Hello, good readers —
Last week, I had a piece published at Glamour, as part of their Love Letters series. This installment was Love Letters to Misty Copeland, and it was one of the most galvanizing things I’ve reported in a long time. Among others, I got to talk to principal dancers who have come up under Misty at American Ballet Theatre, to dance teachers who wish they’d had someone like her to look up to when they were training, and to dance students who are inspired by the example she sets for young dancers and especially Black girl dancers.
One dancer, who’s in the corps de ballet at Pacific Northwest Ballet (their first Black woman hire in a decade) remembers what it felt like, as a child in a bookstore, to find a photo of Misty in a book about ABT. She ripped the page out of the book and she still has it - she sent me a photo of her holding it. I wouldn’t usually condone ripping a page out of a book in a store, but I’ve also never written anything that inspiring, so you know what, do your thing.
This year has been one that has made cynicism, skepticism, and reflexive criticism feel like the path of least resistance, a rational response even. With so much bad news swirling around you, it can feel foolish to get excited about good news, like you’re asking to be lied to or hoodwinked or let down at the very last moment. Hardening yourself feels smart, wise, like the best way to prepare yourself. One of the most difficult things I’ve tried to do this year is to stay soft. Stay open to good news, to cheesy moments, give in to the engineered dopamine hits of books or movies or songs that are just trying to make you feel unquestioned pleasure. Resist the urge to turn into a walking emotional callus. Stay squishy, if you can.
This story hit me right in the squishy. I cried multiple times doing the interviews for this piece (god bless phone interviews, truly, no source needs to see that from me). I interviewed the two girls you might recognize from this viral photo from last summer, Kennedy George and Ava Holloway, who along with two of their classmates at their Virginia dance school, founded an organization called Brown Ballerinas for Change. They’ve been doing community outreach and raising money for ballet scholarships and turning their love for ballet into an engine of activism. They’re all between the ages of 14 and 17.
Despite my best efforts at cynicism and skeptical analysis, if I find myself talking to young women — girls, really — who have looked at the world around them and seen an injustice, and responded with action and enthusiasm, I can’t help but feel thrilled and inspired. And, on some level, reassured. I resist the idea that young people will save us, because it will take all of us to save us, and also, I love watching young people, especially young women, realize that they are powerful and have meaningful things to say. Even my most devoted cynical instincts don’t stand a chance against that.
You can read the story here. I would say you can read the full story, but the truth is that I ended up with way more material than we could use in the final edit. So, lots of interesting things got cut and thrown away, or in ballet terms, coupé and jeté.
Like this, from American Ballet Theatre principal dancer Gabe Stone Shayer:
[Misty’s] really cool. I don’t want to pop anyone’s bubbles because she’s a princess in so many young girls’ eyes, but she’s such a cool, down-to-earth person, too, which is not bad to hear or know, but it’s funny how down-to-earth she is. She knows how to have a good time and joke around and do funny weird things in the hallways. We dance like no one’s watching, break it down and try to sing Lauryn Hill.
And this, from Brandee Greene, who teaches ballet to Ava and Kennedy and the other co-founders of BBFC:
As a teacher, Misty Copeland has given a refreshing take: you can start late and be A1 in the game. It helps when I want to motivate students who either start late or start a particular genre late. I always remind them that Misty Copeland started ballet late, as a teenager or a pre-teen. Then she studied hard, worked hard, and you can do the same. As a teacher it’s very refreshing.
When I look at her, whenever she performs, it looks effortless, but she also reminds you that she trains hard. She pushes hard. Outside of her advocacy, she reminds me that dance is a sport, but she’s got this flawless artistry that you want to see in a dancer, from the muscle tone to the technique to the extensions. She exemplifies great artistry as a dancer professionally, and also for the girls that don’t go professional but who train hard. I wish when I was dancing in my teens and pre-teens that I had someone who looked like me.
And this, from TaKiyah Wallace, a ballet mom and founder of Brown Girls Do Ballet:
She’s a really genuine person, and I think people need to know that. Dancers often get a rap for not being personable, because they light up on stage. A lot of dancers are introverts naturally, and they become these extroverted personalities on stage, but I want people to know that she really is a genuine person. She’s already doing great things and I know she’ll continue to do great things.
I think there’s a huge movement happening on the heels of Misty, using dance and activism collectively. Dancers who are letting each other know that it’s okay to use your voice and your dancing at the same time. Which I think is a beautiful thing.
That’s it’s from me this week. A few book notes before I go:
As always, you can still pre-order Turning Pointe, which is just 7 weeks away from its pub date now
You can also get excited about some other forthcoming ballet books, like Swan Dive: The Making of a Rogue Ballerina by New York City Ballet soloist Georgina Pazcoguin, and The Ballerina Mindset: How to Protect Your Mental Health While Striving for Excellence, by City Ballet principal dancer Megan Fairchild, both of whom I interviewed for Turning Pointe.
If you’re a ballet teacher or a ballet parent, you can book a free virtual Turning Pointe event at your local dance school by using this form.
Thanks, as always for reading. Stay squishy,
Chloe.