Content note: This piece includes references to physical punishment and emotional abuse in dance training
In Parts One and Two, I explored dynamics within coercive dance environments: institutions and teachers who caused harm, yet became idolised within the industry. This included the tension of revering their achievements while naming the damage they inflicted. Many students witnessed abuse as children and could not intervene; their silence was a survival response. But as adults, where does the responsibility lie in telling the full story? For those who would like to follow this thread further, Part Two explores the psychology of the bystander.
Abuse rarely functions randomly. Coercive methods rely on structure. They keep order through unspoken assignments, shaping how students experienced the same teacher in radically different ways. Trauma psychology and family systems theory show that dysfunctional groups often mirror dysfunctional families, reproducing dynamics such as the scapegoat and the golden child. In dance, these roles became part of how silence was maintained and how harm was normalised.
The Scapegoat
Some students became the scapegoats: those who absorbed the harshest criticism, ridicule, or even physical punishment. They were made examples of, their mistakes highlighted in front of peers as warnings of what not to be.
I experienced this first-hand as a child. At around nine years old, I was kicked up the bum several times in front of senior ballet students. My “offence” was not my own behaviour, but the fact that my mother had casually mentioned to another parent that one teacher at the school seemed too harsh. Through gossip, the principal found out. She never spoke to my mother. Instead, she used me as the messenger, kneeing me from behind and in front of the older dancers and saying, “Tell your mum to stay out of it.”
The humiliation was public and unforgettable. My tailbone sore and bruised. The message was clear: even private concerns could be punished, and children could be made to carry the cost. Silence became part of survival.
What made this more confusing was the way roles were never fixed. I was scapegoated at times, yet also praised at other moments. Psychologists call this ‘intermittent reinforcement’: alternating between punishment and reward. At times I was shamed and humiliated, while at other times I was praised, rewarded, even given gifts. The inconsistency created confusion, even a kind of attachment, because I never knew which version of the teacher I would face. Breadcrumbing and sudden bursts of approval kept me striving for more, even while I was being harmed.
For many students, being scapegoated left deep marks of shame and fear, often pushing them out of dance altogether.
The Golden Child
In coercive environments, certain students were elevated as favourites. Psychologists often describe this dynamic using the term “golden child”, drawn from family systems theory, to capture the way one child is idealised while others are devalued. These students received praise, opportunities, and proximity to the teacher’s approval. Their errors were often overlooked, reframed, or used as teaching moments that reinforced the teacher’s status rather than undermining it.
From a distance, this position appeared enviable. Yet research on family and group dynamics shows that children cast into this role frequently carry hidden burdens. They may experience guilt when they later recognise the suffering of peers, fear of falling from favour, or identity confusion when their sense of worth becomes tied to an authority figure’s approval. The role could reinforce silence, since speaking out would mean jeopardising the privileges and protections they had been given.
Triangulation
Another mechanism of control was comparison. Teachers would position students against one another: “Look at how she does it; why can’t you?” This triangulation diverted attention away from the authority figure and onto peer rivalry.
Its effects were corrosive. Instead of solidarity, students were primed to measure themselves against each other. Competition was intensified, and collaboration was undermined. From a systems perspective, triangulation ensured that the teacher remained central, with students focused laterally on one another rather than questioning the source of authority.
Gaslighting
Gaslighting occurred when cruelty was reframed as discipline, or humiliation was described as character-building. If students reacted with distress, they were told they were too sensitive, weak, or uncommitted.
This strategy destabilised perception. Over time, students doubted their own instincts, attributing harm to personal failure rather than external abuse. The psychological cost extended beyond training, often leaving former students uncertain of their own judgments and vulnerable to further exploitation in adult life.
Intermittent Reinforcement
A further complexity was that roles were not always fixed. The same student could be scapegoated in one moment and favoured in another. Psychologists call this intermittent reinforcement: alternating between punishment and reward.
This inconsistency heightened attachment to the authority figure. Small rewards, such as a kind word, an opportunity, or even a gift, could follow directly after episodes of humiliation or punishment. Such unpredictability deepened the confusion for students, binding them to the system as they strove to secure approval and avoid rejection. Intermittent reinforcement is known to create some of the strongest psychological bonds, which is why many dancers remained loyal to teachers who had also harmed them.
Integration
Scapegoats, golden children, triangulation, gaslighting, intermittent reinforcement: these were not isolated events. They were mechanisms of survival and control within a larger system. The roles were imposed, not chosen. Like in families marked by dysfunction, these roles functioned to stabilise the system itself. By distributing attention, approval, and punishment unevenly, the system maintained its authority and coherence, even as individuals within it bore significant psychological costs.
Naming these roles does not erase artistry, nor does it deny the brilliance achieved. It reveals the hidden architecture of harm, so that silence and denial are no longer the only stories told.
Closing Reflection
Each dancer who passed through these systems carries a version of these roles. Some still cling to the comfort of loyalty; others still carry the scars of scapegoating, gaslighting, or triangulation. The work of cultural change is to dismantle the structures that cast students into roles of survival, and replace them with systems that honour agency, respect, and collaboration.
What role did you find yourself in? And how has it shaped the way you see discipline, authority, and your own worth?
Real transformation will not come from glorifying the “greats” or erasing the past. It will come from recognising the patterns, acknowledging the harm, and daring to build something different. The final part of this blog series will be about the roll of the ‘enablers’ – stay tuned.
A note on long-term impacts
Research in psychology and family systems suggests that these roles often echo into adulthood.
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Former golden children may struggle with perfectionism, fear of failure, or identity diffusion, as their sense of worth was tied to external validation. Some go on to achieve highly but carry hidden anxiety, while others may find themselves replicating approval-seeking dynamics in work or relationships.
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Former scapegoats often internalise shame, becoming hypervigilant and self-critical. Yet they may also develop a strong capacity for empathy and truth-telling, as they were the ones who saw the system most clearly. Healing for scapegoats often involves reclaiming self-worth beyond the labels imposed on them. Importantly, many scapegoats become courageous reformers, creative thinkers, or leaders who model fairness and care, precisely because they know the cost of injustice.
Both roles were adaptations to a dysfunctional environment. Neither defined the true value of the child. Understanding how these roles played out can free dancers to step into adulthood with greater clarity and agency.
The risk of repetition
Research on intergenerational transmission of trauma (Kellermann, 2001) suggests that the likelihood of repeating coercive behaviours varies across these roles. Golden children are more likely to replicate harsh or authoritarian methods in adulthood if they never examine the privilege and loyalty that kept them safe within the system. Scapegoats are less likely to perpetuate harm, but may struggle with boundaries, self-doubt, or tolerating toxic environments. Those who moved between both roles often carry the deepest confusion, and may replicate inconsistency in their own leadership if left unaddressed. Recognising these patterns is not about blame. It is about awareness, so that teachers and leaders today can pause, reflect, and choose a different path.
A note of care
If this article has stirred difficult memories or feelings, please take a moment for grounding. Reach out to someone you trust, journal your reflections, or give yourself space to breathe. If the patterns described here resonate with your own experience, know that you are not alone. Support from trauma-informed therapists can help untangle the impact of these roles and restore a sense of safety.
References for the three part series
•Bowen, M. (1978). Family Therapy in Clinical Practice. Jason Aronson.
•Carnes, P. (1997). The Betrayal Bond: Breaking Free of Exploitive Relationships. Health Communications.
•Kellermann, N. P. (2001). Transmission of Holocaust trauma: An integrative view. Psychiatry, 64(3), 256–267.
•McBride, K. (2008). Will I Ever Be Good Enough? Healing the Daughters of Narcissistic Mothers. Free Press.
•Mellody, P. (2003). Facing Codependence. HarperCollins.
•Miller, A. (1997). The Drama of the Gifted Child. Basic Books.
•Minuchin, S. (1974). Families and Family Therapy. Harvard University Press.
•Satir, V. (1988). The New Peoplemaking. Science and Behavior Books.
•Skinner, B. F. (1953). Science and Human Behavior. Macmillan.
•Stern, R. (2007). The Gaslight Effect: How to Spot and Survive the Hidden Manipulation Others Use to Control Your Life. Morgan Road Books.
•van der Kolk, B. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. Viking.