The first time I pulled myself up into an aerial hoop, I was 33 years old and had spent most of my life trying to be perfect. I’m Judith — performer, teacher, and the person writing this to you from Da Nang. My movement journey has been anything but linear. Going from ballet to aerial hoop might sound like a natural evolution, but it wasn’t. There were years in between where I barely moved at all, and a pretty random detour through hula hoops in an underground parking garage. Looking back, every step of that slightly unorthodox road mattered.
Growing Up in the Mirror
Ballet found me when I was three or four. My parents put me in a tutu, and that was basically the start of everything. For the next decade and a half, ballet wasn’t just an activity — it was the language I learned to speak with my body. It gave me structure, discipline, and a certain kind of quiet. In class, I felt completely connected to myself. Outside of class, I could carry that with me.
But ballet also asks a lot. You live with mirrors. You live with a specific idea of what a body should look like, what a line should be, what “good” means. As a kid, that made sense. As I got older, it started to feel smaller and smaller.
I loved it, and I still love what it taught me. But something in me was starting to notice there’s more out there — something I hadn’t found yet.
The In-Between Years
Then life happened. In my late teens I stepped away from ballet — and honestly from movement altogether — for a while. It wasn’t a clean break, more a slow drift. One day you’re in class five times a week, and a few years later you realise you haven’t danced at all.
I won’t go too deep into that chapter here, because what I really want to talk about is what came after. What I’ll say is this: that gap taught me how much ballet had been holding me up without me noticing. I didn’t fully appreciate what movement gave me until it wasn’t there.
The way back wasn’t a grand comeback. It was curiosity, small steps, and eventually — a completely random hula hoop in the back of a bar.
The Hoop in the Bar
The turning point came by accident, like most real turning points do. I was 24, bartending, and one quiet shift a colleague pulled out a hula hoop from somewhere behind the bar. We started playing around. I could do it. My body remembered how to move in a way I hadn’t felt in years.
The next day I bought my own hoop. I started dancing in my room. I found an empty underground parking garage near the university and started practising there, alone, with music in my ears.
That’s where the second accident happened. A woman walked past — an actual hoop dancer. She stopped, watched, gave me a proper dance hoop and her business card. She opened a door I didn’t even know existed. Suddenly I was going to hoop retreats, performing at festivals, finding a community.
Hoop dance was the opposite of ballet. There were no rules. No “right” way to move. For the first time, I wasn’t trying to meet an image in a mirror. I was just moving, and it was enough. If you want to see where that path eventually led, have a look at my how we can work together.
Aerial — The Thing I Didn’t Know I Was Looking For
At 33, living in Beijing, a friend suggested I try aerial hoop. I went to a class, pulled myself up for the first time, and something clicked. For the first time in my life, I felt genuinely strong. Not strong-for-a-dancer or strong-for-my-size — just strong. Period. And then came the moment that changes everyone — the first time you go upside down.
Aerial quickly became the thing I built my weeks around. It was challenging in all the right ways — physical, creative, endlessly interesting. It’s also where I first experienced proper flow state, the feeling of the world briefly disappearing while you move. I’ve shared more about where that journey sits now on my about page, and the full beginner side of it in starting aerial hoop as an adult.
The funny thing is, I couldn’t have done aerial without ballet first, and I couldn’t have come to aerial without hoop dance in between. Each version of me built the next one. The discipline, the freedom, the strength — they’re all still in there, just in a different order now. It’s also why aerialists tend to make great editorial models — the same discipline shows up on a set.
FAQ
Do I need a ballet background to try aerial hoop?
No. Ballet helped me with body awareness, but I’ve taught complete beginners with no dance background who picked it up beautifully. Curiosity matters more than technique.
Is it hard to switch from ballet to aerial hoop?
It’s less about difficulty and more about unlearning. Ballet rewards perfect lines; aerial rewards expression and trust. The transition is more mental than physical.
How is aerial hoop different from dance?
Aerial hoop is three-dimensional. You’re not on the floor following choreography — you’re in the air, using gravity as a partner. It’s part dance, part circus, part strength training.
Can I start aerial hoop as an adult with no background?
Yes. Flexibility and strength come through the training itself. To support the flexibility side from day one, have a look at my daily deep stretching routine.
What if I feel too self-conscious to try?
Everyone does. That was me too. In a good session, I know this and builds a space where you can feel ridiculous and still stay. That’s the whole point.
If This Story Feels Familiar
If you’ve walked away from movement — because of injury, illness, life, or just losing the thread — I want you to know that the way back isn’t a straight line. Mine wasn’t. If something in you is curious about aerial hoop or movement again, reach out through my contact page and we can talk. You can also find me on Instagram @judithesmee — I share the honest parts there too.
