Growing up in the competitive dance world, I know what it is like to be in a studio where no one looks like you. I know what it is like to have no one to look up to, and I know what it is like to be typecast into styles that "look better on my race." However, after all these years of living, breathing and learning the art of dance, proving people wrong has become a behavior that is now ingrained into my existence.
After years of dancing, attending competitions, and going to conventions, I've almost always been the only black girl in the room. I've always noticed it, but I never questioned the reason until I grew older. When I think about other sports or just hobbies in general, I asked myself, "Why do kids, specifically African Americans, indulge themselves in these activities?" It is because they have someone to look up to. There is satisfactory representation that causes these kids to say to themselves, "I want to be a basketball player when I grow up," or, "I want to be a singer when I grow up," and it wasn't until eight years ago that young black kids even began to think to themselves that they could be the President of the United States.
Before Misty Copeland came to the scene, ballet has always been seen as some sort of foreign concept to the African American community. It's not completely their faults; ballet has always been an activity for the elite, rich, and white. Blacks were seen as too built, or their feet were too big, or they didn't have the "right structure."
When Misty Copeland was promoted to the American Ballet Theater's principal dancer, young black girls finally felt like they were capable of enrolling in a ballet class while defying stereotypes. This Copeland age shows the importance of representation for the black community. Although it has made an impact, it is not enough—not while the Rockettes are still stuck in the bigoted past, not while dance shoes aren't available in an African American "nude," and not while there are still young black girls being scrutinized in the predominately white dance world.
So, what is the answer to this problem? How do we make young black girls feel like they are worthy enough to be ballerinas, and to receive other types of technical training?
Like I've said up and down this article, the key is representation.
The truth is that Misty Copeland is not the only black ballerina out there. Other black dancers need to come out and show younger dancers that they are capable, and that they are worthy enough to put on a leotard and tights and shine in a dance world where, the majority of the time, they will be the minority.
As well as this, the most talented and trained dancers in the world do not become good by staying in the dance class offered by their nearest YMCA for the rest of their lives. They become the dancers they are by joining the best studios and receiving the most qualified training. Therefore, more black dancers need to open dance studios and urge young African American dancers to join. These young girls need to feel wanted. They need to feel important. By being a part of a studio where others look like them while they not only receive dance lessons but life lessons as well, they will carry on the legacy and inspire other young black girls to become ballerinas.
Lastly, it is time that we stop telling these young girls that "ballet is only for white girls" while telling them that hip-hop is the only style they can do. Start telling these young girls that if they want to do hip-hop, then they need to do ballet, ta,p and jazz too. Make them feel like they can do anything, and make sure they are well-rounded.
To the young black girl who wants to do ballet, but doesn't think she's good enough: you are worthy. To the young black girl who wants to quit dance because no one looks like her at her studio: you are amazing. To the young black woman who wants to open a dance studio: you are qualified. To the young black girl who wants to be the next Misty Copeland: you are capable. To anyone who still believes ballet is not for black girls: you are wrong.
