11/04/2026
I love this. It’s so true!
Things Non-Dancers Ask
(A gentle guide to ballroom myths — written with love)
There are two worlds.
The first is the glittered, televised universe most people know from Strictly Come Dancing — dresses made just for one dance, teams of stylists, theme weeks, and weekly eliminations that set internet chat rooms on fire. I’ve never quite understood how someone can get so furious they take to their phone from the comfort of their sofa to slag off a presenter from The One Show for not smiling enough, but apparently this is part of the experience.
Honestly? I’d love a themed competition.
“Tonight, Michael, I’m going to dance as Rapunzel from Tangled — don’t step on my hair now.”
Though, realistically, a ballroom competition would last 16 days if everyone got their own little themed piece.
And then there’s us.
Real ballroom is driving home at 11pm, your partner snoozing in the passenger seat while you frantically refresh the results page to check your marks.
Somewhere between those two worlds live the questions that make ballroom dancers pause… blink slowly… and smile politely.
“So… is it like Strictly?”
Short answer: no.
Longer answer: also no — but we appreciate the enthusiasm.
We don’t get 30 hours a week focused on one dance. There are no props, no dramatic reveal music, and judges definitely don’t hold up flashy paddles. They stare at you from behind iPads with expressions so neutral you’d think emotion had been banned.
And “organised chaos” would offend the organisers — competitions are run with military precision in satin shoes.
Comparing competitive ballroom to Strictly is a bit like comparing Olympic sprinting to an egg-and-spoon race at a school sports day. Both involve movement, costumes, and passion — but they’re entirely different beasts.
Most competitive ballroom dancers are strictly ballroom. Different styles, different rules. If Michael picked me up and threw me around his head, we’d be ousted immediately.
“Do you win money?”
I wish.
No — we lose money. Usually thousands of pounds a year, cheerfully and repeatedly, all in pursuit of a passion that makes absolutely no financial sense.
Lessons, travel, competition entries, shoes, costumes, repairs, more lessons… ballroom is less a hobby and more a beautifully expensive lifestyle choice.
If anyone’s profiting, it’s probably the person selling rhinestones.
“But surely you know all the steps by now?”
No dancer on Earth has ever been told, “That’s it — you’re perfect, no more lessons needed.”
We keep learning forever. Better timing. Better connection. Better posture. Better everything.
The more you dance, the more you realise how much there is still to learn — which is either inspiring or mildly terrifying depending on the week.
“Aren’t ballroom dancers a bit… posh?”
Not really.
We’re just normal humans who happen to dress posh and snobby for a few hours at a time. Underneath the glam, we’re the same people losing hairpins in car parks and wondering why our feet hurt again.
“Isn’t it just walking around in a circle?”
If only.
Ballroom is trying to look effortless while your brain counts beats, avoids collisions, remembers choreography, and maintains something called “frame” that sounds easy but absolutely isn’t.
It’s athletic. It’s technical. It’s emotional.
And yes — sometimes it does involve going in circles. Just very purposefully. Like Toy Story’s Buzz Lightyear said… it’s falling with style.
The truth behind the questions
Most people asking these things aren’t being rude — they’re curious. TV dance is the reference point they have.
So we explain. We laugh. We blink slowly.
Because beneath the myths, ballroom isn’t mysterious at all — it’s just ordinary people doing something they love very, very seriously… while wearing an unreasonable amount of Lycra.
And maybe that’s why we keep answering these questions with a smile. Ballroom looks strange from the outside — all rules and sparkle and people moving in mysterious circles — but on the inside it’s just humans trying their best at something difficult because they love it. We’re not perfect, we’re not famous, and most of us are still figuring things out one dance at a time. But for a few minutes on a floor, with the music going and your partner beside you, everything makes sense. And that’s really what people are seeing — not just dancing, but joy that’s been practised over and over until it looks effortless.
