Lebanon’s young dancers between passion and possibility

Dance is a form of expression that transcends language, bringing together people through movement. In Lebanon however, the passion for dance often exists alongside a challenging professional reality, where young dancers struggle to find consistent training, performance opportunities and sustainable careers.

Seeking to bring the art form closer to the public, The Lebanese Ministry of Culture marked a nationwide dance day as part of its “Culture Brings Us Together” campaign. More than ten dance schools across different regions of Lebanon opened their doors for free classes spanning a range of styles and open to all ages. The program also included special performances and gatherings, among them an event on the steps of the National Museum in Beirut, with participation from groups such as the Lebanese Center for Special Education (CLES) and local dance academies.

A space without pressure

Sandra Khoueiry, 23, a full-time dancer, attended two classes and was struck by the mix of people in the room. “Some were professional dancers, others were beginners, and some had simply come out of curiosity. There was no pressure to perform or prove anything.”

She believes the cost of training makes dance feel out of reach for many. “Having free classes, even for one day, allows people to experience something they might otherwise never have the chance to try.”

She began ballet at six, but contemporary dance changed her relationship with movement. “It allows me to be uncomfortable, and I think that is where the beauty lies,” she told The Beiruter. “For me, dance is a language, and contemporary is the language in which I feel most understood.”

Her concern is the lack of a professional path. “There are very few established companies that regularly recruit dancers, offer contracts or provide long-term employment. You might spend years training, attending workshops and developing your technique, only to find yourself wondering what comes next.” Many peers are forced to look elsewhere for income. “I know people who are incredibly talented but have had to put dance aside because they simply cannot afford to pursue it full-time.”

Khoueiry has considered a career abroad, yet she hopes to return. “I do not think young artists should have to leave their country simply to be taken seriously as professionals.”

Her priorities for change begin with recognition. “Dance needs to be recognized as a profession rather than something people do as a hobby.” She also calls for scholarships and training outside Beirut. “There is so much potential beyond the capital, but access to professional instruction and performance spaces is not equally distributed.”

What keeps her going is the studio itself. “Whenever I enter a studio, I remember why I started. Dance gives me a sense of belonging, even when the professional environment around me feels uncertain.”

A passion met by reality

Natasha Ayoub, 21, university student and dancer, joined a free hip-hop workshop and welcomed the chance to train without counting the cost. “It was such a nice change to dance without worrying about class fees.”

She was equally struck by the atmosphere and by what younger participants learned. “Sometimes people assume hip-hop is just about learning choreography from music videos, but there is so much history, technique and culture behind it. Events like this help people understand that dance is an art form in its own right.”

Natasha found hip-hop after trying several styles. “I loved its energy, its freedom and the confidence it gave me,” she told The Beiruter. What sets it apart, in her view, is individuality. “Two dancers can perform the same choreography and still bring completely different personalities to it.”

She sees talent in Lebanon without structure. “There is no consistent professional circuit for dancers. We need more concerts, theatrical productions, commercial projects and festivals that actually hire dancers and compensate them properly.” Commercial work exists but is unreliable. “These opportunities are usually project-based, and competition is high. You can audition and spend weeks preparing without knowing whether you will be selected or even compensated fairly.”

The financial strain is constant. “You have to keep investing money to remain competitive, while there are very few opportunities to earn it back.”

She follows international auditions and sees openings in Europe and the Gulf that are harder to find at home, but she would not want to leave permanently. “It would be wonderful to see Lebanese dancers represented in international productions and then bring that experience back home.”

Of the Ministry’s role, she called Dance Day “a good starting point” and hopes it grows into something larger. “A free workshop is wonderful, but what happens the day after? We need year-round initiatives, funded training programs, public performances and partnerships with local studios and dance schools.” She also urged grants for young choreographers. “We need to move beyond celebrating dance for one day and start creating an environment in which dancers can actually work.”

Her advice to those following behind is direct. “Do not wait for someone to give you permission to dance. Train, attend workshops, meet other dancers and take every opportunity to perform. But also be realistic about the challenges.”

A country's artistic potential cannot only be measured by its talent, but by the opportunities it creates for that talent to flourish and find its place.