There’s a saying in the bellydance community, that a dancer under the age of 30 doesn’t have a story to tell.
Well, personally being a dancer just shy of 30 whose main focus is storytelling in her dance, I think it’s time to debunk this idiom and get to the root of it.

At its best, what does this saying mean? I’d like to think at the heart of it, it means that the older a dancer becomes, the more she has learned, experienced, and has found different ways of saying it. This is most certainly true in any situation.

At its worst, I’ve seen it used as argument against younger dancers who are perhaps more talented, more attractive, and/or more in shape then the arguer was at their age/currently—and maybe they’re even more dedicated to the dance in comparison as well. Therefore, it clearly is a jealousy issue.

It is simply a fact of life, that the more we live, the more we can experience. Now, how we interpret and incorporate that experience is up to the individual. But does that necessarily insinuate that increased age automatically means the capacity and ability to better express oneself, or can we really say that an event in the life of a 45- year-old woman, outweighs an event in the life of a 17-year-old? Certainly not—each experience is vitally important to that individual—what comes before or after doesn’t negate it.

For if that were true, then we wouldn’t have recitals, shows, competitions, etc. for young artists, dancers, writers, musicians, etc. Because, upon reaching 30, we all just instantly become great artists, right? Yes, when it’s put that way, the idea is rather silly. There’s no specific “ripening” age for any art, though it’s generally true that the younger we become involved in the arts, the greater the potential for mastering the art.

Nor is there a ruler for measuring life experience. I’ve taught teenagers whose life stories could put some 60-year-olds to shame. You can’t tell me that a kid that’s been through emotional and physical trauma has less to say than some straight-laced person three times their age. They may not have the same vocabulary for expressing it, but that doesn’t make their contribution any less. Rather, it’s more remarkable and in the essence of who they are.

Really, it comes down to every dancer has a story to tell. And if they can stop for a moment and consider what it is and what it means to them before they get on that stage, then it will show in their dancing—whether they’re 20 or 50, been dancing for 2 years or 2 dozen. Also, we need to appreciate how our level of age and experience reflects our ability to tell a story—that’s what gives each story it’s own unique view and voice—what we have brought to it so far. So we can tell the same story at 18, 26, 37, 45, and 65—and have it be different every time. Our age doesn’t make it better, it simply colors how we interpret the symbols and signs.

This phenomenon is true for both the dancer, as well as the audience. Remember, we see the world differently depending on how long we’ve been in it. It’s up to us as the audience to be open to the story and take it to heart in our own way.

Tempest