Dance for wellbeing
Completely ourselves and totally alive
TEDxNHS
24.09.2025
Completely myself and totally alive – that’s how it felt the first time I did the Cha Cha Cha as a teenager. I felt overwhelming joy that has been unmatched and consistent, through every up and down of my life. Dance has moved my body, moved my emotions and moved me closer to the people around me. Dancing fills my face with a smile and it’s infectious.
Dance is holistically beneficial to our wellbeing, it simultaneously increases heart rate, works our muscles, improves our mood and connects us to those around us.
And we already have the science that proves it.
A study at a University in Sweden found that 8 months of twice-weekly dance in school significantly strengthened the mental health of teenage girls (1). A study in China found 3 dance sessions a week for 12 weeks significantly decreased the physical frailty of older adults (2). And my own study at Imperial College showed a programme of dance in school decreased feelings of social isolation amongst young people in South London (3).
Amidst the complexity of maintaining good health, for the individual and the NHS, there is nothing we could benefit from more, feeling completely ourselves and totally alive.
This is why dance is becoming part of the menu of options in maintaining good health through preventative and community-based healthcare like social prescribing, which is where GP surgeries can prescribe holistic wellbeing support, like with housing, debt or lifestyle, in this case sports or arts.
Despite evidenced success, social prescribing of the arts remains underutilised and not equitably accessed.There is a problem. For many out there, dance is not so easy to waltz into, as it was for me.
When have you danced?
At the school disco, in a nightclub, at a wedding, in the passenger seat when your favourite song comes on?
Or maybe you haven’t. Perhaps you can’t see the teacher demonstrate, hear the music, climb the stairs into the venue, the classes are too expensive, or you simply believe you have 2 left feet, and so dance is not for you.
To really reap the wellbeing rewards provided by dance, and even other sports and arts, we must make it possible to access them.
I’m a ballroom dance teacher and a designer at the Institute of Global Health Innovation where I work on projects that try to ensure that everyone in our community has equitable access to healthcare.
When the first national Let’s Dance day was held this year, aiming to get the nation dancing to benefit their wellbeing, my worlds collided. I ran a dance class for people who are blind, to genuinely open up dance to people for whom it was usually inaccessible.
After the class, I asked the blind dancers how they found it. One of them told me...
…“I loved how you made the class accessible, but I’ve danced a lot and blind classes are always too easy. I have to make a trade-off between an appropriately levelled dance class, and the pain it causes me to access it.”
That got me thinking
Why should anyone have to choose between an accessible dance class and an enjoyable one?
Why should it be that if you are blind, have dementia, Parkinson's, a learning disability, or any other unique need, you should be limited to a “specific class”? Can we not just make all dancing, accessible to you?
Inclusion isn’t just about opening the door.
It’s about making sure that once you enter, the room truly has space for you.
Similar cases like this are all around us in everyday life, like revolving doors at building entrances. They’re inaccessible for wheelchair users or anyone with limited strength, so a side-swing door with a wheelchair button is often added. But to me, that has never really felt inclusive – as designers I’m sure we could do better and elegantly design one door that allows everyone in.
On the same trail of thought, amongst a landscape where arguably the biggest blocker for arts for health activities is a lack of funding, I believe the array of existing dance, in communities everywhere, can become more accessible to everyone.
At the Sunday weekly class where I teach at a London-based studio, I removed the barriers for the blind-but-able dancer:
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I waived the cost
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I found a volunteer to meet him at the station, guide him to the studio and dance with him
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And I was careful to describe and not just demonstrate the instructions.
He even joined us on stage for our most recent performance. A crucial part of our dance group's calendar, that provides a reason to dress up and feel a shared sense of accomplishment together. These moments build community.
But not everything about the performance day was totally smooth sailing.
I had agreed to meet him at the station to walk to the theatre, but there were delays with the TFL assistance team, and he arrived late. I chose to wait. And by the time we got to the venue, I was late too. I was pulled aside and told off by the stage manager.
In that moment, it felt like I was being punished for choosing access, for making inclusion a priority.
And this wasn’t caused by a lack of care. The show was hosted by a wonderful dance company that passionately advocates for inclusion. The intention was there. But the systems weren’t.
Just down the road, in our very own NHS hospitals, blind patients have been denied entry because security staff didn’t know their guide dogs are legally, and ethically, allowed inside.
These moments aren’t about bad people. They’re about missing structures.
But here’s the good news: to make dance accessible, we just need a couple of shifts from dance teachers, healthcare leaders, and all of you.
Dance teachers, you can take three steps to make your classes accessible.
Firstly, communicate inclusively - so everyone knows they’re welcome.
Advertise your class in places that people with access needs will find them, and let people know that if they let you know about their access needs in advance, you will prioritise meeting their needs. You could ask a blind radio station to read out your class advert, for example.
Secondly, deliver flexibly- so anyone can join, in their own way.
Use your creativity to work out how to deliver your teaching in such a way that your dancers can access. If someone is blind, describe the moves; if they can’t stand, adapt it to be seated; if they are deaf, demonstrate.
Finally, connect personally - so that people will be open to both helping and being helped.
Build connections, so people feel comfortable sharing their access needs or volunteering as partners. Sometimes, simply meeting someone at the tube station and walking them to the class can make a big difference – —and they are more likely to do that, if they like you
Healthcare leaders
The Darzi report and subsequent NHS 10 year plan of this year calls for a move from treatment to preventative health interventions, and I am telling you that dance is one of them.
For dance to be accessible and utilised equitably for its health benefits, there should be a shift in funding priority that matches the move from treatment to prevention and enables more dance.
For dance to be accessible:
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Dance teachers should be fairly paid for their time and expertise
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Volunteers who give so generously should be shown gratitude, even if it's a coffee voucher
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Larger dance studios that accommodate access needs should be recognised
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And dancers who cannot work due to disability should not be priced out of participation.
Right now, too much of the available funding is locked behind complex grant applications and processes that many community dance providers simply aren’t set up to navigate.We need a simpler, more inclusive funding model, one that doesn’t assume you have a degree in grant writing just to make your class accessible.
This matters, especially when we think about the potential of social prescribing.
As reported by a survey of 400 social prescribers earlier this year, the arts are one of the less commonly prescribed activities.One major reason? A lack of available, accessible provision in the community.
Another reason is more personal and more human. If you have not experienced the joy of dance, if you’ve never seen someone’s face light up in a dance class, it’s harder to champion it for your patients. You are of course less likely to passionately advocate for your patient to give it a go.
So here is where all of you come in
If we want to see dance truly embraced for wellbeing, we need more people to feel its value, not just talk about it. So everyone – let's dance.
Dance with your children, with your friend in the club, your partner at a wedding, on your own when you’re waiting for the kettle to boil.Be the first one to dance, so someone else knows that they can too. Drive someone to the class, or maybe just be the person to hit play and turn up the music.
However small, it all counts. Movement is medicine, but only if we use it.
After our performance with the blind dancer, I walked back to the station with him. He told me about how he used to fall a lot, because he couldn’t see uneven ground, but he believed dance had made him faster to react, more spatially aware, strengthened his muscles, and falling had become less common.
This is what is possible if inclusion is prioritised. Prioritising accessibility, we get closer to everyone having the chance to dance.
Or perhaps it’s not dance; it’s a team sport, run club, jiu-jitsu – it’s any of these collective movements that enable you to feel totally alive and completely yourself.
When the music comes on, just get up and dance. And if you can’t get up , just dance.