Credit
Julieta Cervantes for The New York Times
Laurie A. Woodard, Ph.D.
New York University
By Laurie A. Woodard
July 15, 2015
MISTY
COPELAND’S elevation to principal dancer with American Ballet Theater
is a tremendous accomplishment for her as a ballet dancer and as an
African-American ballerina. Neither her talent nor her achievement
should be underestimated. But even as she reaches the apex of her art in
the role of Odette/Odile in “Swan Lake,” her promotion poses
complicated questions about black artists in classical ballet.
This
country has a long history of embracing exceptional African-Americans
decades before we will fully admit their equal talent and abilities.
Whether it was Jackie Robinson, Halle Berry or Barack Obama, somebody
had to go first. The world of classical ballet is no different.
Since
ballet was developed in the court of Louis XIV in late 17th-century
France, it has proved resistant to evolving beyond its roots as an
elite, rigidly European art form. Balletomanes, choreographers and
directors generally concurred that black bodies were unsuited to the
lines of classical technique. Racism and discrimination continued to
plague ballet, and throughout most of the 20th century,
African-Americans were largely barred from quality training and
professional careers.
Largely,
but not completely. Although Ms. Copeland is the first African-American
ballerina to attain the rank of principal dancer with the historically
white A.B.T., she is not the first African-American professional
ballerina. In fact, the line is long and illustrious, including Janet
Collins, who danced with the Metropolitan Opera House in the early
1950s; Raven Wilkinson, who joined the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo in
1955; Nora Kimball, one of the first African-American soloists (a rank
below principal) with A.B.T.; and the legendary Virginia Johnson of the
Dance Theater of Harlem.
These
women, and others, established trailblazing careers despite the subtle
and overt racism they faced. Ballet Russe reportedly told Ms. Wilkinson
and her family that they were not to let the public know that this
light-skinned young woman was actually black. Onstage, she was often
required to “white up,” masking herself in pale pancake makeup.
This
practice continued when I began my ballet training decades later in
Washington, D.C., though it was generally limited to the so-called white
ballets — “Swan Lake,” “Giselle,” “La Sylphide” and “La Bayadere.”
(White ballets are so named not because of racism, but because they are
peopled with ghosts and swans and spirits, their ashen costumes
illuminated in a pale white glow.)
Although
the white ballets were not designed to exclude African-Americans, that
is what happened. In Washington, in “The Nutcracker,” African-American
dancers were inevitably cast in the Arabian/Coffee divertissement,
regardless of their aesthetic qualities or mastery of technique. And it
was regarded as ludicrous for an African-American child like me to dance
in the opening party scene.
On
one occasion, in a “Nutcracker” production of the prestigious ballet
school I attended in the 1970s, I appeared in the party scene because
the young dancer cast in the role was snowbound. I was so plastered with
powder that I came across the footlights deathly pale — shades lighter
than all the other dancers. Such was the anxiety about preserving
ballet’s whiteness.
I
went on to become a professional ballet dancer, touring internationally
with Dance Theater of Harlem. D.T.H., America’s first world-class
predominantly black ballet company, was created in part as a response to
racism within and beyond the world of classical ballet. Upon learning
of the assassination of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Arthur
Mitchell, the first African-American principal dancer with New York City
Ballet, resolved to create a space for black ballet dancers.
The
classical and neoclassical repertory, coupled with Afro-Caribbean- and
African-inspired works, demanded great technical virtuosity, and company
members served as ambassadors of black ballet on six continents. Mr.
Mitchell gave lectures and demonstrations that expanded audiences for
black ballet — and black audiences for ballet generally — even as he
illuminated the often unperceived similarities between classical ballet
and popular dance. D.T.H. provided African-American dancers like me with
a home and opportunities, including the chance to dance “Swan Lake” and
“Giselle” sans powder.
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