Dancing has always been, and always will be, something that brings me immeasurable joy. Growing up, my parents would throw neighborhood parties whenever the mood struck, playing record after record of ABBA, the Electric Light Orchestra, and the Talking Heads. Adults and children, including the younger me, moved and grooved ‘till way past our bedtimes. When the festivities came to an end, a palpable spark of elated contentment shone in our guests’ eyes as they bopped and swayed out of our house into the night.
I knew, from those early experiences, that I’d been hard-wired for joyful movement. Dancing without rules or the imposition of judgment was in my bones. That said, my comfort in self-expression declined sharply in my teenage years, when dancing suddenly became more about perfection than elation. I took plenty of traditional dance classes, but since I hadn’t started formal training as a toddler, I couldn’t hoist my leg up behind my ear or keep up with the speed at which all the other near-professional fifteen-year-olds memorized choreography.
This is when my teenage anxiety and self-judgment about dance set in. I was elegant but a bit clumsy. An ADHD diagnosis clarified why choreography was often so challenging for me. I didn’t want to follow the rules. I just wanted to groove. So, after embarrassing myself in ballet class and being rejected from my town’s local dance team when I was seventeen, I took a hiatus from dancing altogether.
In 2017, I continued my movement journey by becoming a yoga instructor in Tennessee and embraced other somatic healing modalities, such as mindfulness meditation. I didn’t yet know my yoga training would be an instrumental springboard back into the world of creative movement.
New York City’s Movement Scene
When I moved back to New York City at the end of 2020—a place overflowing with creative energy and opportunity—I decided to give dance classes another try. But this time, I wasn’t attempting to be a dancer in the traditional sense. No ballet. No tap. No jazz. I was seeking something that felt a little less routine. Even yoga was beginning to feel a bit too structured at that point, but it had solidified a comfort in expansive postures that would translate into creative movement accordingly.
The sincerely welcoming reality of NYC’s movement scene was not something I anticipated. I started by taking actress Angela Trimbur’s now iconic Thirteen class, which combines the whimsical eccentricities of middle school musical theater games with backyard choreography sessions at your best friend’s house. While it involves accessible choreography, the goal is to have fun and embrace imperfections in the quest to heal your inner child. There was no rigidity or rules for style. Through these classes, I discovered teachers leading even more abstract improvisational movement jams. And my dedication to this style of dancing blossomed from there.
Now, after four years of avid involvement in this style of movement work, I’ve attained that childhood feeling I’d been chasing and more. These classes have made me more confident, less anxious, stronger, and more adaptable to change. Existing at the intersection of physical and emotional conditioning, they’ve helped me equally in stressful work situations and athletic pursuits like tackling new ski runs or a challenging fitness class.
Moreover, creative movement has provided a sense of self-acceptance that anyone, regardless of their goal, can benefit from.
(FYI:Watch me engage in creative movement in the video below. Trust me. You don’t want to miss it. Video by Kate Nelson.)
What Is a Creative Movement Class Anyway?
There’s no hard and fast definition of what a creative movement class is, but they typically involve an hour or more of free-form expressive movement in a big open space (usually a dance studio) with others doing the same. Similar to yoga or active meditation styles, these classes are somatically driven, meaning they aim to enhance a mind-body connection through the principles of openness, exploration, permission, and release.
I’ve Experimented with Tons of Classes
Some of the more popular styles of creative movement and classes I have taken include Ecstatic Dance, a type of freeform, non-verbal, barefoot movement class facilitated by a DJ, popularized by Gabrielle Roth in the 1970s. I’ve tried Gaga Movement Language, a multisensory dance class that focuses on building stamina and flexibility, developed by choreographer Ohad Naharin. I attended my first Contact Improv class, a form of partnered dance, in 2022, and it was a transformative experience. I gave Allan Wayne Work a shot. It’s a blend of ballet, yoga, and emotional work invented by male ballerino Allan Wayne. It’s now taught by Paul Langland and others, including my personal teachers, Michelle Uranowitz and Julia Crockett, both of whom are movement specialists. Another one I took is called Dance Church, an inclusive pop music dance class created by choreographer Kate Wallich in 2010.
I Get to Feel at Ease in My Own Body—and Don’t Have to Worry About Being Good at It
The thing about these classes is you have to be ready to feel a little silly at first. It took me a few sessions to get over the initial awkwardness before tapping into the underutilized nooks and crannies of my body. But once I figured out how to let go of shame and overanalyzation, something clicked. It’s that feeling of peace and full-body ease you get after a great yoga class, paired with the endorphins of a lively fitness class, paired with the self-assuredness of a heart-to-heart with a new friend.
Dancing without rules or the imposition of judgment was in my bones. That said, my comfort in self-expression declined sharply in my teenage years, when dancing suddenly became more about perfection than elation.
The teachers guide the classes in an overarching way, but you, the dancer, are in total control of how your physical expression manifests. There is no choreography or specific steps to memorize. There is no right or wrong way to point your toes and no requirement to look “like a dancer.”
Uranowitz, who’s also a filmmaker and adjunct professor at New York University, says, “It’s hard for people to wrap their heads around something that doesn’t have a tangible means to an end, but it’s that discomfort that is so essential.” That sense of open-endedness can be pretty scary for people, but leaning into fear makes you feel alive, she says. “And that space is where some of the best work is done. This applies to athleticism and athletic or endurance goals as well because finding acceptance in the discomfort is an integral part of the process.”
This notion of embracing discomfort has also been unexpectedly helpful in awkward social scenarios. Maybe I’m showing up somewhere alone, and I don’t know anyone, or there’s an uncomfortable silence or pause in conversation. I’m more OK with the tension because I’ve learned how to push through it and let my authentic self shine through.
Creative Movement Is Great for Emotional and Psychological Wellness
The woo-woo presentation of these classes could lead some people to shy away from them, but in reality, their purpose and physiological impact are evidence-based and rooted in science.
Dance Movement Therapy, as defined by the American Dance Therapy Association (ADTA), is the “psychotherapeutic use of movement to promote emotional, social, cognitive, and physical integration of the individual for the purpose of improving health and well-being.”
These classes have made me more confident, less anxious, stronger, and more adaptable to change. Existing at the intersection of physical and emotional conditioning, they’ve helped me equally in stressful work situations and athletic pursuits like tackling new ski runs or a challenging fitness class.
And there are plenty of studies to back this up. For example, a 2021 study published in Complementary Therapies in Clinical Practice found that unchoreographed, conscious dance resulted in improved mood and confidence among the majority of 1,000 participants who had anxiety, depression, or trauma.
Joan Wittig, a dance movement therapist and co-founder of the graduate Dance/Movement Therapy Program at Pratt Institute in New York City, says, “When we begin to move, our attention shifts to a sensory experience that is often neglected when we are living more in our thoughts–or on our computers or phones. Movement involves the whole body in ways that are outside of habit and gives us access to experiences outside our normal experiences.”
The first time I showed up to an ecstatic dance class, I was terribly nervous. I’m supposed to free-style dance for two hours in a room full of strangers…sober? I’ve always struggled with anxiety, but over the years, I’ve built up a toolkit of ways to regulate myself. One of those tools is consistently pushing myself out of my comfort zone.
Even though dancing in a room of strangers seemed scary, I knew how good it would make me feel afterward, so I persevered. Then I went again and again, and the more I did, the more expressive and comfortable I became. I didn’t care about how I looked or what other people thought of me, but I was still happy to be present with everyone else who was being their most unapologetic and freest selves.
“Movers are invited to remember that they are at home in their bodies. Engaging in dance invites an integrated experience of self. Through movement, one can clarify and integrate feeling, sensing, thinking, and moving,” says Wittig.
Creative Movement Is Athletically Rigorous in Unexpected Ways
Dancing makes us feel good because it’s a form of expressive release, but let’s not forget that it’s also a form of exercise. When I first started these classes, I wasn’t specifically in it for the fitness component, but I quickly realized what an intense workout they could be.
“I’ve always seen the movement work as athletic, and what might seem woo-woo or ephemeral to some is, in fact, a highly technical training that requires skill. We’re not just rolling around on the ground; we’re building muscle—both mental and physical,” says Uranowitz.
It’s a common rule in these classes that you can move in whatever way feels good to your body, but you can’t stop moving. That might sound easy enough, especially if you’re an athletically inclined individual, but you’d be surprised how much effort it takes to dance with abandon for nearly two hours straight.
Due to the spontaneous nature of the practice, I am constantly surprised by what muscles I end up using or how well stretched out I feel afterward. Basically, I’m tuning into my body’s needs in a way that is simultaneously strengthening and therapeutic.
Another key component of these classes is the intermittent teacher-guided sections that focus on building stamina in specific parts of the body. We’ll isolate a repetitive motion in our shoulders, our ankles, or our feet and explore the boundaries of sensation. The muscle starts to burn, but we stay present with the sensation and push through to the other side.
“I think this idea of building sensation, especially as it pertains to muscles and fascia, is where our work lives. And it’s not just about sensation that feels good. You’re feeling sensation because we want to live a life where we are permitting ourselves to experience the world, away from our phones and computers,” Uranowitz says.
This aspect of creative movement can be particularly beneficial for serious athletes. It’s a form of physical conditioning that emulates the intense sensation and persistence required on a long run, a steep ski run, or whatever you’re called to do.
“Athletes use their training and discipline to guard them and move them forward in their athletic goals. But it can also limit them. Sometimes, we don’t listen to aspects of our physical experience due to psychological reasons. Expressive movement can move us beyond that. It can free us from rigid expectations. It can help us recognize what we expect of ourselves and how we judge ourselves,” says Wittig.
Some Final Thoughts For Anyone Inspired to Give Creative Movement a Try
The magic of these classes for me is that while there is no explicit goal or immediate reward for the effort we exert, we are still actively building skills and applying them to other areas of our lives. Why do we choose to run marathons, or climb mountains, or make a work of art? There’s no real practical reason for any of these things, but they make us feel more human.
The point is to put in the effort while reconnecting with ourselves and the world around us. “You show up to figure out where you’re getting in your own way; you show up to figure out what’s keeping you from letting go or what’s keeping you from getting messy,” says Uranowitz.
Showing up is the truest work in every aspect of our lives; that’s perseverance. This applies to our relationships, to our athletic endeavors, and to ourselves.
“You don’t come to class to be good at it; you come to class to make mistakes and feel OK with making mistakes, losing your sense of control a little bit. Being in a room where what-ifs are playing out in real-time can be a relief, I think,” says Uranowitz.
If you’ve made it this far in the article, I hope you’re now eager to try one of these classes. Access may depend on where you live, but most cities offer some variation. That said, you should still do your research beforehand.
“Expressive, intuitive, or therapeutic movement is wonderful work. But you have to find the modality and the teacher who feels like the right fit for you,” says Wittig.
If there aren’t any classes available in your area, I suggest dancing in your living room on your own or with your dog or your partner or your kids until you’re totally exhausted and taking note of how you feel afterward. Let yourself be fully present in your body and brain, and the answers you seek will become apparent.
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