsened my confusion and made the person looking back at me in the mirror unrecognizable
We can of course look further back for more historical cases, most notably Gelsey Kirland and Patrick Bissell. Bissell died of a drug overdose in 1987, and Kirkland was explicit about her own drug taking and addictive behaviour in her controversial book Dancing on My Grave: An Autobiography published in 1986.
This musing isn’t an in-depth scientific paper, or overly concerned with the rumour mill. But what I’d like to discuss are the traits of dancers that could align with addictive behaviour patterning, the related environments that encourage dormant susceptibilities and whether enough is being done to pre-empt them through acknowledgement and discussion within the sector.
Oh dancers… such an alien form of being – in both the best and worst of ways. It sounds like a cliché, but I don’t believe ‘normal’ people can be dancers. Normal is a minefield in itself – however I’ll endeavour to explain the sweeping statement.
Dance as a practice is like few others. When one considers the diligence and relentless repetition required by the art form, it takes a certain kind of person to go the whole hog and continue on the unstable path. Competition is everywhere and ongoing, and manifests within both the perfectionism aspect of the genre, as well as directly with fellow contemporaries. If a dancer is tenacious and successful they’ll gain employment in a ballet company on graduation.
Ballet companies are microcosms. This is the reality for both practical and social reasonings. Dancers don’t live 9-to-5 lifestyles, and because of this their social circles are somewhat reduced. This imposed reduction can start to act as a self-fulfilling prophecy: I don’t feel understood by ‘normal’ people, so I’ll stick to what I know.
Case in point – the working day finishes around 10.30pm when performing. The company is on tour, no one knows anyone outside the troupe, adrenaline is running high post show, most restaurants are closed at this time…so everyone heads to the local pub and hits the booze (and whatever else).
This is where a version of self-medication comes into play, and alcohol and drugs are quick, satisfying remedies. They both work to either soften the blow of the disappointing day/class/rehearsal/performance or elevate the positive, adrenaline high. And if surrounded by colleagues who are all on the same page, or have the capability for embodied empathy, this form of individual/group therapy falls into place very easily, and with regularity. Soon becoming a ritual that’s hard to relinquish.
One could also argue it’s a form of continued control, or rather a way to test it. A dancer’s day is all about discipline, be that in relation to movement or intake (even healthy, appropriate eating: food is fuel etc). So when it comes time to leave the constrained environment, is it any wonder if things go off the scale in the opposite direction? Add pack mentality to the situation, and matters are only amplified/emboldened.
Some of the above may not sound out of the ordinary for ‘normal’ people, but context is paramount. Dancers spend every day (from the age of 11) analysing their bodies in action, being judged by others (the reality even when executed with consideration and care) and basically chasing the next artistic high.
Why? Because there isn’t another feeling like performing. Dedication, perseverance, anticipation, nerves, bravery, fleeting release and adulation. So when the curtain comes down, whether the event was positive or negative, the majority of dancers find themselves already moving onto the following thing. This all equates to a visceral existence, which many will find addictive in its very nature.
Once a lifestyle is in place, it can be difficult to shake even when gainful employment changes. A very overused Martha Graham quote still says it better than any other:
A dancer dies twice – once when they stop dancing, and this first death is more painful.
And many dancers struggle with this combination of lifestyle shift and loss of identity. I definitely did… probably for a good seven-year period after stopping. Am I out of the woods? Who knows… but I’ve been teetotal for 11 years to date, and only at this point did I manage to start to get a handle on the bigger picture, and my place within it.
No one is in denial of the developments within dance education and related professional practice, but I wonder if conversations about possible pitfalls in relation to the profession and addictive behaviour are happening early enough within the sector. The agenda isn’t one of heightened control, but rather more focused on prevention, and therefore enabling dancers to find their art form highs with more self-awareness and long-term stability – as people.
Matthew Paluch( Guest Author )
Matthew Paluch was awarded a place at The Royal Ballet School in 1990 where he graduated in 1997. His first four years as a professional dancer were spent working with London City Ballet, Scottish Ballet, K-Ballet and English National Ballet, becoming a full-time member of ENB until leaving in 2006.
Matthew graduated from the Royal Academy of Dance, Professional Dancers’ Teaching Diploma in 2007, and was formerly on faculty at The Royal Ballet School. He completed his Masters in Ballet Studies at Roehampton University in 2011, has been a freelance writer since 2010 and currently works in the Law Sector.
