From Chicago to Amsterdam: Joey shares how a late-found love for ballet grew into a career with Dutch National Ballet. A journey of resilience, falling, rising, and rediscovering balance.
In an interview series, we offer a look behind the scenes of the dance world, where passion, ambitions and challenges converge. Today, we share the story of Joey Massarelli, a professional dancer with Dutch National Ballet, whose path from a suburb of Chicago to Amsterdam’s grand stage is one of perseverance, growth, and self-discovery. His story traces the difficult but defining path that shaped his journey toward becoming the artist he is today.
“What you have to say matters. You matter. And what you do matters.”
“I didn’t start dancing early,” Joey begins. “I was about fourteen when I really got into it. But music was always part of my home. My parents played Cher and Michael Jackson; we watched Grease and Cats. My sister danced and I was always watching, trying to copy what she did.”
His first class wasn’t a triumph. “They put me in a toddler class called Boogie Babies,” he says. “I cried the whole time. I thought, this isn’t what my sister is doing.” Still, the urge to move never left. “At home I’d dance in the basement, putting on shows for pretend audiences.”
A few years later, he tried again. “I must’ve been twelve when my mom put me in a breakdancing class. I was super excited.” Soon he was adding styles. “Jazz, tap, more classes… I always wanted to do more. I begged my parents for two years to let me join the competition team. When they finally said yes, that’s when it got serious for me.”
“They put me in a toddler class called ‘Boogie Babies‘.
I cried the whole time.”
Learning the language of ballet
At that stage, ballet wasn’t on his radar. “I thought ballet was boring,” he admits. “I didn’t understand that it was the base for everything. I’d see a barre and think: you do the same thing every day?” That changed at a performing arts high school in Chicago. “We had ballet every morning. At first I was like, fine, I’ll do it. Then I realized how much it builds your foundation.”
From there, he focused more on classical training. “I studied at different summer courses and worked with a core group of teachers and some guest teachers. In my last year, I participated in a ballet competition in New York. Ernst Meisner, now the artistic coordinator of the Junior Company, was there. He offered me a scholarship to come to Amsterdam for the summer. It was my first time moving away from home. I was only seventeen.”
A leap to Amsterdam
Leaving was wrenching. “The day I left Chicago, I cried the whole day,” he says. “I didn’t want to admit it, but I was scared. Scared to fail, scared it was the wrong decision.” His parents made a deal: “They said, try it for three months. If you hate it, you can come back.” Those first months were rough. “New country, new school, new systems. I didn’t know anyone. I missed my family.”
As he began to adjust to life in Amsterdam, the differences between the dance worlds of the U.S. and Europe became clear. “In the States, they’re often desperate for boys,” he says. “I was used to scholarships and opportunities. Here, they turn people away. There are just so many talented dancers all competing for the same positions. It was more competitive and that was new for me,” Joey says.
“My teacher was tough on me because he knew:
if this is what you want, you have to put in the work.”
Finding his footing
Auditions brought reality checks. “That year was filled with a lot of auditions—and a lot of rejections,” he says. “I’m the shortest male dancer in the company. In classical ballet they usually want men around 1.80 meters tall. Physically, I didn’t fit that ideal.” He kept working anyway. “My teacher was tough on me because he knew: if this is what you want, you have to put in the work. He helped me fine-tune a foundation that would make me capable and confident.”
Joey describes that first year as “survival mode.” “I was consumed by ballet. I felt behind because some students had been here longer or had more classical training. I worked really hard just to feel like I was at an acceptable level.”
Did his love for dance survive? “It became a love–hate relationship,” he says. “It fuels me and it drains me. You have highs and lows.” Slowly building a routine and the three-month promise kept him in the game. “I’d been taught—if you make a commitment, you follow through. We couldn’t quit in the middle of something. That stuck with me.”
Life in the Junior Company
When Joey joined the Junior Company, the pace accelerated. “It felt like working two jobs,” he says. “We had our own programs, then two full-lengths with the main company. Our first month we went on a 30-show tour—on stage almost every day, in different cities. Then straight into Nutcracker—twenty-something performances.”
The workload demanded a new kind of focus. “It took time to learn how to pace myself and manage energy,” he says. “You can’t give everything all the time. You have to listen to your body and know when to push and when to rest.”
“When I first joined, mental health wasn’t really talked about.”
A changing culture
Years of touring and performing taught him endurance, but also the importance of balance, something that would later take on new meaning as company culture began to evolve. “When I first joined, mental health wasn’t really talked about,” he says. “Post-COVID, it changed. We now have a psychiatrist at work, and a physio who’s been pivotal in raising awareness around wellbeing.”
Communication improved too. “We even have a whiteboard showing what people can do on a given day with percentages of capacity. It’s not perfect, but there’s more conversation.”
That culture of openness helped dancers support one another. “We stuck together and advocate for each other,” Joey says. “If three of us share a role, we’ll say, ‘why don’t you do it now, I’ll do it later.’ It’s about taking care of each other, working as a community.”
Finding his own voice
That shift toward openness also helped Joey find his own voice as a dancer. “I can now have a bit more authority over my workload and how I manage myself. It’s not perfect, but it’s become normal to discuss with the ballet master what feels like a suitable plan. Again it doesn’t always play out the way you want but at the core your wellbeing and health is put as a top priority.”
That self-awareness extends beyond the stage. Joey channels it into representation and community work. “I’m active on committees—dancers’ representation, The steering committee of the Young Patrons Circle. I even sat on the selection committee for the new director, as a representative for the dancers. I enjoy being part of the conversations that shape our community.”
Asked where the field can still grow, Joey points to representation. “Especially in classical spaces, I’d love to see more acceptance for trans, non-binary, and queer dancers, and for BIPOC artists. Although it takes time, I still feel there could be more of a push for diversity in that area.”
But equally important, he adds, is the freedom to speak up without fear of consequence. “Space to speak up, without being judged or having it used against you,” he says. “It’s already improved a lot, but I still sense hesitancy, especially in younger dancers. Maybe a little fear to say: I didn’t like how that went—can we have a conversation about it?”
To his younger self
“What you have to say matters. You matter. And what you do matters. In a company of 90-plus dancers, it can be easy to feel lost or unseen. I’ve been here ten years, have a certain status, and I still sometimes feel invisible. Remember you have something to offer. Timing takes time. Don’t give up on what you have to offer.”
Photo’s: Thomas Mohr, Nina Tonoli, Altin Kaftira, Todd Rosenberg, Sasha Gouliaev
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