09.06.2025
Ballet Behind Bars: Bringing dance to prisons in Aotearoa
Since 2017, the Royal New Zealand Ballet’s Education team have been visiting prisons across the motu to bring ballet to incarcerated people. Our Education and Community Manager, Lauren Byrne has been teaching at these workshops since 2020, so we sat down to chat to her about the programme, what the classes look like, and how ballet can have an impact in perhaps the most unexpected of places.
Credit: Aimee Sullivan
Kia ora Lauren! Thank you for chatting with us. Firstly, how did you first start working on the RNZB’s prison programme?
Before I started at RNZB, I saw a video on Facebook of Pagan Dorgan running a workshop at Rimutaka Men’s Prison. Pagan was one of the original instigators of the programme and a Dance Educator with the company at the time. She also happened to be one of my teachers when I was younger – we first met when I was 12 at Hutt Intermediate!
That video really stuck with me. A couple of years later, RNZB was hiring a new Dance Educator. Throughout the recruitment process, I made it really clear that I was deeply interested in working in the prisons – it was something I genuinely hoped to be involved in.
Can you describe what a typical workshop looks like?
We usually kick things off with an aerobic warm-up: think star jumps, squats, running on the spot, and arm circles. Then we move into some gentle stretching – focusing on areas like the back, shoulders, hamstrings, and hip flexors. After that, we keep building on the warmup with a few core and upper body strength sequences: sit-ups, push-ups, that kind of thing.
Once we stand up, we start travelling steps – beginning with simple movements like step-taps or grapevines and gradually layering in more complex sequences and jumps as the weeks go on. I also weave in fitness elements like bear crawls, walkouts and travelling lunges. It’s definitely a high-energy class!
From there, we move into choreography – adding new sections each week. The dance becomes more challenging over time and includes a mix of styles to keep things fresh.
What has surprised you most in your time working on the prisons programme?
Honestly, the level of respect the men have shown me, and how open they are to learning and really giving it a go. It’s amazing how invested they become, and how much fun they have with it.
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve had to turn away because I’m tearing up – whether it’s watching them support each other with the steps, or when they come to class and tell me they’ve been practicing back in their unit. One of the most touching things is when they tell me they’ve been able to connect with their daughters over dance – saying things like, “I’m learning dance just like you do.”
Do you remember your first workshop? What was that experience like?
I don’t remember the first workshop itself, but I do remember my first time arriving at the prison. I had pulled over on the prison driveway to quickly throw on a jersey before my induction. When I got to the carpark, a few Corrections Officers came over and asked to search my car – apparently, they’d seen me on the security cameras and flagged it as “suspicious activity”!
It was a quick, sharp introduction to how serious and high security the environment really is.
How is a dance workshop in a prison different from one in a community or studio setting?
The environment is completely different – in pretty much every way. Just entering the prison is an experience: big, heavy steel doors, guards operating all the access points, security screenings, check-ins at every gatehouse. It’s very intimidating at first.
Inside the workshop itself, I’m a bit more conscious of group dynamics. I pay close attention to the energy in the room, and I’ll move on quickly from something if I feel like it’s not landing.
Interestingly, I often see more noticeable improvement across all areas – fitness, flexibility, choreography retention/memory, and execution – in the prison classes compared to other settings. There’s a real eagerness to learn and engage, and it shows.
What are your key goals when teaching?
My main goals are for the men to enjoy themselves, feel uplifted, and safe enough to express themselves and try something new. I aim to create a class that’s challenging but achievable – something that gives them a workout, builds their confidence, and teaches them something useful they can carry forward, like stretches for daily life.
I want to present as someone who’s non-judgemental, and to create a space where they feel seen in a positive way. If they leave class feeling lighter, happier, and in a mindset to make good choices for the rest of their day, then I’ve done my job.
And honestly, one of the biggest things I hope to shift is the stereotype that dance is weak or “not for men.” I want them to see how physical, demanding, and powerful it really is.
How do you tailor sessions to suit different prison environments or populations?
It varies a lot depending on the prison. Some facilities have big gyms; others have small, confined spaces. The men might be older, stiffer, or less physically able. Some groups aren’t as into fitness or might not know each other well, which means I must build trust and create comfort around doing things as a group.
I always focus on reading the room – picking up on energy, mood, and body language – and I make detailed notes after each session about what worked and what didn’t.
Sometimes I’m dealing with a whole mix of those challenges in one group, which is when I focus on offering lots of options so everyone can participate in a way that suits them. It’s all about finding ways to keep everyone engaged and feeling part of the experience.
"Just walking into the class can be a massive step for these men. It’s a huge act of courage and vulnerability. For many of them, this is the first time they’ve ever danced – often because it wasn’t accessible growing up, financially or otherwise. This programme isn’t just about movement – it’s about creating a spark of hope in a place that can feel incredibly bleak."
Lauren Byrne
Credit: Aimee Sullivan
What kind of feedback do you receive from participants?
The feedback is often really powerful. Here are a couple of direct quotes that have stayed with me:
“I was filled with heaps of intense energy for hours afterwards – taking it with me to work and jumping all over the place. It was a mean natural high and made me feel really good. It helped me build my confidence and not take myself so seriously, which is even more meaningful when you’re surrounded by people you don’t know.”
– Tongariro Prison, 2023
“I believe this workshop will be a great educational programme. It helped me believe I can be a fun dad, and it built my confidence.”
– Tongariro Prison, 2023
That kind of feedback reminds me that the work is doing what it’s meant to do – not just physically, but emotionally and socially too.
Have there been any standout stories that have stayed with you?
So many. One that really stands out is a guy whose daughters did ballet – he used to go to all their end-of-year shows. He was so excited to tell them that he was learning dance and ballet in prison. He asked me to print off pictures of ballet positions so he could keep revising them between classes.
At the end of the programme, one of the PE guards pulled me aside and told me that this man and a few of his mates had been skipping gym workouts to practise the choreography instead. He said they were planning to start their own dance group because they’d enjoyed it so much.
There have also been a few times where the men have done a haka to thank me at the end of the programme. Those moments are incredibly emotional – deeply powerful acknowledgements that I’ll carry with me forever.
How do participants tend to respond to dance as a new or unfamiliar form of expression?
There’s a lot going on emotionally in those first sessions. Many of the men feel unsure, awkward, or anxious about how they’ll come across in front of others – so they’ll mask it in different ways. Some get loud and jokey, others stay quiet and hang to the sides.
But once the ice starts to break, there are so many laughs – whether it’s because they’ve nailed a combo and are proud of themselves, or because they’ve messed up and can laugh it off. There’s a real joy in the room. I think the men often surprise themselves with how much they enjoy it – and how hard it is!
In what ways do you see dance improving confidence or self-esteem among the prisoners?
It gives them a chance to commit to something and see it through – and then feel the benefits of that effort. That in itself builds confidence.
Dance asks them to show up physically, mentally, emotionally. When they manage to stand up in front of their group and dance – that’s huge. It can shift the way they see themselves, and what they believe they’re capable of, both inside and outside prison.
It’s also about how good it feels to move your body – dancing lifts your mood, gets the endorphins flowing, challenges your brain, improves memory. They start to notice the changes in their own fitness, flexibility, and focus, and that sense of progress feeds their self-esteem.
A lot of our feedback highlights that increase in confidence – it’s one of the most consistent themes we hear from the men.
How has the programme evolved since it began?
The biggest change has been how much it’s grown. Thanks to generous donors and charitable trusts, we’ve been able to deliver the programme across Aotearoa – far beyond where it started.
It began at Rimutaka and Arohata Prisons in Wellington, and since then we’ve delivered multiple programmes at Christchurch Women’s, Auckland Women’s, Rolleston Men’s, Tongariro Men’s, and Northland Correctional Facility. It’s been amazing to see the reach grow and to know that more and more people are getting access to this experience.
How do you measure success in a setting where traditional outcomes may not apply?
Success can look really different in this space – it’s not about technical perfection or ticking off a syllabus. For me, it starts with who comes back after the first session. Often, the first class is packed – everyone’s curious. But the ones who return are the ones who’ve really connected. That said, I’m always mindful that people might miss a class for reasons out of their control – therapy sessions, visits, or other commitments – so it’s not a perfect measure.
I also look at the group dynamic: are they all participating? Are they helping each other with the steps? Are they laughing, asking questions, making the movement their own? Do they talk to me after class about what they’re learning, or tell me they’ve been practising back in the unit? Those moments – where they show pride in what they’ve learned – that’s where I see the real impact.
How do you work with prison staff to ensure the sessions run smoothly?
The Corrections staff are very supportive – although sometimes a bit surprised that the men are dancing! They help create a safe environment for everyone involved, and that support is essential.
Often, officers will even join in the class. That completely shifts the vibe – it becomes something shared rather than something observed. That “all-in-it-together” energy helps the men feel less self-conscious and more likely to give it a proper go right from the start.
Does the physical environment of prison impact the body, and if so, how can dance help?
Being in prison has a very real physical impact. A lot of the men focus heavily on weight training – getting as big and strong as possible to protect themselves. But that often comes without proper stretching or balance, which can create tension and pain.
The environment itself shows up in the body too. The concrete floors, high fences – even overhead fencing in some places – all contribute to a feeling of being compressed or enclosed. That can lead to sore backs and knees, tight hips, and introverted posture. Some units are locked in from 5pm to 7am, which means limited movement and a lot of time sitting or lying down.
On top of that, the prison diet is carb-heavy, and the only additional food options come from the ‘tuck shop,’ which can lead to unhealthy eating habits and weight gain.
That’s where dance can really help. The programme:
- Introduces a cardio-focused class that’s different from weight training – raising the heart rate and improving overall fitness.
- Helps with posture and alignment through targeted movement.
- Builds a daily stretching routine that men can take back to their cells and continue to do long after the dance programme ends.
- Focuses on muscle groups that are often overworked – lower back, hamstrings, glutes, quads, hips, shoulders – to help with pain and improve mobility.
It gives their bodies a new way of moving and a way to feel better.
Why are most of the programmes delivered in male prisons?
I’ve taught in both male and female prisons, and while every group is different, I’ve found the programme often has a stronger uptake in men’s prisons.
Generally, the men are more open to learning – especially when the class is fitness-based, which already aligns with their interests. There’s less self-consciousness, and they’re often keen to improve.
In contrast, the women can struggle more with self-esteem, and that can make engaging with dance – especially something new and physical – feel really intimidating. There are also often deeper emotional layers for the women; being separated from children or family can make it hard to stay present in the class.
That doesn’t mean the work isn’t valuable – it’s just different, and sometimes needs a gentler, more therapeutic approach to meet the women where they are.
What would you like people on the outside to understand about the impact of this programme?
That just walking into the class can be a massive step for these men. It’s a huge act of courage and vulnerability. For many of them, this is the first time they’ve ever danced – often because it wasn’t accessible growing up, financially or otherwise.
This programme isn’t just about movement – it’s about creating a spark of hope in a place that can feel incredibly bleak. A chance to leave their cell, to connect with their bodies in a positive way, to laugh, to feel proud, and to be seen. It also teaches real, transferable skills – self-discipline, focus, teamwork, emotional regulation – all while challenging stereotypes and helping them see themselves in a new light.
What has teaching this programme taught you personally?
It has taught me how impactful dance can be. As a trained dancer, sometimes I think you can get bogged down in the seriousness of technique or aesthetic, but this programme is purely about celebrating the joy of movement and dance, connection, and self-expression. It has the capacity to transform a space, no matter how sterile or intimidating. This work reminds me again and again that dance is so much more than performance – it’s a tool for wellbeing, communication, growth, and reclaiming identity.