This is a story I wrote about my aunt, Ann Etgen-Atkinson.  I remember so clearly the day I saw her ugly ballerina feet.  I was young and had no idea that dancing en pointe in those beautiful shoes actually damages a ballerina's feet. 

TURNING POINTE by Sara Etgen-Baker

“Point your feet!  Rotate!  Don’t stick your butts out!  Stay out of your heels.”  I looked up from where I was sitting.    There was no music—only the thump-thud sound of the dancers en pointe and the ballet master shouting.  “Dance to the tips of your fingers and toes!  Plié!  Spot!” 

Ann obeyed; sweat ran down her face.  “Tours chaînés déboulés,” he barked.  She struggled as her sleek muscles quivered with exhaustion.  I’d never seen my aunt rehearsing.  So, the contrast between seeing her stage performance—where she glided effortlessly on the tips of her pointe shoes—and seeing her studio rehearsal baffled me. 

 “Rond de Jambe en l’air and Frappé.”  The master paused; the dancers gathered at the barre.  “Fifth position, preparation sur le cou de pied.  Single frappe en croix each position getting two counts.”  He strolled around the dance studio. 

 “Close Fifth position front.”  Ann panted for breath.  “Single rond de jambe en l’air en dehors twice at 45°.”  Her corded tendons stood out like insulated cable.  “…Now close to sous-sus front.”

But when the curtain rose later that winter evening, there stood my aunt—her feathery light body rose en pointe spinning like the wind across Swan Lake.  Her tutu fluttered like the wings of a bird at dawn.  Each pirouette and leap mesmerized me as her body told the story of Odette, the Swan Queen, and her love for Prince Siegfried.

Backstage afterwards, I cringed when Ann removed her pointe shoes revealing calluses, misshapen toes, black nails and reddish-purple flesh.  The contrast between her beautiful pointe shoes and her battered, ugly feet startled me.  Ann noticed my reaction and handed me her pointe shoes.  “Take these.  Remember life, like dance, is a beautiful art form.  It’s hard work.  It’s painful.  It’s ugly.  You sweat.  You fail.  You succeed.  You try again.  You push.  You fight.  But always remain graceful.”

My aunt’s gift that winter were not her pointe shoes; rather it was her words that served as a turning pointe when I learned that life, like ballet, is a battle between beauty and pain.