Eating disorders, body dysmorphia and the rigours of pro ballet: Two dancers tell all

Veteran ballerina Xia Hai Ying’s formative years were the stuff of movies. As a young girl in China, the now 45-year- old was plucked from her school and enrolled into a rigorous dance programme; as a 10-year-old at the famed Beijing Dance Academy, Xia and her compatriots would often hold lighters under their legs to ensure they would maintain their form in front of their teachers — for fear of the punishment they’d endure if they didn’t.

“I survived fairly easily, but I was one of the lucky ones,” says Xia, who joined the Singapore Dance Theatre at the age of 17. “But if I was someone who was struggling every day, and always in the bottom — that would kill someone.”

In 2010, Xia hung up her pointe shoes and turned to teaching. “Teachers back in my time only had one approach: You do whatever I say. So when I first started teaching, I took that same approach,” says Xia, founded City Ballet Academy in 2012. “It was not sensitive because we weren’t treated sensitively.”

One of her students of the time was Adelene Stanley, an award- winning dancer who’s been on numerous world tours; most notably, she was part of the troupe that performed Inala — A Zulu Ballet for the British Royal Family in 2014.

Stanley knew she wanted to pursue ballet as a career, so she pushed herself incessantly. Her personal quest for perfection was so intense that she developed an eating disorder at the age of 12, one that persisted till she was 16; “For a long time, the most difficult part of my day was looking in the mirror,” she says.

Xia was one of the teachers who took notice of how thin Stanley had gotten, and kept a close eye on her wellbeing. Today Stanley — who is also a freelance dance and movement therapy teacher — credits her success not just to her own unerring drive to succeed, but also to the support of mentors like Xia.

Here, the teacher and her former student reflect on how their art has changed over the years — for the better, and for the worse.

Growing up in dance school, was it common to deal with body image issues? Has that changed today?

Adelene Stanley: I was hard on myself, that’s true. I felt like that pressure was mostly from myself. When my eating disorder got really bad, I was pulled out of performances in SOTA. I felt sad, because at the time I was really skinny. But I think they were trying to make a point — that I had to be healthier, then I could perform.

Hai Ying: I understand the struggle. I think as dancers, we all go through that — even when I was a dancer, especially when I was around 17, 18. It’s just a certain age where you just feel chubbier, no matter what you do. When you’re a dancer, you understand that your physical image is very, very important. And this leads students to have really high expectations of themselves; they want perfection.

I think that’s another issue about classical ballet as an art form — it was never about individuality. To put it in a negative way, everyone had to fit the same mould when you look into the mirror. But nobody is formed perfect. So you end up criticising your physicality a lot: I grew up looking in the mirror, looking at other girls and going, “How come she has higher legs, smaller knees, a smaller face?”

AS: But I think nowadays there’s more acceptance in the ballet world. Instead of trying to fit everyone into a mould, there’s more celebration of individuality today.

HY: Definitely more than during my time. When I was a young girl growing up in China, they would select dancers from schools, and we would all look the same. They look at you, they measure you, they also have a whole machine that can estimate your body proportions when you grow up.

And it was tough in school. During our dance practice, we would hold lighters under our own legs to make sure we keep our form — we were so scared of what the teachers would do if we weren’t good.

Looking back at that harsh experience today — what do you think about it? How has that shaped you as a dancer, as a teacher?

HY: I do feel that system made me a better dancer. I think the hard environment, actually can equip you with more ability to grow. But I was a lucky one: It just happened that my ability matched the path. So I survived fairly easily, in that even though we were pushed physically, it was never something I couldn’t do. But if I was someone who was in the system, and who was struggling every day, and always in the bottom — that would kill someone.

Teachers back then only had one approach: You do whatever I say. So when I first started teaching, I took that same approach. It was not sensitive because we weren’t treated sensitively. As a student, a lot of finer details of our emotions weren’t recognised; growing up in that environment, you learn to erase a lot of your feelings — and that was the way we were trained to be, as dancers.

AS: Whereas now, the thinking in dance is — you have to really search for your emotions.

HY: That’s why Adelene has such a different approach to her students, because I think she understands that. When I face a group of students that didn’t grow up in the same way I did... It took me time to realise that if I kept up that old approach, I might hurt someone.

AS: Now, with my own students, I think one thing I really have to do is listen to them. It’s not just about telling them what to do — I want to actively listen to what they say, to hear how they are growing. It’s a two-way street. You need to allow your students to see you vulnerable also, because then trust you — it’s all about building that trust.

How do you think Singapore’s view of ballet, of the arts, has changed over the years?

AS: Dancing as a hobby? Sure, everyone enjoys it now — but as a career, I feel like there’re still some reservations. But I understand completely, because it’s not easy.

When I was in SOTA, I was very determined to convince my parents to let me go overseas to study dance. I feel that if I had gone through the traditional IB path, dance would have just been a floating thing — but I really wanted to do it.

HY: When I was here at 17, in 1993, a taxi driver asked me what I did, and I told him I was a dancer. He thought I was a lounge performer — he asked me what time my set was and he’d come watch. [laughs]

Back in the ’90s in Singapore, parents wouldn’t allow their kids to do ballet classes, even as a hobby. They’d say it doesn’t earn money. But just look at the number of ballet schools here today: Parents are a lot more supportive compared to those times. There are even schools like SOTA — the government is also more supportive of the arts.

AS: Overall, I do think society has changed, and there’s a little more appreciation for the arts today. But it’s never enough. It does have to start somewhere — now, you see there’s more recognition of using the arts even as a form of therapy.

When I go overseas, artists are viewed so, so differently. For example when we went to Russia and people learned we were dancers, everyone was like, “wow!” They really respect you. But when you come to Singapore... we are non-essential. [both laugh]

It hurts a lot, because I feel like an outsider in my own country. But I know progress takes time.

Photography GAN KAH YING

Styling GREGORY WOO

Styling Assistant ADELYNN WONG