Behind the glitterball: the dark side of professional dancing

What does it take to get to the top in the world of competitive ballroom and Latin dancing? In her recent interview on Desert Island Discs with Lauren Laverne, Shirley Ballas, the head judge of Strictly Come Dancing, repeated the necessity of being resilient and “bulletproof” as she detailed the gruelling schedules, restrictive diets, misogyny and bullying she experienced in the dance world. 

Since the release of Baz Luhrmann’s Strictly Ballroom in 1992, the competitive dance industry has become known – and often mocked – for its hot tempers, towering egos and tiny twinkly dresses. Strictly leans into some of the stereotypes with its celebration of big characters, buckets of fake tan and an abundance of sequins. But it’s also a world with a darker side in which – traditionally, at least – men lead and women follow, though, with the growth of same-sex dancing, that is, thankfully, changing. 

Many dancers will recognise the kinds of sacrifices Ballas made in her formative years: early mornings, late nights, hours spent travelling to and from lessons and little time for a life outside dancing. That said, her story is also exceptional: she is the only woman to win the British Open Professional Latin – the most famous and prestigious of championships, which takes place every year at Blackpool Dance Festival – with two different partners, her first husband, Sammy Stopford, in 1983, and her second, Corky Ballas, in 1995-1996. 

Of the thousands who might perform their first steps in dance schools, very few make it to that top level. The precise figure for how many people dance ballroom and Latin in the UK today is hard to confirm as there are different teaching associations. The umbrella organisation is the British Dance Council, which oversees competitive dancing rules in Britain; the equivalent for international competitions is the World Dance Council. In recent years, however, in part because of political schisms, other organisations such as the British DanceSport Association and the World Dance Organisation have been founded to offer their own competitions. 

“One of the biggest problems we face in this country is in the judging of ballroom competitions,” says Robin Windsor, a former competitor and professional dancer on Strictly. “It’s not a case of who crosses the finish line first. It’s based on opinion and it’s very, very political.” At a big ballroom dance competition, such as the British Open in Blackpool, the adjudicators, standing at the edges of the dance floor with their clipboards, might need to whittle down, round by round, 200 dancers to a final six. And, on the whole, there’s not much turnover in the finalists of the top championships.

“It doesn’t leave things open,” says Windsor. “You tend to know who the next world champion is going to be.” And he shares a rare example. “I know one famous dancer who was told that if he paid a certain amount of money, he could become a world champion in three or four years,” he continues. “It can be a very corrupt world.”

It can be tough for the adjudicators too – many of whom are decent and hard-working, as Ballas points out. They might have the length of a 90-second song to decide who goes through, leaving two or three seconds of attention for each dancing pair on the floor – if they’re lucky. In this system, dancers who are well known, because of previous success, are rewarded. Competitive couples who can afford it book lessons with the top coaches who will also, at some point, probably be adjudicating and are likely to look on familiar faces more favourably. 

On Desert Island Discs, Ballas recalls “immense bullying in the industry from men at the top… I was teaching the top couples in the world and then there were threats going to certain couples saying, ‘There’s nine of us and one of her – if you train with her, we’re going to make sure you don’t make it in the industry.’” 

Ballas hesitates to “name and shame” but arguably there’s a hint or two in her memoir, Behind the Sequins. “If you have an opinion, as a woman, it’s never really truly listened to,” she told Dancing Times in 2020. “Although we now have a new council called the World Dance Organisation [WDO] in addition to the World Dance Council. Let me just say, I find the WDO is much more open and listens to opinions, and they’re in it to make everything fair.”

The presidents of the British Dance Council, World Dance Council and British DanceSport Association, and the chairman of the WDO, are all former champions – and all men. An industry insider, who wished to remain anonymous, suggests that “these former competitors take their competitive mindset into the political world”. A champion dancer might not necessarily make a skilled coach, for instance, or a strong president of an association. 

In addition to the challenges of paying for the top coaches and navigating the politics, there is the cost of grooming and costumes. Aside from the make-up, hair, tanning and teeth whitening, “the biggest expense is dresses, as they can cost between £2,000 and £5,000,” says Viktoriya Wilton, who competes in American Smooth and is the director of Inspiration 2 Dance school in Piccadilly. “It’s expected for a professional to have a dress designed for their body, their character and their style.” 

And so to physique. “There is a certain standard that’s expected for a professional or elite performer,” says Wilton. “I’m lucky because I’m naturally slim, so I didn’t have to keep to a strict diet, though I still did. I’ve heard teachers commenting on other girls’ [weight] but, to be honest, on boys’ as well.”

Ballas detailed how her second husband, Corky, hid a cockroach in her doughnuts while she was pregnant and, on another occasion, how a coach told her that her postnatal body “made people feel physically sick”. While, on the whole, dancers report that today’s coaches speak to their students more respectfully, the pressure to keep weight down has endured. Plus, nowadays there’s Instagram to contend with, too. “If you go back 20 years to when I was competing, there was no social media,” Windsor recalls. “There was no YouTube, really very little internet. Everybody had their own flair. As time has gone on, everyone has become carbon copies of each other.

“I went to the International Championships recently and all the dancers are a size four or six... Teenage girls watching their idols might think that is how they have to look to be able to dance, when that is not the case. When I was on Strictly, my partner Lisa Riley proved that. You can be a size 12, 14 or 16 and still dance brilliantly. But I think if you were slightly on the heavier side, that might go against you as a dancer in a competition.” 

Despite the challenges in the industry, there is still a strong sense of camaraderie in the dance world and deep admiration for the competitors, who are devoted to their art. “It’s like football,” says Gerald Schwanzer, managing director of DSI London, the company that makes the dresses on Strictly. “At the end of the day, all fans are in the same religion, but they’re also fiercely competitive.” 

Passions run high, says Wilton. “You make friends, of course, because of what you have in common… On the other hand, there can be real backstabbing. I’ve fallen out with people in the dance world, and I’ve made great friends. It’s just a very passionate job – and dancers are emotional.”

She would like to see more respect in the way couples communicate. “The stuff that I’ve seen men do to women in rehearsals is absolutely disgusting,” agrees Windsor. “People screaming and shouting at each other. But, then again, I’ve also seen a girl slap their partner around the face and storm out. I guess it’s because there’s that competitiveness – everyone wants to be the best. But I do think there is a problem with toxic masculinity.” 

It’s an industry that’s having to reflect on safeguarding. Last month, former ballroom and Latin dance champion Richard Still pleaded guilty at Reading Crown Court to three counts of sexual activity with a child. Still, who owned a dance school and is a former safeguarding officer for the British Dance Council, admitted to asking a girl to send him images that were sexual or erotic in nature, in exchange for money paid into her bank account.

While those kinds of abuses of power are clearly unacceptable, there are specific challenges to teaching ballroom and Latin. As we all see on Strictly, if you’re a teacher, you have to touch the student. “There are ways and means of doing that without crossing a line,” says Windsor. “I feel that a lot needs to be looked into,” he continues, citing a bad personal experience as a youth dancer. “I don’t really know how it’s to be approached. But, for me, it’s an industry where people think they can get away with a lot more than they can – or should.”