We’re excited to introduce you to the always interesting and insightful Jenna Skipworth. We hope you’ll enjoy our conversation with Jenna below.

Hi Jenna, thanks for joining us today. What were some of the most unexpected problems you’ve faced in your career and how did you resolve those issues?

I chose to be a dancer when I was just two years old, and I’ve been obsessed ever since.

It’s no surprise that the dance world is filled with twists and turns (to put it kindly) that my two-year-old self could have never foreseen. As I continue onto my second decade as a professional freelance dancer, I’ve noticed problems and obstacles that have consistently appeared. These are things that no mentor mentioned or prepared me for. I don’t think it is typical to talk about these things, which is why I make it a priority to guide younger dancers and athletes and prepare them for the darker side of pursuing such an intense career.

I could sit here and list all the problems with the dance world for hours, but one that I feel is rarely talked about is identity.
Particularly finding identity as a dancer, outside of dance.
Although I absolutely despised high school, there was one thing everyone knew about me that was true. I was known as “Jenna the ballerina.“ Somehow this statement always felt true, but odd. Yes, that’s me, but is that all I can be summed up as? The most exciting part about who I am? Or is it just the part that I’m known for being obsessed with?

True, I traded Friday night football games for Sleeping Beauty and Nutcracker rehearsals, took weeks out of my summer vacations every year to travel to a summer intensive out of state, and spent all day Saturday in the studio instead of many other things, but those are choices that were never difficult to make. Probably solidifying my title of “Jenna the ballerina who doesn’t do anything but go to dance.“

There are so many aspects of being a dancer that can muddle your identity. I spent so much time at a young age identifying so deeply as a dancer that I feel like I lost what made me personally unique. Don’t get me wrong, I love dancing and it is part of who I am. Being a dancer will always be part of me, long after I stop dancing (which I hope is never). However, over time I’ve realized that being a dancer doesn’t have to be the thing that completely defines me. I’ve learned that I’m in way more of a fragile state when dance is my whole self. Sometimes I try so hard (too hard) to be accepted and validated by the dance world with the hope that I can feel like my identity is solidified and accepted.

There have been years of my life where I get stuck in these bad identity crisis patterns. To combat this, I’ve tried to learn more about myself and what truly fills my soul outside the walls of the studio. I love teaching, being with family, traveling, and sewing. These things are part of me just as much as dance is. Knowing this about myself has made me more comfortable and confident in who I am.

I have realized that confidence in who you are as a dancer and as an individual changes the way you stand in your own skin. Days that I feel rooted and confident in who I am are the best days I have. I’m still figuring out aspects of who I am on a daily basis, but the more I understand the kind of person and dancer I am, the more beautiful life becomes.

Jenna, before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?

You could say I was destined to be a dancer or at least, that’s what I’ve told myself. My earliest memories of life are standing in dance class, marveling at how cool a rond de jambe is. When I was about two years old, I asked my mom to put me into dance classes. Fate? Some sort of weird prophecy? An episode of Teletubbies that featured a dancer? Who knows. Still to this day none of us can tell you exactly why I asked my mom to put me into ballet classes, but every day I am incredibly grateful that dance has been such a strong force in my life.

When I turned 18, I took an unconventional approach to college and work. Instead of a 4-year college, I decided my time was more fulfilling if I spent it doing 10 things rather than just 1. I started freelance dancing professionally, pursued a comprehensive Pilates certification and Franklin Method certification, taught dance, started a dance medicine program, and got a degree in music from Berklee College of Music online.
Now, at the end of my twenties, I am still dancing professionally, I love learning new things about anatomy and functional movement, and I am still teaching dance and Pilates.

Nothing beats the feeling of being on stage, but teaching is incredibly fulfilling.
I LOVE teaching.

Somehow, when I was young, I always knew I was going to be a teacher. Not that I necessarily had the ultimate goal and desire to be one, I just somehow knew. Growing up, I watched my mom be a strong and fierce fitness instructor. I always admired her motivation for exercise and for helping people feel better through movement. I guess teaching is in my blood.

When I took classes at a very young age, I would try to think of ways that I would teach the class differently. Even though my experience was slim to none, I started creating class plans in my own head for a class that I would want to take.

I had my first “teaching” experience in 7th grade as a teacher’s assistant for a few ballet classes. I learned a lot from directly observing the way the teacher of the class ran things. I saw class from a whole different perspective. I respected teachers even more because I saw more things that I didn’t notice before. Class planning, guiding, keeping kids interested and in line, and more.

I care so much about teaching and being a good teacher that it is always hard if someone doesn’t like me or the class I teach (rare but painful – haha). No matter how much I learn or refine my teaching skills, I’m not going to be everyone’s cup of tea. This goes back to identity again. As long as I strive to keep learning and be the best version of myself, the less it hurts to feel rejected by students (teenagers can be so mean even with more than 10 years of age difference). If I have taught a fun, functional, and safe class with confidence and kindness, then I’ve done my job. If I create an environment that helps students try things without fear of failure and learn their bodies better, then I’ve reached my goals for that 90 minutes.

There’s something extremely profound about 30 or more people in one class, doing choreography, or a combination that you have come up with in your own head. It also becomes extremely intimidating to think that each one of those people is having their own individual experience while taking the entire class sometimes when I think too much about this, the way of teaching becomes really heavy. This is probably why some days I spent three hours of class planning for my most high-pressure class each week which is an adult-drop in ballet class.

I’ve used my knowledge from Pilates, anatomy, music school, and the Franklin Method to really influence and guide my teaching. I get so excited when I can implement functional movement practices and watch them click in a student’s head. I feel that I am a unique teacher because I put so much emphasis on functional movement and imagery that is accessible and easy to understand, and not many people go through the amount of training and learning to understand how to accomplish this. I’m so passionate about teaching and mentoring, and I feel so lucky every day that I’ve had access to such amazing teachers and classes to get me to where I am now.

There’s always more to learn, there’s always room to improve and it makes me really excited to keep growing as a teacher and a dancer.

We’d love to hear a story of resilience from your journey.

I’m constantly amazed by my friends in the professional dance world and their resilience. After being a professional dancer for so many years, I understand that resilience is necessary to survive in the dance world.

If you are or have ever been a dancer, or even tried to pursue any kind of sport or art, you’ve definitely dealt with rejection. Unfortunately, most of the time rejection has nothing to do with your abilities, but with just about everything else that’s out of your control. I’ve dealt with so much rejection in my dance career. So much that I can’t count on my two hands, but can somehow vibrantly replay each instance in my head.

Rejection alters our reality and changes the course of our lives. That’s what makes it so heavy.

I consider myself a fairly strong person. After surviving too many bullies to count while growing up, I feel like I can let lots of things slide now as an adult. (also thanks therapy, you rock)
However, dance rejection feels like it’s on another level. I haven’t only observed this in myself, I’ve seen close friends get shut down for bizarre “reasons” throughout their careers too.
I take some random person yelling at me on the street then having a dream and then being told I wasn’t someone’s choice.

So how do we handle rejection? If you are a dancer, you’ve already dealt with rejection before if you are planning to pursue dance throughout your life, you need to be ready for the potential to face so much more of it. It’s a choice if you want to continue going forward or not.

Rejection causes grief, and that’s okay. We sometimes need to grieve the death of a dream we had when we pursued a role or a company. Know that the feeling is temporary and it is best to feel it, recognize it, and move through it then push it aside. Know where to place the pain, and if you feel you must place blame, don’t put it on the person who got the role or the spot that you wanted. Feel the feelings you need to, then use them to motivate you to move forward.

The best thing that’s helped me deal with rejection, especially lately, is to remember that I am more than what someone’s opinion is of me. If I value and love myself, then someone else’s random opinion won’t knock me down as hard and recovery will take so much less time.
I hate bringing up a cliché, but clichés are clichés for a reason. Every time I look back on my life and see a rejection I see a different path than I had chosen myself form and develop and bring me to where I am now.
I wouldn’t be who I am, or where I am without those types of rejection, including where I even live geographically in the world, who I’m friends with, and maybe even more. All things are like a carefully laid plan once I gain distance and turn back to look at what the heck happened.

In your view, what can society to do to best support artists, creatives and a thriving creative ecosystem?

The best way society can support artists is to indulge in art!! Go out to shows at your local small and large theaters, buy a subscription to the local ballet company, donate money to the companies, or even sponsor an artist if you can.
If you are in a place where you don’t have the extra money to spend, try to look out for free shows in your community and attend those too! Artists of all kinds love to have support – even in the form of an extra audience member cheering them on!

Contact Info:

• Instagram: @jennacarara

Image Credits
Ballet Zaida/Oliver Endahl, Katherine Beliveau Photography