In Part 1, I tracked the historical progression of ballet from its beginnings in the courts of Europe, in order to provide context for my quest to address current concerns of racism and inequality. I know why we are here from a historical perspective, but what else is currently preventing inclusion? And what steps can be taken to remove these blocks to progress, so that we can move faster towards being a diverse and representative art form? To paraphrase author Toni Cade Bambara, what can I do as an artist to make this revolution irresistible?
Beyond ballet’s aristocratic foundation, another obstacle to its diversification is its cost. Academics from Northwestern and Duke published research earlier this year (pre-pandemic) indicating that, in the United States, the average black family with children holds just one cent of wealth, and Latinx families eight cents of wealth, for every dollar of wealth that the average white family with children holds. Native American wealth hasn’t even been measured in the last 20 years, and in 2000 their median net worth was $5,700.
While ballet may no longer be the domain of royalty, training to be a professional dancer is still a fairly elite pastime due to the expenses involved. Beyond lessons at a local studio or school (the cost of which varies depending on such factors as location, faculty, affiliation with a professional company, etc.), students with professional aspirations typically begin intensive summer training programs during their early teens. These can cost several thousand dollars per dancer for tuition, housing, food, and travel each summer. Then there are the tights, leotards, and shoes needed for classes; pointe shoes alone cost around $100 per pair, and they may last only a few weeks. Additional costs can include audition fees, competition or performance fees, and costume fees, not to mention endless supplies of bobby pins, hairspray, and stage makeup. Following high school, ballet dancers don’t typically go straight into a company job; instead they usually have to spend a few years in a professional training program or opt for a university dance program – and neither of those are inexpensive either.
There are scholarships available at all levels, but typically these are for tuition only, and tend to skew in favor of males, since there are far fewer of them in dance. And quite often, scholarships are awarded based on talent rather than actual financial need – and how are talented kids identified for scholarships if they can’t afford to even walk through the door? There are outreach programs available in some communities that provide opportunities for kids from lower socio-economic levels – Misty Copeland’s discovery via a Boys & Girls Club dance program is a well-known example – but the high costs involved in professional ballet training mean that only a few, extraordinarily talented, students will have those expenses covered by an organization or a donor for an extended period of time.
That brings me to the current model in the U.S. for non-profit arts funding. Due to limited government support – the National Endowment for the Arts has never been allocated more than $175 million (and that in 1992; 2019’s allocation was $155 million) – arts organizations rely heavily on private donations for funding. Any person or entity giving large amounts of money has some power and influence over how their donation is used, and if they aren’t happy with some aspect of the organization, can threaten to withdraw their financial support. On the earned income side of the equation, it’s about programming that will bring in large, paying audiences. This is why every ballet company does The Nutcracker each year, regardless of its obvious cultural insensitivities; it is the best-selling production of the season, by far, for everyone. So, overall, this rather shaky revenue dynamic lends itself to artistic choices that typically are not revolutionary or high-risk – thus it’s 2015 before Misty Copeland dances the role of the Swan Queen in American Ballet Theatre’s Swan Lake and it’s 2019 before New York City Ballet casts a black Clara in The Nutcracker.
Solving the money part of this equation in our unequal society will not be easy, although I think this moment in time provides us with an opportunity to rethink our country’s priorities and make a push for significant changes. Just as defunding the police and reallocating some of those resources into social services more appropriate to the needs of our communities and citizens has become a possibility that we are now willing to consider and discuss, perhaps artists should be taking this time – especially since the performing arts are being hit particularly hard by this virus – to lobby for what some might consider radical policy changes, such as reallocating resources to provide much more government funding for the arts, which pours billions of dollars into the country’s economy each year; such as providing living wages and guaranteed basic income for all.
I’ve heard the argument that classical ballet is dying, and I’m sure there are people that think it should, from the perspective of dismantling racist systems. But because I love the art form, and believe that dance, in all its genres, can be a unifying force, I’d like to see it continue to evolve. But, if ballet is to stay relevant, it’s going to have to progress faster. Information moves extremely quickly now in our technologically-advanced world, which causes societal shifts to happen ever more rapidly. Ballet cannot take a century to transform into its next iteration – our artists and leaders must take this opportunity now to pursue the revolutionary choices needed to make ballet more representative and inclusive. The ballet stage needs to be seen as a diverse space, not a white space with the occasional outlier. Ballet should start telling more stories about people of color, so that black and brown dancers can dance in representation, not in assimilation. Traditional expectations must be upended to create new ones.
If I am asking for revolutionary choices from others in my field, I must ask it of myself as well. But, I feel that my sphere of influence is very small – I don’t currently have a major organization I’m involved with, or a leadership title, or a performance platform to provide my words and my work with far-reaching legitimacy. However, I do have almost 50 years of experience in the dance world, and interestingly, my corner of it has mostly been somewhat diverse and inclusive:
- I grew up in Western Oklahoma dancing with two other girls my age that were pretty serious about ballet; one was African American and the other was Native American, and we were the only three in our class to dance all the way through high school together.
- Our teacher, Candace Jones Smalley, cast a black Clara in her Nutcracker, in 1983.
- When I was the owner/director of the studio, I worked with a local educator that had started an after-school tutoring program for disadvantaged, primarily black, children in our small town to establish a scholarship program for interested students to attend ballet lessons. The first few years, I fully funded it myself – waiving tuition and providing uniforms for between 6-10 students each year – until we found a sponsor to cover the dance attire. Three of these young dancers ended up becoming company members of Western Oklahoma Ballet Theatre, one of them the Snow Queen in my Nutcracker.
- I taught ballet for AileyCamp New York for three years, working with 100 black and brown – and talented – students each summer, along with a diverse, amazing teaching staff.
- When I worked for Oklahoma City Ballet, its outreach programs through the Boys and Girls Club and the public schools helped identify disadvantaged students to train at the school on scholarship. There were also dancers of color (albeit all male) in the professional company, including a Principal Dancer.
Until recently, I hadn’t stopped to think how unusual these experiences, particularly the early ones, were. But reflecting on them has helped me understand that maybe my contributions to this revolution don’t have to be grand and majestic, they just have to be in service to my ideals:
- I can voice my belief that the ballet world is capable of embracing diversity, in both its dancers and its artistic content.
- I can look for and create opportunities to expand inclusion and representation for people of color in ballet.
- I can model anti-racist, inclusionary behavior so that every space I am in is seen as a safe and supportive environment.
- I can use my skills as a teacher to help all students – regardless of skin color or background or professional aspirations – learn this challenging art form and express themselves through it.
- I can use my writing to try and persuade others to join me in identifying their own ways to make this revolution irresistible.
We have seen ballet evolve, influenced by other revolutions and changing societal norms. I am hopeful it has the capacity to do so again…and hope, I think, is a necessary ingredient for a successful revolution. Hope, and artists that make revolution irresistible.
Penny Askew 