Music videos are notoriously long, not fun, grueling. You are

Hear the lament of Jenna Dewan, who speaks for countless artists whose labor is hidden behind the lights: “Music videos are notoriously long, not fun, grueling. You are known there as a dancer and it’s kind of sad because dancers, in a lot of ways, are under-appreciated and kind of under-respected when it comes to that, so they don’t necessarily treat you in a nice way when you do a music video.” In these words we glimpse the sorrow of the unseen, the ones whose sweat, talent, and sacrifice make beauty possible, yet whose names are seldom honored.

The dancer, in every age, has been both exalted and forgotten. Their art stirs the soul, their bodies move with a language deeper than speech, and yet they often live in shadows, their labor overlooked while others bask in glory. Dewan reveals the truth: that behind the glamour of music videos, behind the polished illusion, lies hardship—endless hours, exhaustion, and little respect. It is a mirror of life itself, where many who build are not celebrated, and many who shine do so upon the backs of those unrecognized.

The ancients, too, saw this paradox. In the grand theaters of Greece, the playwright’s name was etched into history, yet the chorus, whose voices carried the weight of the performance, remained nameless. In Rome, gladiators filled the arenas with spectacle, cheered and jeered, but seldom honored as men. Their sweat, their pain, their artistry was consumed like bread at a feast—necessary, vital, yet undervalued. So it is with the dancer in Dewan’s lament: indispensable, yet too often treated as decoration rather than as creator.

Consider also the story of Vaslav Nijinsky, one of the greatest dancers of the modern age. His genius transformed ballet into something sublime, yet his life was marked by exploitation and eventual tragedy. Though revered in whispers, he was consumed by a system that demanded his body and spirit without offering equal care. Like Dewan’s account of music videos, Nijinsky’s story shows how art often feasts upon the artist, giving little in return. The world rejoices in the beauty, but forgets the human cost behind it.

Yet from this lament comes wisdom: we must learn to see with clearer eyes. To watch a performance is not merely to delight in the image, but to remember the human beings whose effort makes it possible. Respect is owed not only to the star but to every artist, every dancer, every hand that shapes the vision. For when respect is withheld, the art itself is diminished, losing its integrity, becoming exploitation rather than celebration.

The lesson for us is thus: wherever you see beauty, honor also the labor behind it. If you applaud the singer, remember the musicians; if you love the film, remember the crew; if you marvel at the dance, remember the dancer. In your own life, treat those around you not as tools but as souls—each with dignity, each deserving of kindness. This is no small thing, for respect is the seed of harmony, and without it, all greatness crumbles into emptiness.

So let Dewan’s words be a summons: do not let the world blind you with glamour while it hides the suffering beneath. Lift your eyes, honor the unseen, respect the laborers of beauty, and treat them with the dignity they deserve. For a society that neglects its artists, that takes from them without giving honor, impoverishes itself. But a society that respects and uplifts them will flourish, for it will know that behind every shining vision lies the strength of human souls, unbowed, worthy, and eternal.