Authenticity

Just got back from a ballet, produced by the dance school my daughters attend. The performance is always first-rate and of course it’s a treat to see my kids looking so poised and lovely, but this year it wasn’t the same. My favorite dancer graduated from high school last year and a tiny bit of the life went out of it as a result.

Carmen was essentially a train wreck as a dancer. A little too stocky, a little too busty. She usually looked as though she’d wandered onto the stage by accident, mouthed the choreography to herself as she danced, occasionally bumped into her fellow dancers (and apologized profusely for it), and once, actually stopped and rolled her eyes before gamely picking up where she left off. She had gorgeous brown eyes and a dazzling, over-sized smile, and her curly, curly hair was so vibrant that she scattered hair pins with every pirouette – and I watched in fascination as her bun came completely undone in the middle of a Tarantella. Props in her hands were shredded or lost before the number was over, and heaven forbid her costume included any kind of headpiece: it was usually obscuring her vision a moment or two after the music started.

I adored Carmen, and according to my daughters, everyone at the school thought she was the nicest person they ever met. When she was focused, her dancing conveyed pure joy, and I was just . . . . happier . . . . each time she was on stage. I’d scan the program, looking for her name, and get a little giddy when she was due on stage.

Years of attending dance recitals will teach you a few things. First and foremost, stage presence is a rare commodity. Carmen had stage presence in spades. Whether she was in danger of knocking someone over or whether she was conveying pure emotion with one gesture of her hand, you couldn’t take your eyes off her. Second, authenticity is even more rare than stage presence. It requires so much bravery and character to shine authentically through the perfectly made-up face, the perfectly gelled and styled bun, and the exhaustively rehearsed dance combinations that not many young girls can manage it. Carmen did – no one was more authentic on that stage than she was, and that’s what made her riveting.

Carmen showed me the value of authenticity. Being what you authentically are gives people a reason to respond to you, root for you, connect with you. And in a cookie-cutter workplace, it shows you have both the bravery and courage to shine.