It’s totally dark except for the glow from the stage. My hands become shaky and breath unsteady as we form a circle. Our hair has so much gel that it’s rock-hard to touch. As dance team captain, I repeat our motto, “Believe you can and you will.” Then I clear my mind and stare at a blank wall because if I think too much about our routine, or the way my shoes slip on the floor, or everyone out there watching us, I’ll panic and perform poorly.
The curtain rises. “All the way from North Carolina,” the announcer intones, “please welcome Queens University of Charlotte.”
Our coaches and choreographer shout, “Let’s kill it!”
We stride into position for our first number. It’s in a style called pom, a mixture of cheerleading, jazz and acrobatics, performed to Britney Spears’ “Toxic” and Usher’s “Yeah!”
It’s our moment, like the inspiring conclusion of Hollywood hits like “Bring It On” or “Pitch Perfect.”
But our journey to the 2023 College Classic national dance competition on April 7-8 in Orlando, Florida, was anything but pitch perfect.
COVID shuts us down
In August 2019, the original eight dancers started our very first season as a dance team with a flourish, performing at almost every school function and sporting event that fall and winter. In March 2020, we had just spent weeks preparing for a halftime show with the NBA Charlotte Hornets and traveling with the Queens University men’s basketball team for its championship game.
Then our hopes came crashing down when COVID-19 shut down the world.
Months and months went by with little or no dance. We downloaded an app allowing our fitness trainer to post at-home workouts, but it wasn’t the same. Without the ability to physically come together, motivation was overtaken by depression. Trouble adjusting to online learning made many of us fall behind. We worried about not being allowed to perform if we were placed on academic probation.Ranting and crying
“We collectively handled hardship by leaning on each other a lot. We were always there for a rant session or a cry session,” recalls teammate Jenna Plaisted. Two dancers hosted a youth camp to raise money for the team, but only three kids showed up. A glimpse of hope came in October 2020 as we prepared for an outdoor performance, but it was canceled because of inclement weather.
In January 2021, the squad was finally allowed to come back with hybrid classes, and all teams were required to take a COVID test. Jenna and I had to quarantine for the first 10 and most crucial practices of the season. I spent the next two weeks of practice through a laptop screen, connected to the team in my apartment bedroom.
While we performed for the majority of the basketball season, we were required to wear masks. On top of lost stamina due to so much time off, I couldn't catch my breath with a mask.
No Fans, little space
We could only perform in the stands, and the stands had no fans. We smiled under our masks, but lacked the energy we usually feed on. We dumbed down our routines because we each had only a 2-by-2-foot space to perform between seats, plus the risks of doing kicking routines on steep stairs.
To our surprise, late in our fall 2021 semester, coach Katina Cole announced we had been approved to perform in the College Classic in April 2022. The problem: We were not able to learn even one of our three competition routines until mid-January. Most college teams start learning their routines in August and finish them no later than October.
Despite the obstacles, we took home three trophies we thought we’d never earn as a new program, giving us hope for the 2023 competition.
Finally, the Nationals
The College Classic is like no other competition, filled with complex tricks and fast-paced choreography. Teams with a small number of dancers on the floor and no tricks will never place very high. We were at a disadvantage with nine dancers — some competitors had 20 or more — but we felt we could hold our own with tricks.
To place in the top three, aerials (a no-handed cartwheel) and headsprings are necessities.
Many teams have added complexity to these tricks by landing them in more challenging ways. For example, a normal headspring lands in a squat position. To keep pace with competitors, I headspringed with my legs straight out, my hands reaching toward my feet and my hips on the ground. That takes much more force to land on your heels and glutes and not smash into the floor on your behind. This gives the illusion of flipping into a seated position.
Unlike performing at athletic events — with flashy moves designed to entertain, with little worry about dancers being perfectly in sync — every movement matters in competition. If we have our arms out and one person's arm placement is even an inch higher than the next dancer, points are deducted.
Practicing on muddy fields
To prepare for this year’s national competition, we practiced up to four hours a day, six days a week from January until the competition in April. Sometimes, practice room scheduling conflicts forced us to practice in muddy fields outside, battling the loss of daylight and avoiding holes in the ground. Practicing headsprings was out.
When we arrived in Orlando, the practice facilities at Orange County Convention Center were much better. The pace was even more intense. After practicing three and a half hours in the morning the day before competition started, we were given precisely 30 minutes of “mat time” to perform our routines on the same mat where we would compete. No exceptions. Then our choreographer Alexis Abu arrived for additional practice and routine changes, totaling seven hours of practice that day.
At 8 a.m. the first day of the two-day competition, we’d already been up for hours perfecting our sleek hair “buns” and heavy stage makeup. Opening-day jitters made it difficult to execute perfect routines, but that’s why it’s a two-day affair. Every team receives a video of each of their routines with detailed, suggested corrections from each of the five judges. We took these corrections into account, then took the evening to practice and add difficulty where we could to improve our score. We practiced for six hours that evening, calling it quits at 11:40 p.m.
Show time!
On the final day of the competition, we woke up earlier than ever to be ready for a 6:50 a.m. practice time. As the 8:30 a.m. show time approached, Jenna and I — the seniors on the team — shed a few tears knowing this will be our final performance with the Queens dance team. I thought about all the injuries we had overcome: my sprained wrist and bloody feet, Amina Begic’s strained hip and abs, Kira Keough’s fractured foot.
We were nervous for every routine, with so many changes in choreography from the evening before. But we never let that show, with every picture taken that day showing us with huge smiles.
We didn’t kill it. But our pom routine placed third with only a .04 point difference between second place and a two-point difference from first place. In jazz, arguably the most competitive category, we placed fourth, up from ninth the year before. In hip-hop, we placed sixth. Not bad for a young competition team. And every score and every trophy was bigger than the year before.
Jane Lowery of Olympia, Washington, is a student in the James L. Knight School of Communication at Queens University of Charlotte, which provides the news service in support of community news.