All images courtesy of author.
This story is part of RICE Media’s Storytellers initiative, a mentorship programme for budding content creators to learn about the art of creative non-fiction. This piece is a product of a partnership between RICE Media and Singapore Management University (SMU) for its Professional Writing module.
As someone who grew up in Moscow, ballet was entrenched in the cultural fabric of my life. While ballet has its roots in Italy and France, it has become deeply entwined with Russia’s identity, known for both its strict training regimens and its world-renowned dancers.
At the age of three, I began my own ballet journey. Like many other girls, I was enchanted by the pastel colours, fluffy tutus, and graceful movements that seemed to transport me into a magical world. I dreamt of one day performing at the Bolshoi Theatre, dancing in The Nutcracker.
Those dreams were cut short. My mother, concerned about the long-term health consequences of ballet’s intense physical demands, pulled me from classes. Yet, my love for ballet persisted, even as I moved halfway across the world.
In 2021, I relocated to Singapore for my studies, expecting to encounter a different ballet scene. The sunny, snowless tropics would surely reshape the magic of The Nutcracker, I thought. The difference I saw, however, had nothing to do with the climate.
I quickly learned that The Nutcracker in Singapore didn’t feel distinctly Singaporean. The artistic team of the Singapore Ballet comprises dancers from Japan, Australia, Taiwan, China, and the UK. Out of 38 dancers, only nine were born in Singapore. Moreover, all Singaporean dancers have trained under foreign ballet masters or studied abroad.
This isn’t a critique of the prevalence of foreign talent in the local scene—their talent and dedication are undeniable. But it raises a question: Why, despite the constant number of young girls in Singapore attending ballet classes, do we hear so little about homegrown Singaporean ballet stars?
Dancing On My Own
“It can be quite a lonely journey, and you really need to hold on to that passion, and sometimes that passion does not give back as much as you give it,” says Yvonne Ow, a former Singaporean ballerina.
Yvonne began her formal ballet training in the 1980s at age 15—an unconventional start by today’s standards. “I always loved dance, but my parents didn’t encourage it,” she recalls.
“I searched up my own classes and convinced them to pay. But I did everything on my own. They were not ‘dance parents’, forcing [me] to dance; they were pretty much the opposite.”
During her teen years, Yvonne trained rigorously under the Dance Arts studio’s scholarship, enduring late-night classes.
“Instead of going out or relaxing, I was dancing until 10 PM. This is after a full day of school or on weekends, but it was something that I was passionate about, so I made time for that. Maybe right now there is more emphasis on enjoying it, but at that time, it was about doing it and doing it well.”
After her ‘A’ Levels, she actively considered a degree in dance, but her parents discouraged it. “They were like ‘If you do dance, we will disown you’,” she says, laughing.
Her dream to pursue a career in ballet naturally faded away. As she entered her twenties, her diplomatic career took precedence. She travelled frequently for work, and ballet became increasingly impractical.
Things could have turned out differently for Yvonne had she stayed on the path. I ask Yvonne why her parents were not supportive of her dream.
“Because arts education was not considered a stable form of income. Maybe even more so back then than it is now. I think now, if my daughter was to tell me she wants to do arts, and if she is good at it, maybe I would allow it. But during my time, [the only option] was either a doctor or a lawyer.”
I couldn’t help but wonder if the social sentiment and overall attitude towards ballet have shifted among Singaporean parents.
Pirouetting Perceptions
Evelyn Kow has an 11-year-old daughter, Rei, who has been dancing ballet since the age of two. I ask if she’d be willing to go all the way if her daughter wants to pursue ballet as a career.
“I will approve, provided that it is what [Rei] really wants. She needs to be aware that it is competitive, and she has to be mindful that she may not be successful. However, I will still support her all the way if it is what she wants.”
Evelyn’s approach signals a shift in parental attitudes, which are more open-minded than the traditional view Yvonne experienced. Yet, one has to question whether loading a Primary 5 child with such pressure still echoes a familiar, if modern, parental convention in Singapore.
After all, Rei’s schedule is packed: school five days a week, ballet on Sundays, gymnastics on Saturdays, art enrichment, and tuition. But Evelyn isn’t worried about her daughter’s ability to balance her studies and activities.
“It boils down to how [Rei’s] life can be structured to balance her responsibilities well. I think it is good to learn how to juggle all her activities,” she says. Rei is free to quit any activity she no longer enjoys, Evelyn assures, and she has done so before for drumming lessons.
“I’m happy to be able to provide the opportunities that I didn’t get to have when I was her age.”
However, this shift alone may not be enough for Singapore to produce prominent dancers. Elena Kanevskaia, a former ballet instructor at Nanyang Academy of Fine Arts and founder of the School of Russian Ballet in Singapore, sheds light on the broader picture.
“While more ballet schools are opening and competitions are growing, most parents [in Singapore] view arts as a secondary activity, merely part of an enrichment program. Parents here aim to provide children with a more secure future instead.”
She adds that ballet’s reputation as a low-paying profession makes it difficult to attract financial backing or wide-scale support.
“Singapore still remains highly commercial, with high-earning professions continuing to prevail. Art, naturally, does not bring in a lot of money.”
Still, Elena is optimistic. Elena tells me about Daena, an 11-year-old student who has shown great promise. Daena’s mother, a ballet student herself, supports her daughter’s training with three weekly sessions.
Yet, Daena remains uncertain about pursuing ballet professionally. She started attending ballet classes as her mum does so as well, but Daena does not dream of becoming a professional ballet dancer just yet.
“My mum said it is really hard for professional dancers to find a ballet company in Singapore; I am just doing ballet as a hobby,” she remarks, preparing for her class with the help of a foot stretcher.
“But I think I will continue doing it as I grow older. I am not sure yet what I want to do when I grow up. My parents think I will be a good doctor.”
Nonetheless, Daena believes her parents will support her in case she chooses to pursue ballet as her career.
Art in a Commercial Society
Both Yvonne and Elena pointed out that ballet, like many art forms, struggles to thrive in a society that prioritises financially rewarding careers.
“In Singapore, success is still very old-fashionably defined by grades, something that you can quantify. But for things like art, a beautiful piece of music, or an exceptional performance, how do you quantify that? Something that brings joy to you—you can’t put a quantitative amount to it,” Yvonne offers.
The most challenging issue to address is the overall cultural climate in Singapore. Yvonne cites the example of her brother, who isn’t interested in the arts, passing on the same attitude to his kids now as a parent.
Elena advocates for greater state support to support the growth of ballet in Singapore.
“Any art form develops with the support of official government funding. As you know, art does not generate much revenue, except for cases like K-pop. But if it is not K-pop, there must be financial backing,” she affirms.
“Singapore would benefit greatly from a government program that provides financial support for cultural development and the arts—a well-structured initiative designed to nurture and facilitate the growth of the arts across the country.”
Although the National Arts Council does provide grants to develop the arts, many in the ballet community, including former Singaporean ballerina Cecilia Hon, believe more direct government intervention is needed. In an interview with The Straits Times, she says that the government should “step in” by arranging free concerts to attract more audience to ballet as regular citizens cannot afford the tickets now.
Changement
The ballet scene in Singapore is evolving, but there are still significant challenges to overcome.
Despite the positive changes in parental attitudes and the growing number of schools and opportunities, ballet remains a secondary pursuit for many. It is not yet viewed as a realistic career option, and without further investment, both culturally and financially, it may struggle to thrive.
Exposure helps. Events at open venues like Gardens by the Bay, or even in malls, could offer the public a more accessible, free-paced introduction to ballet, making it easier to engage with what might otherwise be seen as a lengthy or formal form of entertainment.
Beneath it all lies the need for a deeper ideological shift in how Singaporeans define success—one that transcends binaries and tangible measures. Success must be reimagined as a balance of achievement and fulfilment, embracing pursuits that nurture creativity and the human spirit.
“It is impossible to focus solely on commerce; one must do something for the soul as well,” Yvonne says.
