A Call for Increased Diversity in Dance

Sarah Njora ’27
EE Staff Writer

In 1891, The Creole Show, a revue staged on Broadway, introduced The Cakewalk, the first American dance created by Blacks that became popular with whites. Other Black-influenced dance trends that followed were the Charleston, the Lindy Hop, the Jitterbug, and the Twist.

The 1920s and 1930s were an especially fruitful time for Black dance in the United States. Similar innovations in theater, music, literature and other arts during the Harlem Renaissance accompanied African American developments in dance.

Black musical theater, that derived from minstrel shows, continued to popularize and legitimize black dance traditions and performers, as it had in the 19th century. And yet, systems have been designed to limit colored people’s access to funding, exposure, training, and equipment. According to the article Diversifying Dance Education and Dismantling Existing Biases by Maya Simmons through Elon University, Joan Myers Brown wonders why we are still having this conversation and why we are “talking about the same things that should have changed years ago?”

In the ballet community, diversity becomes the biggest problem. People of color have the least amount of role models and opportunity for lead roles because they have zero representation.

This summer, my mom showed me a documentary for the Hot Chocolate Nutcracker, a dance studio production. The Hot Chocolate Nutcracker shares the message within its dances and performers of diversity, inclusion, and appreciation of people of different backgrounds which has as all been directed by Debbie Allen.

Debbie Allen auditioned at the Houston Ballet Academy at the age of twelve but she was denied admission. A year later, she was given another chance and was fortunately admitted by a Russian ballet instructor who accidentally saw her perform in a show. In 1964, she was admitted on a full scholarship and became the company’s first black dancer. At first, she had accepted this opportunity hoping she was seen for her talent in a room full of people who didn’t have the same skin tone or build as her, but later she figured out that she was only chosen to show the other girls what diversity looks like. Allen pushed this thought to the back of mind and later opened her school, and stated “Because I’m still that little girl who wanted to be a ballerina, who couldn’t go to the ballet school because they weren’t accepting black kids.”

We also have Aesha Ash who has been one of the few professional African American ballet dancers. Born and raised in Rochester, at 13 years old Aesha was accepted into the prestigious School of American Ballet (SAB) in New York City, where she was one of the only African American students. At 18, she joined the New York City Ballet corps de ballet, where she danced numerous soloist and principal roles because of her talent. But she knew what it was like not to fit in somewhere because you have zero representation in your field. She created The Swan Dreams Project, which aims to very literally represent dancers of color in unlikely spaces—like the streets of Rochester, New York, where she’s from—and to encourage children not to give up on their dreams because little girls and boys of color don’t know it is possible for them to get ahead.

There are more black icons with similar stories of being unseen, like Josephine Baker, a black dancer and singer who symbolized the beauty and vitality of Black American culture, or Pearl Primus, a colored woman who had dance critics praising her movements as forceful and dramatic, yet graceful and deliberately controlled, even Katherine Dunham, who was best known for incorporating black American, Caribbean, African, and South American movement styles and themes into her ballets. (And) Lastly Alvin Ailey, who was one of the most important choreographers in the history of modern dance and had a dance theater named after him even though he was colored. All who inspired and paved the way for people like Debbie Allen to become something, because she–for once–saw herself in them. If none of those people had ever put themselves out there to become more than they were predicted to be, we wouldn’t see the success of figures like Ms. Allen.

What all these women and men of color have in common, is that they all had to work harder than any other person in their studio, their town, and their household to get to where they are. They were told by everyone around them that they would never make it far in life, not because they weren’t talented enough but because they looked “different” and because of these social standards, many people were forced to accept this at a young age. But without diversity in the dance community, we wouldn’t be seeing a spectrum of styles, each overflowing with emotions, history, and purpose because everyone has an impact. But according to Data USA In 2021, 65.7% of the Dancers & choreographers in the workforce were White. Only 15.7% were Black and 7.97% were mixed race.

Representation in a more general sense is very important to all involved, and yes, in the dance industry, but also, in government, music, culture, and certainly in all different types of communities. Representation can teach people so much about other cultures and backgrounds, and give people a more well-rounded view of the world. It can build up the social identity of any young person no matter who they are, where they come from or their background.

I want to close by saying, that showing one person that they can be something in life, and that their dreams could be a reality, then you are connecting the world in more ways than you know. Representation can impact anyone’s self esteem, but as a dancer myself, seeing people who look like me–like Debbie and Aesha–make me feel included in a space where they were once excluded from.

Photo courtesy: Debbie Allen Dance Academy