Identity, confidence, authenticity

Let's talk a little about identity, confidence, and authenticity as a dancer.

This thought process started for me at COA. The challenge was — when I was dancing in All-Star/Champ strict, I felt so small, like I was nothing. What was the point of me dancing there if everyone was watching the Big Champs, and I was just filling the room between them? So I started talking to people, asking them what they thought differentiates a Champ from an All-Star. And I came to think it is energy. So why do Champs have such a contagious, attractive energy that you cannot look away from?

Charisma, character, personality. And every Champ is so different. So how can we build that kind of energy — the kind that the person in the furthest corner of the ballroom can feel? By finding, and knowing, and fully accepting yourself. It is not about being arrogant, or letting your ego rule, or wearing a fake mask. I don't want that. It is about knowing yourself, and letting others be themselves.

We all struggle, in one way or another, with confidence at comps — missing a phrase change, falling, dropping a partner, being stressed about not making finals or not placing first, overthinking what people will think if we do that move or wear those shoes, feeling pain when somebody criticises or doesn't appreciate our dancing. I do, too. Very often, I feel nervous, or like I am not enough, or I doubt that the partner I drew is enjoying the dance with me. People often tell me they would never guess I am nervous — but I am. We are good at hiding what we feel.

And we all know the opposite, too. The moments when we are being a hundred-percent unapologetically ourselves, and we feel so confident and at peace that we don't care what anybody thinks. In those moments, we fully accept ourselves. We relax. We are present.

I know what kind of dancer I am at my best. I know that state of mind, that peace, that joy when I am fully me. I am like a fountain of energy in those moments — relaxed, free, risky, courageous, emotional, sensual, sensitive, feminine. I live in those moments. I feel the most alive, the truest, the most honest. I feel like I love everyone, and the urge to give and to share explodes in me. Inspiration and ideas flow into my body like they're coming from somewhere up there. I don't think. I don't plan. I flow.

Do you ever see me like that at comps? I can't really remember those moments. Maybe sometimes on the social floor. I think I am at ten percent of my capacity at comps. Why? I cannot relate to certain types of music. I know that as a professional, I have to. And I am trying. But that isn't the true me — it is an appropriate, safe version of me. We can call it a strategy that works, but sadly, no one is really seeing the way I can be. Slow, lyrical, emotional songs are what move me, what feel most natural for me. And I need to trust my partner fully — I need a deep connection, a sense of being accepted by him, the feeling of whatever I do, he supports me, he appreciates me. When that piece is missing, it sometimes blocks me, freezes me, and prevents me from dancing my best. Professionals are supposed to deliver a great dance to any song, with any partner. But we are also humans, with insecurities.

We all know the magical, memorable dances every dancer craves to have. The ones where nobody cares about placement, but the dance gets rewatched a million times. One of the most iconic dances for me is Christopher Dumond and Cameo McHenry at TAP 2021 to "Dancing on My Own." What a magical song that helped the dancers show their best.

I don't blame DJs — I have compassion for them. They are in a very difficult position; they will never be able to please everyone. I am only begging them, before playing something in spotlight finals, to think for a minute about whether there is a chance for a meaningful dance to that song. It is teamwork — DJ, dancers, spectators — we all create the magical moments together. Sometimes it is obvious that one couple got the worst song. I kindly, respectfully ask DJs for mercy.

Here are a few things, from my own experience, that have made me feel really good as a dancer — and might help you find yourself, too:

1. Chuck Brown's "Emotion in Motion" intensive. I could never imagine I could perform like that. Fearless, true, high-energy. (I just never give myself permission to dance like that at comps.)
2. Laurie Schwimmer's private lessons. The happiest I have ever felt as a dancer. I wish I could ever dance at a comp at even twenty-five to fifty percent of what I was at her lessons. It was unspeakable joy. You cannot imagine how different you can become without trying her lessons. Laurie is gold. I hope there is another teacher who teaches similar things — please share with me if you know of one.
3. Rosemary Whitson's online classes. OMG. You cannot imagine the things she brings up — and the kind, supportive, healthy way she talks about mindset and identifying yourself as a dancer. Highly recommend. She impressed me so much with her kindness and her honesty. I could repeat all her words here, because I agree with every one of them, but I think it is fairer if you check out her classes for yourself. Reach out to her — it will make you both happy.

So I know my strong sides, and I know what I can be. It makes me sad as an artist that I haven't found a way to dance my best with any random partner to any random song at comps. Maybe that is why I crave routine work so much — because in a routine you are in control of the song and of the partner, and you can finally show the world the magic you carry in your wildest dreams.

So — what are your values, my friend? Your strong sides? The qualities that make you feel good about yourself? Which strong sides could you water more, so they bloom into your own style and your own brand? If you can figure that out and stick with it, believe in it, move forward with kindness — then competition results will not ruin your weekend, and no matter how you place, when you dance fully as yourself, you will inspire other people to be themselves, instead of copying each other.

My goal is to figure out how to be that other Maria, regularly — the one almost nobody has seen — and to perform that magical routine I carry in my mind with the right person. And in doing that, to inspire others to be themselves, too.