'They don't fail, ballet failed them'
5 questions for journalist and ballet enthusiast/critic Chloe Angyal
One of my strongest memories as a kid was a moment during each one of my weekly ballet classes where Ms. Barbara (who I could draw for you right now in perfect detail) would announce that it was time for “Pikes Peak Center.” This was the performance art space in my hometown of Colorado Springs, a place that would probably not be all that impressive to adult me, but to child me, it was the BIG TIME. “Pikes Peak Center” during ballet class meant that all of us would slide our little butts down the mirror and sit while one girl got to choose a scarf of her favorite color and dance for a few minutes while all eyes were on her. A moment of total attention. It terrified and thrilled me.
Reading my friend Chloe Angyal’s new book, Turning Pointe, reminded me of the depth of ballet’s place in our public and personal psyche. Though I was never a very serious dancer (I never even made it to pointe), I learned something about my body, about creativity, about friendship, about femaleness, in those classes. In my case, most of it was remarkably positive, I think largely because Ms. Barbara was such a tremendous human, but I was one of the lucky ones. So many have been so damaged by ballet’s culture. Chloe, who loves the art deeply, writes from that love, with an admirable fierceness.
I’ve known Chloe since she was basically a baby, so I’m both big sister-style proud of her, and intellectually inspired by how she took this subject and made it so sweeping and urgent. Go Chlo!
Courtney Martin: Why do you love ballet so much? Can you describe the attraction for those who have never danced or even watched a performance?
Chloe Angyal: When I watch ballet, I’m deeply moved by the knowledge of how many thousands of people had to decide that ballet was worth devoting their time and talent to in order to make this very performance possible. All the dancers and their teachers, of course, but also all the people you don't see, like the people who make pointe shoes by hand and the people who sew sequins onto tutus and the people who compose music and the people who write the choreography down in notation so it won't be lost to time. It makes me feel the way I feel when I step inside a cathedral, which is almost overwhelmed by what humans can do when they act collectively to make and preserve something beautiful and technically astounding. I've barely seen live dance in the last 18 months, and I don't know if I’ll still feel that when I go back to it, because I spent those 18 months writing a 304-page book about all the things that are wrong with ballet, and the very real human costs of those shortcomings. So I hope I can hold on to that awe and respect, but I know that if I do, it will be tempered now.
Some of the critiques you lay out--sexism, classism, body shape and size discrimination--seem quite unique to ballet, among dance forms. What would you say to someone who says, "Why not just give up on ballet and look to other dance forms like modern, jazz, tap etc. that are known for being more inclusive?" I ask, not only because it's interesting in and of itself, but also because I think a lot of us are trying to figure out whether to transform or abandon certain institutions right now.
Lots of people do give up on ballet, and take their talents to other dance forms, where their talents are welcome and they’re allowed to develop their artistry. That’s a huge loss for ballet, which misses out on their talents and, with every departing dancer, drags itself further away from the thriving, relevant future it could have if it made space for everyone. And in a lot of cases it’s a loss for those dancers, too, who will always live with the knowledge that this art form they loved rejected them for completely arbitrary reasons. I think a lot of those people walk around telling themselves a story that’s about their failure: I gave up on ballet, I failed. When in reality, ballet gave up on them. They didn’t fail, ballet failed them.
You write, "Ballet is at a turning point. Whether it heads backward, enthralled by a narrow vision of a broken past, or finds the courage to imagine a more just and beautiful future, is the question of this book." White people, and White men, who also dominate so much of what shapes ballet even now, give us a lot to be cynical about. How hopeful are you, really?
It varies from day to day. I’ve been really heartened by the reception of this book among younger dancers, former dancers, and among teachers of all ages. I know there are people out there who want to make ballet better and are willing to take risks to do that. But I also know that the ballet world, generally speaking, is deeply conservative and attached to the status quo. That’s generally not a mindset that’s receptive to calls for big structural change.
You said that one of the most common questions you got while writing this book was, "Would you let your own kid do ballet?" You don't yet have kids, but you say that you want to be able to say YES. You write: "Ballet should be a place where children learn the power, grace, and beauty of their own bodies, and the value of their own minds and creative energies." I love that vision so much. That's what I want for my girls. How would you--on a very practical level--evaluate whether a particular class or school of ballet embodies those qualities before throwing your kid in the mix?
I’d talk to parents whose kids are already enrolled there, especially those parents who don’t have dance backgrounds themselves. One thing I found while writing this book - working with an editor who didn’t know much about the dance world, while socially isolated with a fiance who also didn’t grow up in the dance world - is that outsiders can provide you with a lot of valuable information. Things that insiders take for granted are new and notable to outsiders. I'd ask those parents how dance classes make their kids feel: do they feel listened to? Like they can ask questions or tell the teacher when something doesn’t feel good? And then I'd want to know things about the school’s pedagogy, beyond ballet technique. Like, are the dancers encouraged to rest and taught why resting matters? Are they spoken to in gender neutral, body-positive language? Are they learning all kinds of dance styles, and are they learning that all dance styles are equally important? Are they learning from teachers of color? Are they given a roughly equal amount of attention regardless of their gender, or are the girls getting the message that boys in ballet are special?
You write a lot about the generational work at play here--that the youngest dancers are the ones pushing the whole tradition to evolve. What are you learning from young dancers that is making you feel joyously behind the curve?
There are older dancers and activists and artists doing that, too! I use the term “generation” loosely, because while there are lots of young people doing this work, simply by virtue of being young they are new to it, and there are lots of people who came before them who deserve credit for being way ahead of the curve. I’m also really wary of the idea that the youth will save us, which is a common attitude towards other big, collective problems, like gun violence and the existential threat that is climate change. It takes all of us to save us. But I feel behind the curve when I see younger dancers talking about a truly gender neutral future for ballet, because that’s going to take new technique and new choreography and new training regimens and new everything, and my brain can’t conjure it all right now. But I know they can, and I trust them.
In honor of Chloe, we will be donating to STEM From Dance.
Also, a Juneteenth reading rec: How the Word is Passed by Clint Smith. It’s a profound exploration of the ways in which we understand and memorialize our own shared American history. Look out for a Q&A with Clint soon. (We share a brilliant editor!)
And finally, don’t miss one of my favorite Solvers conversations I had: organizer and writer Garrett Bucks on White people’s role in fighting racism. (You might remember our correspondence during the pandemic about pod schools and privatization.)