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Thinking Out Loud: A Father's Love
By Tony Bougiouris
A parent's approval is probably one of the most natural
things for a child to want. But when your dad comes from
a reserved, military-minded Greek family, and when your
chosen path in life is dance, that approval doesn't come
easily. An immigrant who has worked hard to create a
better life for himself and his family, my dad had a lot
of trouble with my choice of a profession.
When I was a baby, my mother swears, I would stop crying
only when my sister tap-danced on our wooden toy box. So
when I was 4, noticing my longing looks at my sister and
my extreme energy levels, my mother enrolled me in dance
lessons. My father didn't think too much of it. Nothing
really seemed to affect him, and that included my
decision to start dancing.
I loved going to dance classes and soon began competing.
When I won my first title, Master Dance of New England,
my father became surprisingly supportive. Competitive
dance can be a financial strain, and it was for us. So
my father began fundraising so that I could go to
nationals. This sudden outburst of support made me
uncomfortable. I wasn't used to it, and having to ask
people for financial help heightened my feelings of
unease.
As the years passed, though, my dad's support waned and
the change confused me. Was I not good enough anymore?
Did he not care? Did I do something wrong?
Those questions fueled my desire to prove myself to my
father. If I was motivated enough and tried harder, I
would get his attention and support back, no? No.
Culturally speaking, my father also practices "tough
love"--you have to earn it. But nothing I did seemed good
enough to earn that love and approval. I could have
jumped to the moon and back only to receive one-word
affirmations. I'd think, "I did all of that and all you
can say is "Good"? What is it going to take to get a
warm response from you?" It killed me to have him so
emotionally distant and uninterested. All I wanted was
for him to say that he loved me and that I had done
well. I felt inadequate, as if something were wrong with
me.
Still, my desire for his approval had a positive effect
on me as well. It cultivated a work ethic of never
settling for less than my best, which I feel is a
prerequisite for this profession.
Things didn't get any better when, at age 16, I made the
decision to dance professionally. My parents feared that
I was acting too quickly and without much thought. Up
until then, my dad had thought that dancing was only a
pastime; his view of the dance profession as unstable
and monetarily unrewarding didn't mesh with his lifelong
goal of creating a better life for his family in the
United States. But my desire to dance was stronger than
my need to please my father. I auditioned for Juilliard,
got in, and left.
My dad did not attend any of my performances during my
four years of college, which drove home my feeling of
inadequacy. But when I landed a job with Les Grands
Ballets Canadiens de Montreal, he was forced to
reconsider his initial concerns. He did something he
never does--he went to the company's website and did some
research. When I came home for the holidays he began
talking to me about one of the choreographers, and I was
shocked by his interest.
I believe the fact that I had found a stable job changed
his perception of my career, but it wasn't until I had
been in the company for two years that he said, "I don't
worry about you because I know you will be OK." I know
that was hard for him to say, and although I appreciated
the sudden affirmation, it also made me feel
uncomfortable. Nonetheless, it was progress. He has
since come to some of my performances.
My story doesn't fit the clich� of a father's reluctance
to accept his son's dancing in a culture in which sports
are revered or because of social stigmas. Although I
would love to have a father who supported me fully and
was not afraid to show his love, those were not the
cards that I was dealt. We respect each other's
strengths and try not to focus on our weaknesses.
Acceptance and progress come in spurts, but it's
progress nonetheless.
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