4 hours ago
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I recognised the signs straight away: the twirling, the mirror glances, the obsession with her music box. I didn’t need my daughter to ask if I wanted to see her “magic dance show” to confirm it – she was a dance kid.
Despite efforts to offer trucks and tutus, sports with sparkles, I was quietly thrilled. I’d been a dedicated dance kid (and later an unhinged ballet teen) and was excited to see her join the tribe. But when I mentioned ballet lessons to my partner, he was horrified. He spiralled about the pressure, the body image, the gender stereotypes and, most of all, the makeup.
As a child, wearing makeup for competitions and concerts was a fun, if minor, part of dance culture. Increasingly though, the question of whether children should be encouraged to break out the grease paint has been pressing on parents and dance teachers alike. Like my partner, many are wondering whether it’s really appropriate to be encouraging preteens to master winged eyeliner before they’ve earned their pen licence.
Before founding Awaken Dance & Fitness Academy in the northern suburbs of Wollongong, Australia, Amy Graham danced professionally, worked in childcare, and held roles supporting at-risk youth and children with additional needs. These experiences inspired her to open a studio focused on inclusivity, confidence-building and student comfort.
With that philosophy, she joined a growing wave of studios that don’t require uniforms, hair in buns, competitions or performance makeup. “Dance, especially in the early years, is about joy, movement, self-expression and belonging rather than appearance,” Graham says.
“Children are already beautiful without enhancement, and we’re mindful of the subtle messages makeup can send about needing to ‘look different’ in order to perform.”
For Graham, dance has always been a nourishing and affirming pastime. She wants her students to form similar associations, unburdened by expectations about how they should look. “We want our students to look back on their performance memories and see themselves as they truly were at that age: natural, expressive and happy.”
She also believes makeup presents practical barriers to participation. “Removing makeup requirements reduces cost and pressure on families, particularly during concert season,” she says. “Our approach ensures no child feels singled out or uncomfortable for personal, cultural or medical reasons.”
Despite this reasoning, many still see makeup as integral to performance. Onstage makeup plays a practical role, explains Damian Smith, artistic director of the National Ballet and Drama school in Melbourne. “Under theatrical lighting, the face quickly becomes washed out and expression is lost. Makeup exists not for vanity, but to restore definition, allow the audience to read facial expressions, and clearly identify the performer on stage.”
Even so, he stresses the need for restraint with younger dancers. “The purpose [of makeup] is to subtly highlight natural features, not overwhelm them … it must remain age-appropriate, tasteful and restrained.
“Makeup should support the dancer, not compete with them. A little common sense goes a long way.”
Beneath practical considerations – can you see the child’s face from the audience, and does that really matter in nonprofessional settings? – the question of to blush or not to blush taps into a deeper debate about the role and value of dance in young people’s lives.
Looking back on her own career, Yahna, a former professional dancer who requested to be identified by her first name only, has fond memories of wearing makeup on stage.
“Most of the time it was just winged liner, maybe some blush and lipstick,” she says. “But as I got older – with more intense competitions and more elaborate costumes and tutus – we wore fake eyelashes as well.
“I enjoyed the process; it was part of the performance, the presentation and the magic. It wasn’t something that was pushed on us.”
She believes children can distinguish between onstage aesthetics and everyday beauty ideals. “It wasn’t about beauty standards; it was about putting on a costume and becoming a character. It’s part of the storytelling.
“You got on stage and you were Giselle, or Aurora, or a rat in The Nutcracker. Then you stepped off and you were back to being a seven-year-old.”
With that perspective, she didn’t hesitate to enrol her own daughter in dance when she showed interest as a toddler. Like Smith, she sees stage makeup as part of the tradition, culture and values of dance – something she’s keen to pass on.
“What dance really teaches children is presentation, discipline and respect. You arrive 15 minutes early to stretch, your hair is in a bun, your uniform is neat, and when you go on stage, you wear winged liner. It’s a beautiful, diligent art form that pays homage to tradition.”
Not everyone views that tradition so romantically.
Lauren, a social worker, takes her three-year-old daughter to general dance classes at a studio that doesn’t enforce requirements around makeup, costumes or hair in class or on stage.
“The kids naturally dress up on their own,” she says. “They wear ballgowns and tutus, which I think is great. It allows them to express their individuality through movement.”
Lauren and her daughter visited more formal studios with strict presentation standards. Preparing for one class, they visited a dance shop to buy new clothes. “She picked this bright blue, very jazzy number,” Lauren says. “Then she was in ballet class with all these little ballerinas in standard uniform, and I thought, ‘I don’t want her to lose her sparkle, the thing that makes her different, or start worrying about what the other girls are wearing.’”
She doesn’t want her daughter to be overly disciplined, or to experience dance through that lens. “I want dance to be an expression of who she is.”
For Lauren, stage makeup works against that goal. “I know people wear makeup for lots of reasons, but the underlying message is often that you need to enhance yourself – to look a certain way – in order to fit in and play the part.”
“When we’re older, we can make those choices for ourselves. But when they’re three, the message I want my daughter to receive is that everything she’s doing is already enough – she doesn’t need to change how she looks to participate.”
Dance can be many things: a space for expression, joy, connection, discipline and tradition. Or it can be an early introduction to gendered beauty expectations that children may grapple with for years.
Watching my daughter twirl in front of the mirror, I wonder where she’ll land between those two experiences. But I’m not convinced the answer hinges on whether she wears fake eyelashes a few times a year.
I was lucky. Like Yahna and Amy, dance was a formative and affirming part of my life. That doesn’t mean my partner – or Lauren – are wrong to raise concerns. Ultimately, the issue extends beyond makeup to questions of control and agency: how we teach young people to see themselves, on and off the stage.
When the time comes to choose a dance studio, I don’t know whether makeup or hair requirements will influence my decision. What I hope for is a community where my daughter’s face and body feel like her own, where she’s never judged or pressured, and where the option to occasionally take part in stage traditions is genuinely hers.
If it helps her feel connected to centuries of history, or allows her to better inhabit a character, I’ll support it. Otherwise, I’ll be the first to step in with a wet wipe.
