After dancing and teaching for over twenty years, taking the stage at the North American Irish Dance Championships had never crossed my mind. Having started aged 21, I’ve only danced – in both CLRG and WIDA – as an adult, so I’ve relegated myself to the fact that a lot of dance opportunities that I might’ve had as a child are simply out of reach now. So, when I walked into class at the Maguire Academy of Irish Dance in Tucson, Arizona for the first time in 2021 and one of the teachers said, “You’re good. You should go to Oireachtas,” I was floored.
And thus began my first experiences at CLRG “majors.”
When my teacher and I discussed going to Nationals this year, I couldn’t help but wonder if I truly belonged. I’ve never recalled at Oireachtas and have only placed in the top three at local feiseanna, but my TC kept reassuring me that I’ve earned it. So, I booked my trip to Texas and started increasing practices and workouts.
The first thing I noticed when I arrived at the host hotel were the accents. I’d totally forgotten that dancers attend this event from all over the world, so it was fun to try and guess where everybody was from. It was also intimidating; I wondered what I’d gotten myself into.
Naturally, I lived in my head the entire night. I practised a bit, but not too much. As my TC always says, “the work is done”. Watching other adults practice, I questioned whether or not I should be pushing myself more, twelve hours before my competition. I also watched other adults go up on pointe in their hard shoes and wondered if my lack of that skill would affect my placement. My ankles have always been wet noodles, and it’s something I’ve always been self conscious of.
But I kept telling myself, “It’s just for fun. You’re just grateful to be here”. And it’s the truth. It worked, until I packed up my solo dress the next morning and headed back to the venue. That’s when the case of “imposter syndrome” kicked in again.
One of my goals is to always talk to other adult dancers, if they’re not too nervous, before competition. I’m a big believer that, if we’re willing to share our feelings, we’ll be more comfortable on stage. Because it turns out that we’re almost always feeling the same things.
I was strangely calm on stage. More calm than I usually am at a local competition. I was very aware, for my hard shoe round, that I was competing against somebody much younger than me, but I ignored it and did my best. And I had a blast. I was able to dance with a friend for my soft shoe, which will always be my favourite memory of the day. We walked off stage with our arms around each other, laughing.
One of the things I’ve taken away from NANs is the need for age groups in adults. We’re still new to the world of this competition, and everything takes time. The addition of the Advanced Adults competition – for those who have danced previously and made it to prelims – did make it feel like a more even playing field, as I was dancing against people who started as adults, like myself. But dancing against somebody half my age was also a noticeable barrier, and it was a concern that many adults voiced.
We always say to each other that we’ll “see you at Nationals”, but frankly, I saw most of my past teachers and dance friends in passing. Everybody was too busy practising or too nervous to socialise.
I didn’t recall and didn’t place where I would’ve wanted to, which of course, took me a week to get over. However, I left NANs feeling truly satisfied. And the sense of community amongst the adult dancers is still something that I adore more than the dancing itself.
Dancing as an adult at Nationals may definitely be one of the toughest competitions you’ll ever face, but if you’ve got it on your bucket list to dance your heart out on that stage, it’s worth it.
