I've been debating with myself about whether or not to respond to this. Obviously, I've decided to respond.but it always seemed sad, because they were not concerned with dancing, they were concerned with the money and power it could give them.
I love dancing. Always have. I love teaching, too, but truthfully even though I love my students, I would not get up an hour after leaving my day job and slog out into the snow every Wednesday evening to teach if I wasn't getting paid very well for it . It's my job. I expect to be paid for my expertise, such as it is. The money is important.
One of the first times I danced in public for a largely male audience, I looked at the crowd and realized that any one of those men would give me anything I wanted in return for an hour of my time. It was the first time in my life I had any sense of power over anything or anybody and it was an amazing feeling. I was smart enough to realize that the way I kept my power was to never grant that hour of my time, but after that, I was always aware of it. I liked it. It was definitely part of the allure of dancing in public along with getting paid for something I was very good at.
So there we have it: I was not dancing for the sheer joy of it. I still don't teach for the sheer joy of it. Performance and teaching are jobs- fairly unusual jobs and more pleasurable jobs than many, but still jobs. Sometimes I enjoyed performing; sometimes all I wanted to do was stay home with my cats and not put on makeup or those damned uncomfortable costumes.
Being able to dance only for the love of music and movement is a privilege that not everyone shares. Be kind in your thoughts toward those who can't afford that privilege.