Tears in dance class are not a rare occurrence, especially with younger dancers.
When a dancer cries, they are showing us that they feel safe being vulnerable.
According to Brené Brown, “Vulnerability sounds like truth and feels like courage. Truth and courage aren't always comfortable, but they're never weakness."
Tears are vulnerable. And vulnerability is "the birthpalce of love, belonging, joy, courage, empathy, creativity"... and connection.
I’ve come to accept this truth, not just from research, but from personal experience. After allowing myself to cry, I always feel a sense of relief, clarity, and growth. I tend to cry only around people I trust, and once the tears pass, I gain new insights about myself, evolving into a more authentic version of who I am.
Yet, despite understanding this, I’ve felt discomfort when witnessing others cry. The instinct to “fix it” or say, “It’s okay” often arises. But why?
It’s because we’ve been conditioned to see tears as something to be avoided. We’re told to be happy, to stop crying, that there’s no reason to be sad. This programming teaches us to suppress emotions rather than accept them.
While tears may be uncomfortable, the real issue arises when dancers start hiding their emotions. Because that is a clear sign that we’ve lost their trust.
If we can reprogram ourselves to embrace this discomfort and allow our dancers to cry, we’ll create stronger, deeper connections with them. This is not only important in life but especially in the dance classroom.
A side note: Being comfortable with tears doesn’t mean we’re being “pushovers” or easily manipulated. In fact, it’s often our discomfort with tears that leads to manipulation. This is when we either bend to get rid of their sadness (by offering a lollipop, toy, or whatever they want) or resort to fear tactics to suppress their emotions (through yelling or punishing). In such moments, we lose their respect, because they recognize that we lose our stability when they express uncomfortable emotions.
I can't tell you how many times I have gotten "my way" simply by creating space for my own children to get their tears (and tantrums) out. By holding space for their emotions without wavering, not only have I avoided losing their trust and respect, but they are also more likely to cooperate and accept whatever situation was upsetting them in the first place.
Dance is a deeply vulnerable art, and without emotional safety, dancers cannot reach their full potential.
The better version of ourselves lies on the other side of our vulnerabilities—whether it be sadness, anger, or tears. As dance teachers, our role is to guide dancers across their bridge of emotions, allowing them to reach the other side without blocking or suppressing their journey, nurturing their growth into resilient and self-aware humans.
Above all, the strongest stance we can take is to be unapologetically comfortable with our students’ tears.
This starts from the very first class—whether it’s a three-year-old shedding tears of uncertainty or a seasoned dancer facing frustration. How we respond can shape their relationship with dance for years to come... or maybe even for the rest of their lives.
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