The reality of a dancer’s life is often more complicated than what we imagined as young students. We must become not just powerful artists but also skilled marketers, social media managers, and self-care experts. This, coupled with the need to pay rent and buy food, can create a heavy schedule of work and art. Time management and communication, essential to maintaining any career, are especially important in project-based work in the arts.
But when opportunities to work in our chosen art form arise, of course our first response is to say yes.
The tendency to overcommit is complicated. As dancers, we love what we do and want to perform. We think we can do it all. We often need multiple income streams simply to make ends meet. And in our post-pandemic world, there is also a subtle fear that life opportunities will again be taken away. As a result, we may want to take on everything while we have the chance.
But we simply cannot produce our best work or stay healthy when we take on too much responsibility. This is when we’re more likely to get injured or sick. We have to rush from one project to another, risking accidents, being late, not eating.
As a dancer, artistic director of a professional dance company, and choreographer, I am frequently seeking artists for hire. I always have candid conversations with dancers at auditions and before we begin the rehearsal process. We give them contracts to sign, which include the payment details and rehearsal schedule.
Most producers understand that artists are juggling demanding schedules—schedules they often have little control over—and are willing to compromise. Still, every cast includes dancers who are simply overcommitted. “Oh, I will only miss a couple rehearsals” is a common response, or “I can learn off video.”
In our ever fast-paced lifestyle and state of global trauma, we have lost the ability to step back and ask, “Can I fulfill my job obligations?”
We often overcommit with the best intentions, trying to balance a steady paycheck with freelance dance work. In those circumstances, communicating is key. Be honest and up front with everyone, including yourself. Let the production team know of work schedule conflicts ahead of time, if and when you can.
Part of learning to say no is trusting the process. If we can’t take on a job, we need to remind ourselves that there will be other chances to dance, in a time and space when we can give our all. It can be challenging to cobble together a career from a collection of dance projects, but one of the upsides is that those projects tend to come in many different forms: long-term, short-term, minimal and longer rehearsal times. With creativity, and the support of understanding directors, we can find a good fit.
It’s not easy to square our financial and logistical realities with our artistic dreams. But approaching both our careers and each other with care and trust will help us find the right balance—allowing us to take care of our physical and mental health, and to show up for each project at our best.
Photo by Elliston Lutz, Courtesy Jordan.
Amy Jordan is a choreographer, author, coach, and speaker, and the subject of the documentary Amy’s Victory Dance.
There is a new book out that is a must-read for dancers, teachers and directors. It’s called Nourishing Dance: An Essential Guide on Nutrition, Body Image, and Eating Disorders by Monika Saigal MS, RD, CEDS, CDN. The research presented is essential to understand, but the best parts of the book are the practical, real-life tips from someone who understands our dance world from the inside. Here, two dietitians who have spent their lives working in this world discuss the book and how we can best help dancers.
I love how you start off the book by clearing up some potentially challenging terminology. The word ‘healthy’ can sometimes be tricky.
“When I say, ‘healthy eating,’ I mean eating in a way that is nourishing, enjoyable, and adaptive and that supports their physical and mental health and a peaceful relationship with food and their body (and this will look different for everyone).
When working with dancers, I like to explore what the word ‘healthy’ means to them. This conversation helps reveal things that a dancer might view as healthy that really aren’t (for example, restrictive or compensatory approaches to eating), and offers opportunities to challenge and reframe them so we can truly be supportive of the dancer’s health.”
What does being ‘healthy’ even mean when someone is pursuing a career in the high pressure world of dance? Your book goes into detail about this.
“I love discussing this with dancers! Although there will be individual variability on what this looks like in practice, being a ‘healthy dancer’ includes fueling your body for dance and life, caring for your body to help reduce the risk of injury, getting adequate sleep and rest, caring for your mental health, finding dance/life balance, and having/working toward a peaceful relationship with food and more balanced and resilient body image.”
After years in the dance world, I appreciated your statement that practicing good self-care actually improves not just the dancers but the dance world as a whole. How can we foster an environment that makes this easier?
Monika Saigal.
“Those who train and care for dancers need a better understanding of the consequences of not prioritizing and supporting dancer health and well-being, which can be enduring (e.g. quality of life impacts of injury, disordered eating habits, poor self-worth and body image). This is why I think it’s essential to provide education to teachers/staff and parents, not just to dancers. It’s important to understand what’s at stake if we don’t support dancers in caring for themselves and to recognize the inextricable links between physical and mental health, self-care, and performance. My book has many ways we can help — giving enough time to eat, shifting our language and messaging, and providing resources to get professional help from a dietitian and therapist are just a few.”
Your book beautifully illustrates the science behind why diets don’t work, and how they actually backfire in the long run. Your chapter, ‘Dancing in Diet Culture,’ is a must-read for all dancers. What is one main point you wish all dancers could understand about the ‘dieting cycle’?
“Most people go on a diet because they want to lose weight or believe a diet will help them feel better about their body or will make them healthier, but dieting almost always leads to the opposite. This isn’t because you lack willpower or did it wrong; it’s because diets don’t work.”
In your chapter, ‘Dancing on Empty,’ you address one of the number one issues I also see in my work which is energy deficits during their work day even though dancers get adequate nutrients later in the evenings. What does ‘Low Energy Availability (LEA)’ mean?
“LEA is the result of under-fueling, and it means that the body doesn’t have enough energy to fuel exercise plus all of its other needs (normal body functioning, growth/development, daily activities), which can lead to multiple negative health and performance consequences.”
I’m seeing many dancers with LEA have higher rates of injuries. What are you seeing in your practice with dancers who are consistently in an energy deficit?
“In addition to more frequent and/or slow-healing injuries, dancers with LEA can feel more fatigued or weak and experience digestive issues, sleep disturbances, greater stress, and diminished enjoyment from dance.”
Your chapter, ‘Gentle Nutrition for Dancers,’ provides some great ideas for how, what and when dancers can get what they need to perform and recover. What are your top tips?
“Plan ahead! Schedule time for grocery shopping and meal prep, stay well-stocked with quick and easy meal and snack options, and always have a few different snack choices in your bag. I find that ‘rules’ and misinformation about what dancers ‘should’ be eating interfere with eating enough, so embracing flexibility over rigidity and prioritizing adequacy over attempts at ‘perfect eating’ can also be helpful.”
How can nutrition affect concentration, focus and mental health?
“Many of us have experienced how it becomes harder to concentrate and focus when we get too hungry. We’re more likely to make mistakes, have a harder time learning, and can feel irritable. Under-fueling on a regular basis can contribute to anxiety and depression, decrease resilience to stress, and be the catalyst for developing disordered eating. It also impacts sleep (which affects mental health) and increases preoccupation with food which can have an additive impact on concentration, focus and mental health.”
Chapter 7 addresses injuries. What’s the most important message?
“Make sure you are eating enough, and, if possible, get support from a dance dietitian. I often see injured dancers decrease their intake excessively, usually related to fear of weight gain or misconceptions about nutrition needs during injury, and this can delay healing and even prevent full recovery.”
The UK’s The Spectator recently published a piece by the Japan specialist Lesley Downer, historical consultant for the Northern Ballet’s 2020 production Geisha. In her essay, Downer wonders why claims of cultural appropriation so dramatically affected the reception of the work, which has not been remounted since its premiere. You can hear her frustration as she questions the validity of negative responses from those of Asian descent—including from people like me, founder of Final Bow for Yellowface, which since 2017 has worked to improve Asian representation in ballet.
Geisha is an original fantasy created by an almost exclusively White creative team that follows two geishas who both get raped during the course of the ballet. It is the latest in a long tradition of ballets with “Oriental” characters and settings, often with the women dying tragically, but beautifully. (For examples and discussion, see Banishing Orientalism: Dancing between Exotic and Familiar.)
Phil Chan. Photo by Eli Schmidt, courtesy Chan.
I don’t find it helpful to impugn the intentions of the creators of works like Geisha. However, it is essential to consider the impacts of such works on audience members, performers, and our larger society. Kudos to Downer for collaborating with Japanese experts on the story she wanted to tell. What was missing was consideration of the consequences of telling this kind of story—yet again—for today’s diverse audiences.
The Final Bow for Yellowface movement has been having such an impact partly because we’re living in a time of cultural sea change. Representations of Asians on the ballet stage have historically been defined by non-Asians. But today’s audiences are ready to move beyond Orientalism and its worn-out tropes, created by artists of European descent for audiences of European descent. We’ve begun to insist that if we want to set stories and operas in particular cultures, members of those cultures—as well as those who will be affected by its telling—should be collaborators. Someone from Asia used to living in the majority and an Asian living in the minority will likely experience Orientalist works differently. Where someone from Japan might see a funny clown (what’s the harm in that?), a British Japanese person might see a generic “Asian” caricature, made the butt of many Christmas pantos.
When living in the minority, a Japanese Brit and a mixed-race Chinese American like me can both be seen as generic Asians. And storylines that reinforce certain tropes about Asian people—the submissive and highly sexualized geisha, the geeky and effeminate sidekick with thick glasses—have real consequences for us. They range in seriousness from taunts in the schoolyard to being scapegoated and blamed for a pandemic, spat upon, and attacked. The fetishism of Asian women has resulted in actual rapes and horrific killings.
I hope that we would think twice about presenting works that feature even the most sublime choreography, the most beautiful sets and costumes, the most poignant and authentic librettos, once we understand their power to reinforce a long pattern of “othering.” Some of us do not have the luxury of enjoying a fantasy onstage without being affected in everyday life.
My recent focus has been exploring ways to layer new stories over the choreography and music of classical works—Madama Butterfly, La Bayadère—that feature cultural caricatures created by European creatives of the past (who didn’t know better!). These works are so much a part of our history. The goal is to preserve the best of our traditions without the baggage, and without harming the Asians among us.
Boston Lyric Opera’s production of Madama Butterfly, which Chan directed. Photo by Ken Yotsukura, courtesy Boston Lyric Opera.
If there is a company interested in revisiting Geisha, why not rework the libretto alongside Japanese collaborators who are aware of its possible impacts? Aren’t there stories we could tell about Japan that aren’t tragic fantasies about beautiful and sexually submissive Japanese women? In the case of Geisha, a skilled and thoughtful reworking probably wouldn’t even have to change too much of the choreography, sets, or costumes. As someone who directed an award-winning production of Madama Butterfly last year for Boston Lyric Opera, I know firsthand that it is possible for a non-Japanese person to tell an authentic geisha story that both reflects artistic intentions and meets the times.
At historically Black colleges and universities in the American South, the real stars of any football game are the majorettes. Their signature dance style, created by Black women and femmes, has attracted a cultlike following. It’s all about no-holds-barred spectacle, combining the precision of a kick line with the winking sensuality of burlesque, boldly embodying the marching band’s tunes.
“The dancing is very explosive,” says J’aime Griffith, who is a professor at Grambling State University and the director of the school’s dance line, the Orchesis Dance Company. “You have to be able to see it from the other side of the stadium because we’re in a competition with the opposing band and dancers. We want to outdo them.”
More recently, majorette dance has entered the mainstream, taking center stage on reality television series, movies, and social media apps like TikTok. Along the way, the majorette community has been adjusting to the increased exposure, which has brought new challenges—and new opportunities.
Grambling State University’s Orchesis Dance Company performing at halftime. Photo by Trandon Welch, Courtesy Orchesis Dance Company.
The Evolution of Majorette Dance
In the HBCU legacy, majorette dance represents a combination of Africanist and European inventions. That aesthetic tension remains a pillar of the dancing, with today’s majorette choreography featuring an amalgam of jazz, hip hop, and ballet. Field routines—dances performed on the gridiron at halftime with the marching band—are as likely to include bucking, where the pelvis pumps front and back in a deep, wide stance, as they are a grand battement, a high balletic kick with pointed toes. Stand routines—a form of call-and-response danced in the bleachers just feet away from spectators—embody a similar formula at a lower vibration.
The Alcorn State University Golden Girls are hailed as the first example of HBCU majorette dance as we know it today. The squad debuted at the 1968 Orange Blossom Classic in Miami. Affectionately called “the mothers” by fans and other lines, their gold boots have become an iconic signature.
The first-ever line of the Alcorn State University Golden Girls. Courtesy the Golden Girls.
The Jackson State University Prancing J-Settes also played a formative role in the development of majorette dance. A collaboration with queer men, the team’s approach, called J-setting, is practiced widely today and mixes the percussiveness of West African dance with acrobatics. (Think Beyoncé’s “Single Ladies [Put a Ring on It]” music video, but with full-out stunts.)
The evolution of majorette dance reflects specific and sometimes conflicting agendas, says Dr. Thomas DeFrantz, a professor at Northwestern University and a leading scholar of Black studies and dance studies. “Many dance forms arise to help young people do what they need to do,” he says. “So majorette dance arrived to help young Black women be available to each other, be attractive to each other, be attractive to potential partners, and to be emblems of the community.”
Off the Field
But what happens when the dancing leaves—or is extracted from—the community that made it? Television series like Lifetime’s “Bring It” have brought majorette dance to a broader audience; Beyoncé’s HBCU homecoming-inspired performance at Coachella in 2018 put the phenomenon on a global stage. An Oprah- and H.E.R.-produced film about a Los Angeles–based ballerina turned majorette line dancer is currently in development. And the style has all but been absorbed into the digital zeitgeist via majorette-inspired dance challenges on TikTok.
That rising popularity has directly impacted the practice itself, says Griffith, who notes an inflow of commercial forms like heels dance, as well as more extreme tricks from competition dance and social media. Other dancers say the mainstream recognition is overdue, but has not come without its issues.
The Golden Girls performing a stand routine at an Alcorn State University football game. Photo by Dr. Kecia Ashley, Courtesy the Golden Girls.
“I do feel excited about it finally getting the spotlight,” says Sanaa Davis-McClain, a former captain of the Howard University Ooh La La! Dance Line. “But I also wish we could spotlight the teaching and the classes and the foundation.”
Howard University’s Ooh La La! Dance Line, with Sanaa Davis-McClain at front. Photo by Artina Austin, Courtesy Ooh La La! Dance Line.
Majorette dance has even made its way to non-HBCU campuses. In September 2022, a video posted to X (formerly Twitter) of a stand performance by the then-new Cardinal Divas of the University of Southern California spurred a flurry of reactions. The squad faces unique challenges—partly because HBCU culture isn’t sure how to feel about it.
The USC Cardinal Divas—founded by Princess Isis Lang, above with arms raised—faces unique challenges, partly because HBCU culture isn’t sure how to feel about it. Photo by Aziza Hutcherson, Courtesy the Cardinal Divas.
“People said that since I don’t go to an HBCU, I don’t have the privilege to do this, saying they need to be gatekeeping it,” says Princess Isis Lang, the founder and incoming assistant coach of the Cardinal Divas. That resistance to Lang, a Black woman, creating a team at what has historically been a predominantly white institution is a ripple effect of a history of white Americans co-opting, profiting off of, and failing to acknowledge the creators of Black cultural exponents.
The University of Southern California Cardinal Divas on the basketball court. Photo by @cancerblake, Courtesy the Cardinal Divas.
Giselle Edwards, a sophomore who dances on the Cardinal Divas line, measures the fullness of her experience differently. “My Blackness isn’t determined by where I go to school,” she says. “It doesn’t matter if I’m at an HBCU, USC, or a community college.” And many in the HBCU community support groups like the Cardinal Divas, including Dr. Kecia Ashley, the sponsor of the Golden Girls and a former squad member herself. “I look at other cultures attempting to emulate the style of dance that our culture does so well as a form of respect and admiration,” Ashley says. “And we love that.”
A Continuing Legacy
As the cultural landscape of majorette dance continues to shift, new growing pains will emerge. But there is an encouraging constant across its widening, multiplying contexts: Black women, who remain at the center. They continue to uplift its legacy.
“Being a majorette dancer has truly inspired me to go after my dreams,” says Davis-McClain, who is pursuing a commercial dance career in Los Angeles. “I think that in itself speaks to what kind of impact this culture is having on young ladies like me.”
The Golden Girls performing a field routine at an Alcorn State University football game. Photo by Raphael Photography, LLC, Courtesy the Golden Girls.
You’ve heard it before: most people don’t move their bodies enough these days. Office workdays are long, and the television calls once they’re done. (We all need to decompress, right?) Could the concert dance industry be part of making positive change there? Through initiatives like the partnership between Breakthru and Mark Morris Dance Group (MMDG), that’s already happening.
Breakthru creates two-minute movement breaks that anyone can do at their desk, at any point in their day. Their collection now includes multiple interactive breaks that lead participants in movement inspired by Mark Morris’ vocabulary, anywhere they access the internet (with more breaks likely on the way). Dance Informa speaks with Mark Morris and Breakthru Founder Melissa Painter to learn more about the partnership, what it’s already catalyzed, and where it all goes from here. Let’s move!
A partnership comes to fruition
Why did Painter create Breakthru? “There’s a slow-motion disaster happening all around us… our sedentary behavior is linked with every chronic condition out there. And technologists are creating things that make us more like robots and less human,” she affirms.
Breakthru’s Joyful Freesia.
Yes, there’s been some resistance from the kind of people who “think that their bodies are for walking their brains around.” She responds to it by noting how “everyone has had a good idea when taking a walk,” for one. For two, she calls people to observe their breath while checking emails. For most, it’s short and shallow – which established science tells us is not conducive to whole-person health (something Morris also emphasizes). Clearly, embodiment at work matters…and is sadly in short supply.
Breakthru seeks to meet that need: through bite-sized, science-backed movement breaks – those that people all over the world are now experiencing through Slack, Google Chrome and Microsoft Teams. Painter has also been a lover of Mark Morris’ work since she first experienced it, when she was only a child. Yet, that personal passion and her professional mission only intersected when Breakthru’s data showed that individuals working for MMDG were using the program. In an amazing synchronicity, just as people with Breakthru reached out to MMDC, the same happened vice-versa. The enthusiasm to partner was mutual.
Morris notes that when COVID lockdowns hit, he certainly wasn’t the first lining up to create dance films; “I’m a theater artist.” The two dimensions of virtual meetings felt all too flat. Zoom rehearsals and classes could be plain “deflating.” Yet, if the company wanted to keep its work and impact alive, it had no choice but to translate it to virtual media.
The company pivoted to offer its Dance for Parkinson’s Disease program virtually. People all over the globe participated, demonstrating what the scale of such an offering could be. The ground was fertile for something like the partnership with Breakthru, long after lockdowns lifted and we could move together in space once again. “We’ve been doing what Breakthru is after for a long time…just in different media,” Morris says with a smile.
Painter agrees; as far as she sees it, the two companies have an aligned ethos of movement for all – not just the most thin, young, athletic and well-resourced among us. “At Breakthru, we want to convey that there’s no one ‘right’ way to look while moving. Mark conveys that in his work,” she says, with a smile of her own. “This wasn’t about wanting to work with any dance company…we specifically wanted to work with Mark’s company, because of their philosophy of movement and spirit of accessibility.”
Dancing at desks
All of that is evident in the final microbreaks that they’ve created. Motion capture technology recorded the dancers moving through adapted forms of Morris’ choreography. As in all of Breakthru’s breaks, the person is anonymous, only their physical outline legible – in the spirit of there being as many “right” ways to move as there are people moving. Morris, for his part, affirms that “that’s just the way we work. I trust the dancers to extract and distill my movement” in ways that resonate with their strengths and feel right in their body.
Mark Morris. Photo by Beowulf Sheehan.
Additionally, as with all Breakthru breaks, “users choose the break based on how they want to feel at the end,” Painter explains. The Grand Duo breaks is a “Centered Microbreak,” L’Allegro a “Confident Microbreak,” and The Look of Love a “Joyful Microbreak.” Part of that aim toward a particular mood is a specific color palette – also part of each Breakthru break. With the Look of Lovebreaks, for example, Breakthru graphic artists converted the warm colors of the costumes for the work (by Isaac Mizrahi) into the break’s design.
There are many lush flowers that shine in those colors. The soundscape is filled with bird calls, strong winds, and flowing water. That’s all quite intentional, too. “We’re trying to give people a connection to nature during their workday,” Painter says – which, she argues, is another thing sorely lacking in modern professionals’ lives, to detrimental effects on whole-person health. Morris and Painter underscore how concert dance and dance pedagogy reflect such connection to nature: through imagery, kinetic qualities and more.
Why it matters
Morris couldn’t be clearer about why what Breakthru is doing matters. “We’re on our phone all day long, and it’s physically dangerous, the way we curve over for hours…not to mention the isolation and loneliness.” Yes, movement and embodiment matter. Above and beyond that, can dance-inspired movement offer something which push-ups and sit-ups can’t?
“Through our research, we spoke with thousands of movement experts. They were clear that the lack of creative, generative movement in people’s lives is extreme,” Painter notes. “There’s nowhere near enough folk dancing, social dancing, dancing in community…and free play!”
No, people moving along with these breaks aren’t necessarily going to get the “technique” right, she affirms. Yet, what they are doing is creating something — their own version of the movement, according to their body’s capacities and needs. That is a form of play in and of itself, Painter believes. The testimonials from worldwide users validate that; “they’re saying things like ‘I feel like I’m on the playground again!,’” Painter adds. We may think that, as adults, we don’t need that in our lives – yet our daily experience can be much richer for it.
Melissa Painter of Breakthru. Photo courtesy of Painter.
“After such incredible reception from the first set of breaks, we hope to deepen this collaboration,” Painter shares. As part of her “massive dreams and visions” for the company, she shares, she’d love to explore longer classes and group formats – perhaps something that MMDG could be part of. “We’d also love to stretch into serving more generations, all ages of people…which reflects what Mark has done with his company.”
Painter maintains that the hunger for what they offer is out there. “People have an innate desire to express themselves through movement and to connect with other people. We see it across the globe, throughout time, and through human development,” she believes. “It’s a huge reason why all of these social media platforms, for all of their harms, went viral in the first place…people shared dance.”
Morris highlights the place of creativity without judgment, without unnecessary expectations. “We can let go of the idea that it’s ‘serious’ or ‘frivolous’, ‘hard’ or ‘easy’….that doesn’t have to matter.”
