Returning to Dance after Top Surgery (New Dance Videos!)
CW: mental health crisis, dysphoria, transphobia, surgery
-I Quit-
Most people don’t know this, but I kind of stopped dancing in 2022.
Prior to that, I was sustaining myself on my dance teaching and healing movement practice. I was just barely making enough to get by, but suddenly I found myself needing to pay double rent or move out, yet again. I was tired of moving. I wanted reliable income and health insurance. So I got a corporate job. I promised myself that I wouldn’t give up on my art, and use the financial support to be creative, which I did. But something around dance shifted. I no longer had the bandwidth to do it.
I used to regularly book practice space at a nearby ballet studio to move and record, but I stopped doing that.
I used to go to dance classes and intensives, but I stopped doing that.
I used to take dance classes at home and freestyle to new music, but I stopped doing that too.
I was doing “the responsible thing” under capitalism but I wasn’t dancing anymore.
In truth, there’s one other layer to why I wasn’t dancing and that was: mental health. At this point, I was already disowned and estranged from my bio dad for being gay. I was recovering post-mental breakdown, still struggling daily with the impacts of C-PTSD, anxiety, depression, dysphoria, chronic neck pain, chronic fatigue, and suspected (but not yet diagnosed or supported) autism. I was out as trans-masc and non-binary and using he/they pronouns, but up until that point I hadn’t done anything to medically affirm my expression.
That changed in 2024. I was in and out of intense emotional spirals on a daily to weekly basis. Between the spirals: depression, self-doubt, feeling stuck, anxiety about why I needed to do about it.
My lowest point was my mental breakdown. But where I was in 2024 was a real close second. I felt unbelievably stuck, like my life force was drained and I couldn’t even summon the energy to care about the things that once brought be so much joy and expression. I quietly withdrew from life.
The dysphoria and depression and family trauma were looping what felt like constantly. Looking at my face in the mirror was activating. Noticing my chest, activating. Seeing my body, activating. Out of all the things I was feeling, the self-hating and fully disorienting feelings of dysphoria were the loudest, because I’m never not with my body. With a lot of encouragement from my partner at the time (who was also trans and nb), I decided to take the leap and try micro-dosing testosterone gel.
I was initially reluctant and doubtful that T would help me feel better. Maybe I was just stuck like this forever. What if it didn’t help? What if I felt worse? I wasn’t trying to “transition to a man” and wasn’t sure if hormones were even for me. My partner reminded me that that was the dysphoria talking. So I talked to my doctor and then the psych to start T.
-The Trans-formation-
The literal first dose I took cleared the ever present fog of depression that had been hanging over me for what felt like my whole life. “This is what it’s like to not feel depressed?” I wondered. It was nice. I felt nice. So I kept exploring.
Bolstered by the relief that came from listening to my body, I decided I wanted top surgery next. Those doubts were still there—what if it doesn’t help? what if I don’t like how I look still? what if nothing will help?—but I was feeling incrementally better emotionally because of the T, which helped counteract those thoughts.
The process was tedious and transphobic, but I got through another psych interview and declared “yes I am in a sound state of mind and I do want my titties removed.” I got mis-pronouned ON THE DAY OF MY SURGERY before going in and immediately upon regaining consciousness, which triggered a panic attack while they were pushing heavy duty pain meds into my IV. It was terrible.
I was falling in and out of time on the drive home. I looked like death. I was counting my breaths, in and out, to keep the nausea from overtaking me. But once I got home and laid on my bed, I felt a relief and a peace that I have never experienced. My chest was flat. My titties were gone. This is how I felt now.
After 12 weeks of recovery, with SO much help from my chosen family, friends and community, I was cleared to work out again. I used medical leave for my job, so I was also riding the high of not having to work my day job for almost 3 months. I felt like a new person. I was relearning how to walk and where my center of gravity was. I was still very cautious and tentative about moving my arms or touching my chest, but I had an interest in dance again.
-Returning to Dance-
At the beginning of 2024, I signed up for a beginner pole class at a local pole studio. I’d been there before, and it was very “lady-centric”, but I at least knew what I was walking into, and frankly I didn’t care as much about being inevitably misgendered because I felt good in my body. I wanted to dance, and that feeling felt important to me.
I kept dancing through 2025, once a week at the pole studio. It felt so good to be back. I got to explore my new body and how it moved. One of the very surprising (to me) side effects of top surgery was that all of a sudden I wanted to have long hair and dress more femme. I didn’t know where it would lead me, but I kept dancing because it was something fun I could do with myself every week.
I love my pole teacher and learning her choreography, but it’s important to note that even though I returned to dance for pole, I didn’t resume my own freestyle or non-pole practice. That part still felt stuck inside my body. I didn’t want to do it. But I was intentionally putting more effort, practice and focus into dancing again.
Flash forward to end of September, 2026 (this year).
A promo email for a dance intensive with Galen Hooks comes up in my inbox. I had taken her intensive twice before and got a lot out of each experience. A little part of me wanted to do it, but I saw the price tag and said “Oh that’s too much, we’re trying to save money right now.” However, my lovely and amazing wife reminded me that if the tables were turned, I’d be encouraging her to do whatever it took to support her doing what she loves. I asked her to help me sign up for the intensive—I tried and tried and couldn’t bring myself to hit “OK”. I had so much imposter syndrome about going, but I was going.
I could write a whole post about the experience of going to the intensive alone, but I’ll abbreviate it by saying I had an incredible time. I felt both held and centered within an inter-generational group of 12 dancers. At the beginning of the intensive, I shared that this was my first time dancing (without a pole) since gender affirming surgery. By the end, I had experienced euphoria from seeing my reflection in the mirror while dancing and re-connected with this vital part of my emotional and creative expression.
I’d been gone for what feels like a long time, but this is a reminder that you can come back to dance after any time.
I move different now, but I like how I move. No one else can move like me, just like no one else can move just like you.
For me, being a dancer means showing how I move, authentically, and with all my pain and joy and experience and history along with it. If you’d like to see what that looks like for me now, I posted two videos from the intensive at the link below. I hope you enjoy!
