Why Ballet? How This Art Form Changed My Life

“Ballerina. Ballet. Swan Lake. Prima ballerina. Pointe shoes. Pink. Flexible. Beauty. Unattainable.”
These are often the words that come to mind when we think of ballet. And yes, ballet can seem distant, intimidating, even exclusive. But why ballet? I mean… out of all the choices in the world, why would someone decide they want to be a ballerina?

A good question. And today, as a grown woman, I can only feel deep gratitude for choosing this path , or rather, for ballet choosing me. Falling in love with this art form, believing in it, and dedicating myself to it, no matter how strict or inaccessible it once felt, it has shaped my life.

It all started when I was around 11. A shy kid to say the least. My best friends were books novels like Le Monde de Sophie or history epics. I was very disciplined at school. At first, I even wanted to be a judge (funny, right?) because I couldn’t stand injustice. But the truth is: I was a dreamer. My imagination was vivid, always present. Films were my escape, storytelling my secret world. The idea of working in an office? Absolutely not for me.

Then one day, during a wedding rehearsal dinner, I met a girl who told me she danced on pointe. I was clueless “Pointe? What’s that?” She showed me, and I was captivated. I turned to my mum, or was it my dad? and said, “I want to try ballet.”

To my surprise, a ballet teacher happened to be there that very evening and said, “Well, you can come to the studio and see for yourself.”
Which I did. She became my ballet teacher for many years and the person who saw something in me first and encouraged me to leave the city for a bigger ballet school. I owe her everything, Dominique Thouroude.

I remember watching the girls move with such grace, searching for perfection to the sound of a piano. Their leotards, the whole atmosphere, I was instantly enchanted. Shortly after, I got myself a blue leotard (I still have it), some demi-pointes, and stood at the barre in the corner. The teacher watched me closely. I did a demi-plié and boom. That was it. Love at first sight. Or as we say in French, un coup de foudre.

First time performing on stage in Toulouse (here with my blue leotard, first I ever owned)

From that day on, I wanted to be at the barre all the time. And I was. These legs have danced through many barres, in many cities, languages, and countries, from Marseille, where I trained at the Conservatoire, to Béjart Ballet, to Madrid, to Germany…

But this isn’t a post about my career path. It’s about what ballet gave me.
And how it transformed me.

At 11, you don’t really know who you are or what you want from life. You mostly follow what your parents say. You go to school, and maybe fall in love with the boy who doesn’t notice you.
I was the kind of kid who spent hours reading Harry Potter or The Lord of the Rings. Not the "coolest."

But then ballet entered my life.
And something extraordinary happened.

I discovered I had a body and that this body could do incredible things. I realized I had emotions and stories inside me that I could express, through movement, through music. Ballet is hard, yes. The technique seems impossible. But like learning piano, you begin with small scales before playing full chords. I found pleasure in the pain. The discipline of perfecting each step, connecting it to music, that was my version of freedom.

At Rudra Béjart School

And that’s something I learned very early:
Freedom is discipline.

I was obsessed. Missing a single pirouette would make me silent the whole ride home. My mum would ask, “What happened in there?” and I’d whisper, “I just missed a pirouette.” Then I’d go back the next day with one goal: to get it right.

That’s when ballet gave me another life-changing gift:
Perseverance.

Nothing comes fast. It takes years to perfect a step. It’s a slow kind of love, but the most rewarding one.

And then came my first performance on stage.
If I could describe that feeling… it was transcendent.
I wasn’t Eva anymore. I was something celestial.
It felt like I could touch the sky.
There’s no other feeling like it.

Ballet also gave me something else: confidence.
Not the kind you gain by comparing yourself to others, but the kind that comes from mastering your own instrument : yourself.
Your only competition is you.

I had to learn efficiency, how to care for my body. Yes, I went through anorexia. I thought being thin enough would get me into the Paris Opera Ballet. Sadly, many young dancers experience this. The ballerina body ideal can create serious dysmorphia and eating disorders.

Luckily, today we have access to so much information, about performance, nutrition, and health. And so I learned to treat my body as an instrument.

I stretched to prevent injuries, learned to fuel myself with the right foods, gave my body rest, and diversified my training with yoga, Pilates, and even biking. For example, I realized that dairy gave me tendinitis, so I had to find other calcium sources. I had knee issues and had to build strength in that area.

I became my own body detective.
And ballet gave me that too; the drive to go deeper.
To not accept “that’s just how it is.”

And above all else, ballet taught me to never take no for an answer.
To always keep asking, keep trying, keep dancing.

And today, even as I continue to evolve, I carry ballet with me. The lessons it taught me, about discipline, creativity, resilience, remain at the core of who I am.

I’m still learning what makes me unique.
But I know one thing for sure:
Being is enough.

Art, Peace & Love
Eva 🩰

Stay tuned for the next blog.