Caring for Ourselves as Dancers of Color
By Gabrielle Nomura Gainor
Gabrielle Kazuko Nomura Gainor (she/her) is an artist, writer, and Asian American community activist. In addition to working in communications/public engagement at Seattle Opera, she's received grants from Seattle's Office of Arts & Culture and the Washington State Arts Commission. In 2021, Gabrielle has been proud to serve as a mentor and Teaching Artist with TeenTix.
Counterclockwise from top left: Gabrielle Nomura Gainor, surrounded by Dominique See, Alyssa Fung, Siena Dumas, and Hailey Burt in Farewell Shikata ga nai; Joseph Lambert photo. Christopher Montoya en pointe. Vivian Little smiles. Robert Moore jumps; Tracey Wong photo.
May was both Mental Health Awareness Month and Asian Pacific Islander Heritage Month. But as we move into summer, remember that our wellbeing as dancers of color is something to prioritize all year round.
As a chunky Asian baby in a leotard, I had no idea yet how precious or valuable I was when I started in ballet. Instead, I only saw that I was clearly not cut from the same cloth as elegant princesses and swans whose dancing I admired. The chance to don yellowface in the Chinese variation during "The Nutcracker," or to be a kowtowing, shuffling child in "The King and I" in the school play felt like places I was welcome to exist—to shine—as a child who dreamed of being onstage.
Many years later, I see that I deserved so much more than to beg for scraps in the form of sidekicks and ethnic stereotypes. Black, Indigenous, and all People of Color deserve so much more. We need not silence the parts of us that are “too much” for white norms, be it too ethnic, too dark, too curvy, too loud. White people do not own dance—not even ballet. As former Dance Theater of Harlem ballerina Theresa Ruth Howard taught me, these precious art forms belong to all of us, as well.
Now, at the end of Mental Health Awareness Month and Asian Pacific Islander Heritage Month, remember that prioritizing our mental health—our wholeness, joy, and humanity are year-round activities. Every month is for our “history” or our “heritage.” With that in mind, I bring you five personal reflections on what it means to care for ourselves mentally and emotionally as People of Color in dance. Hear from Christopher Montoya (formerly of Ballet Trockadero, Dance Fremont Managing Director), Dr. Sue Ann Huang (co-director of The Tint Dance Festival), Alicia Allen (former dancer with Janet Jackson, Mary J. Blige, and Shakira to name a few), Robert Moore (formerly of Spectrum Dance Theater), and Vivian Little (retired ballerina and Dance Fremont founder).
Photo courtesy of Christopher Montoya
Find an environment where you can thrive
For Christopher Montoya (he/they), not having the right body type was a stressor that only compounded on top of being brown, gay, and working-class. Eventually, Montoya discovered their truth as being gender-non-conforming, and would often feel pressure to pass as straight in order to be hired for dance jobs. Finding an encouraging ballet teacher who embraced Montoya’s authentic self, and then discovering a community in Ballet Trockadero were defining moments.
“Going into Trockadero is really where I found myself,” Montoya said. “The dancers were Australian, Venezuelan, Spanish, Mexican, Black, Asian. We all felt like misfits because we didn’t fit into this binary mold of ballet. Trying to pass as a straight man always felt so fake and defeating. But here, I got to be me.”
From Montoya’s experience, taking time to situate oneself in a supportive dance environment is crucial. (For some, this could mean choosing a Black-led dance school or a class taught by a teacher of color). If the environment is unsupportive, it could be time to leave or look elsewhere.
Sue Ann Huang and Arlene Martin. Joseph Lambert photo
Divest from that which does not serve you
Dr. Sue Ann Huang (she/her) not only co-founded an event centering BIPOC, Tint Dance Festival, her dissertation focused on choreographers of color in the Pacific Northwest. Most recently, she’s been thinking deeply about what liberation is possible through concert dance, which still possesses an intimate, even symbiotic relationship, with white supremacy.
While white supremacy once referred to overt hate as seen through groups such as the KKK, white supremacy today refers to an ideology that acts in both overt and subtle or unspoken ways. In western society, for example, white culture, white norms, and white people are valued more highly, and above other cultures. A cursory glance at the majority of ballet and modern dance companies show this favoring of whiteness, as seen through artistic leaders, company rosters, and choreographers whose work is presented.
In Huang’s view, dancers of color must strive to create space between what’s true and what’s cultural default. Today she does this by resisting the pressure to see certain “it” choreographers or companies, and instead asks herself what will bring joy.
“What kind of dance do I visually want to see? What kind of movement do I want to do? I am mostly only seeing shows produced by People of Color I care about, and that’s OK.”
Alicia Allen, photo courtesy of the artist
Hold them accountable
As a Black woman in a predominantly white dance department, Alicia Allen (she/her) felt invisible. From the professor who asked if she was in the right place, to the bathrooms littered with posters of white dancers, and how-to instructions for the perfect ballet bun, the message was subtle, but loud:
“My Blackness and street styles did not ‘make’ the walls.”
It wasn’t until Allen connected with other students who had experienced similar events that she gained the courage to fight. During her senior year, the majority of her efforts were focused on holding her dance department accountable. She served on committees, planned town-hall events, and lobbied to get a racist class canceled. And she’d do it again in a heartbeat.
“Don’t be afraid to speak your truth and share your experiences. You should always hold your teachers and professors accountable for your education. Hold them accountable for respecting dance cultures and communities.”
When Allen teaches hip-hop today, she never skips over the fact that this dance style was birthed from the joy and pain of Black people. Instead, she encourages her students to face their own discomfort as they reckon with history—a necessary part of respecting where the art comes from.
Roberty Moore jumps; Tracey Wong photo
Reorient your organization toward justice
In the past, Robert Moore (he/they) has seen dance organizations think that anti-Blackness, the increase in Asian American attacks, or what it means to live on occupied Coast Salish land, are not relevant to ballet or modern dance. But Moore does not stop being Black when he comes into the studio.
“What puts a nice little grin on my face is seeing organizations step up for the first time, seeing them stumbling over themselves, and actually learn something from pulling some weight, rather than just being passive,” he said.
Moore has found rest this past year by being in community with other Black artists: getting to discuss life—including topics that have nothing to do with race—has brought them joy.
Remember, Moore said, People of Color do not owe anyone a conversation or explanation about race, ever: “Honor the quiet revolution of a dancer of color just going to class, rehearsing, and taking moments to exist freely.”
Re-think ballet and dance education
Vivian Little (she/her) never connected race to body type when she was dancing with Pacific Northwest Ballet and San Francisco Ballet in the 1980s. Years later, she was teaching at a university and her colleagues of color recounted the discrimination that they had faced. Only then was she able to connect the dots between racism and the “defectiveness” of certain bodies. Through this lens, the concerns of her colleagues made sense: a Filipina whose short legs prevented her from earning short-tutu roles, a Columbian danseur with who never had the right “look” for a prince. Being of Irish and Japanese ancestry, Little thought about how she herself was often cast as the sensual or Latina role because of her “exotic look.”
Today, Little pushes back on the uniformity and preferred Eurocentric ballet aesthetics. One way to do this has been learning more about the human body and movement mechanics related to ballet technique. Little sees the potential in every student, whether their first position is a delicious little slice, or a whole half, of pie; whether their leg reaches up toward the heavens in arabesque, or points down toward the earth; whether they look like generations of European ballerinas, or they are helping to illuminate the multifaceted, multicultural beauty alive in ballet.
“Ballet teachers must teach to the person, not to an ideal,” Little said. “It takes much more thought, care and intentionality to be inclusive because of the waters of white supremacy we've been swimming in and the air of racism we've breathed for centuries.”
Photo courtesy of Vivian Little
Resources
Additionally, please check out the work of the following Seattle-based artists: Alicia Mulikin, Dani Tirell, Noelle Price, Randy Ford, Imana Gunawan, Cheryl Delostrinos, Amanda Morgan, Sarah-Gabrielle Ryan, Donald Byrd/Spectrum Dance Theater, among many, many others.