Noelani Pantastico in David Dawson's Empire Noir. Angela Sterling, Courtesy PNB

"Dance Gave My Life Meaning Before I Knew I Needed Meaning in My Life"

Apparently, it all started at a pizza shop in New Hampshire. I was monkeying around, brimming with nervous energy. A stranger approached my mom and said, "You know, you really ought to put her in some dance classes."


I was born on Oahu to a Hawaiian-Filipino father and an Aussie mother. My late father would play the ukulele in his spare time, while I'd imitate whatever form of hula I could grasp at that point. He unknowingly taught me about rhythm and music, and is a big part of why I gravitated towards dance.

We moved every couple years across various states. I did whatever activities my mother could afford, trying out gymnastics or soccer. Being one of six kids, we mostly just had each other and lots of housework. I craved consistency and a place to feel rooted. I developed anxiety, literally pulling my hair out while obsessing over small things, which I suppose helped me feel like I had a sense of control. Looking back now, I see how lost I was.

Pantastico in Jerome Robbins' Opus 19/The Dreamer.

Angela Sterling, Courtesy PNB

Then at 11, I started attending the renowned Central Pennsylvania Youth Ballet. Nothing had come close to how dancing made me feel. The late director Marcia Dale Weary gave me structure and positive reinforcement, with goals to be better. She made me see and hear beauty daily, things that I hadn't felt consistently since my Hawaii days. Dance gave my life meaning before I knew I needed meaning in my life.

Dance has always made difficult times more bearable—without question, saving my life. I have several years left before I hang up my shoes, but now I'm finding other ways to contribute to the art form. I formed Seattle Dance Collective with James Moore to create opportunities for artists to come together. I have a bucket list of choreographers I'd like to work with (or work with again), and if my own list doesn't get fulfilled, then at least I can provide these powerful encounters for others.

Pantastico and Seth Orza in George Balanchine's Stravinsky Violin Concerto.

Angela Sterling, Courtesy PNB

We need art in our lives to survive. It's something primal. I see it when people listen to music or look at paintings. When people are being creative. When people dance. I feel very lucky to give back to an art form that has shaped my existence so beautifully.

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Yes, It *Is* Possible to Build Body Confidence As a Dancer. Here Are 6 Tips

It's true. Everyone's looking at your body. In performance, it's your instrument—which can do amazing and sometimes superhuman things. In an audition, it's really the only information that hiring directors and choreographers have about you. Then there are the hours of class you spend scrutinizing yourself and what your body is capable of in the mirror.

This constant focus can make it challenging to develop body confidence, says Dr. Toby Diamond, consulting psychologist for the Pacific Northwest Ballet School. "It's never easy, especially when you consider that we also value facility, like excellent turnout and perfect feet, beyond beauty, and both can be out of your control."

So how can you become resilient enough to accept all the judgment that comes with a dance career?

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