Auditioning to Dance for the NBA
Two hundred girls decked out in Brooklyn's latest fashion—ripped jeans, leather chokers and camouflage crops tops—wrapped around the outside of Long Island University–Brooklyn's auditorium while stretching and checking their reflection in their phones. I knew I was in the right place. I took a deep breath and hopped in line for the open call for the Brooklynettes Dance Team.
The Brooklynettes are the dance team for the NBA's Brooklyn Nets (get it?). The team was seeking out not only gifted dancers but well-spoken, intelligent women who could serve as ambassadors for the brand. Having just moved to Brooklyn and been a part of Temple University's Dance Team, I decided to try my luck.
At most auditions I went to this season, I wore a leotard and slicked my hair back in a bun with some light makeup on. But dance team auditions are much different than concert dance company auditions. Since you're constantly on camera and projected on a jumbo-tron, hair and makeup needs to be exaggerated. Fake eyelashes are a necessity—you have to master how to put them on and keep them on through hours of sweating. I did a natural smokey eye with a neutral lip and had my hair loose and flouncy so that the judges could see how I danced with it (yes, hairography is a thing!).
We were all required to wear shorts and a crop top, but the difficult part was standing out in the sea of beautiful girls and also looking like you blend well with the team's style. I decided on a black and white block-patterned top and black shorts to match the Nets' colors. My outfit looked similar to the 'Nette's dance uniforms.
Over the first two days, we learned an across-the-floor combination, a street jazz combination, a hip-hop combination and an athletic combination. I'd never heard of an athletic combination before, but the name says it all! It consisted of 17 different tricks like head-springs, kip-ups and splits. We must have gone down to the floor and come back up in one count about five different times. (Fitness gurus should start athletic combination classes...it's an insane workout!).
I made it through four rounds of cuts, ignoring the fact that my arms and legs felt like noodles.
By days three and four, there were 35 of us left and four spots to fill. The final round included interviews with the coach, marketing manager and three team captains. The panel asked to hear something interesting about me. Since I knew that they were looking for an answer that would parallel with the role as an empowered female brand ambassador, I told my story of how my career dreams changed from chemical engineering to pursuing dance and journalism.
The final performances included "one-on-one" performances, where two dancers with a similar look and dance style perform together in front of managers, directors, coaches and team captains. We were all given a white sports bra and black spandex shorts to wear so we looked identical. Yes, this part of the audition was intimidating. But I tried to focus more on enjoying dancing with my partner rather than competing against her.
The biggest challenge was waiting. When we began performing one-on-ones, those of us not performing couldn't practice on the sides—and I was one of the last to perform. A lot of the dancers sat down, but I wanted to stay focused so I remained standing. I tried to concentrate on each group, went through the counts in my head and did a few stretches and shakes in between groups to make sure I stayed warm. It was difficult to keep all of the material in my body while getting cold for an hour, and then exerting all of my energy in a two-minute burst.
By the final day, I knew that it came down to who completed the diverse look and fit the brand of this year's team. Although I didn't end up making it this year, I was proud of advancing all the way through to the final round, making professional connections and taking on this audition with confidence after only two weeks of living in New York City.
Now it's on to the next audition.
From the minute my journey as a dancer began at age 4, there were no other options of what I might do with my life.
Sure, I tried other "after-school activities." I tried desperately to master The Phantom of the Opera with my squeaky violin rental—a headache for my parents who paid for private Suzuki method lessons at our house. Constantly attempting famous show tunes on my violin, the effort was completely futile. I actually remember thinking, 'Surely this sheet music is wrong, this sounds nothing like the Phantom of the Opera.'
I even tried my hand at gymnastics. But when my mom's brilliant bribery of $100 for my first mastery of a kip or a back handspring didn't produce any results, we quickly threw in the towel.
When Miami City Ballet artistic director Lourdes Lopez was a principal dancer at New York City Ballet, she missed her opportunity to honor Jerome Robbins onstage. "Every time there was a celebration for Jerry, I was either injured or had just retired," says Lopez. "I was never able to publicly thank him onstage for all that he taught us and the beauty he left us."
But when Lopez was planning MCB's Jerome Robbins Celebration for the 100th anniversary of the legend's birth, she saw an opportunity. She asked the Robbins Trust to allow her to perform the Ringmaster in Robbins' Circus Polka, a role the choreographer originated himself.
Growing up in inner city Rochester, NY, Aesha Ash was just one of the neighborhood kids. She'd imagine people driving by, judging her by her black skin.
"They'd never know that I was dreaming of becoming a professional ballet dancer. No one would think, Some day she's going to make it into New York City Ballet," says Ash.
After an inspiring career at NYCB, Béjart's Ballet Lausanne and LINES, the January 2006 Dance Magazine cover star—one of our 25 to Watch that year—is no longer performing. But she's determined to use her dance background to change the stereotypes and misconceptions that people—including black people—have about women of color. "I want to show it's okay to embrace our softer side, and let the world know we're multidimensional," says Ash.
Aesha Ash in Richmond, CA. PC Renee Scott via swandreamsproject.org
In 2011, she launched the Swan Dreams Project to inspire kids in the community she grew up in. The original idea was to post images of herself in a tutu all over Rochester. "I remember growing up and in the bodega you'd see images of girls in bikinis on motorbikes," says Ash. "I wanted to replace those with photos that show women of color in a different light."
She knew the power imagery can have: She still remembers what it felt like as a student at the School of American Ballet to see a photo of black ballet dancer Andrea Long. "That image was everything on days when I was feeling disenchanted. I'd see that picture of her, and know that the struggles I was going through, she went through them, too."
Ash soon realized she didn't have the budget to fund her original plan ("I never realized how expensive a bus stop advertisement is!"). But she's made the images available through an online store, and often simply gives away prints at her own expense to schools and students in need of some inspiration.
Any proceeds she makes from the sales go directly to other organizations that are working to expand ballet in diverse communities. One large donation even led to a pointe shoe fund at dancer Robyn Gardenhire's City Ballet of Los Angeles school—and it helped one dancer who had quit ballet because of the expense come back to class.
Now a mother of two in San Jose, CA, Ash will also start teaching a free after-school ballet class at her daughter's public school next month. "I recently taught at Girls Inc. in Oakland, and one of the little black girls said, 'Are you the ballet teacher?' She just stood there, staring at me with her mouth open, like a unicorn had just walked into the room," Ash says. "You never know the impact you can have just by being a presence."
Ever find yourself lusting after that six o'clock penché, or a développé that will reach your nose? You're not alone. The eye is naturally drawn to the end points of a movement, and, in dance, that often translates to the highest extension.
But what if you're born without extreme, Instagram-worthy lines? It's a matter of developing a laser focus on alignment as well as strengthening and stretching with better body mechanics in mind.
From coast to coast, choreographers have spent the first year of Donald Trump's presidency responding to the impact of his election and what it means for them as artists.
New York City's Dante Brown used rubber Trump masks in his work Package (revamped), which examines the monstrosities of power.
A video titled "Dancers vs. Trump Quotes" went viral last summer, showing dancers taking Trump's "locker-room" talk to task.
Alexis Convento, lead curator of the New York City–based Current Sessions, dedicated a whole program to the concept of resistance, while educator and interdisciplinary artist Jill Sigman has initiated a workshop called "Body Politic, Somatic Selves," as a space for movement research around questions of support, activism and solidarity.
In San Francisco, choreographer Margaret Jenkins facilitated a panel of artists about the role of activism within their work.
When London-based perfume company The Beautiful Mind Series was looking for a collaborator for their next scent, they skipped the usual celebrity set and brought in prima ballerina Polina Semionova instead. "I was fascinated by what goes on in the mind of a great dancer," perfumer Geza Schoen said in a press release. Semionova's ballet-inspired scent, Precision & Grace, celebrates the intelligence and beauty behind her craft.
Courtesy of The Beautiful Mind Series
The ever-so-busy Kyle Abraham is back in New York City for a brief visit with his company Abraham.In.Motion as they prepare for an exciting spring season of new endeavors with some surprising guests. The company will be debuting a new program at The Joyce Theater on May 1, that will include two new pieces from Abraham, restaged works by Doug Varone and Bebe Miller, and a world premiere from Andrea Miller. Talk about an exciting line-up!
We caught up with Abraham during a recent rehearsal where he revealed what he is tired of hearing in the dance community.
Choreographer Tero Saarinen has a proclivity for the peculiar—and for epic orchestral music. That he should be commissioned by the Los Angeles Philharmonic to create a new dance work to accompany the U.S. premiere of Bernd Alois Zimmermann's Cello Concerto en forme de pas de trois only makes sense. Zimmermann's eerie, difficult-to-classify composition falls squarely in Saarinen's wheelhouse. Walt Disney Concert Hall, Jan. 19–21. laphil.com.
Two competition routines are equal in technical proficiency, artistry and choreography. One consists of all girls, the other includes a boy. Guess which takes home first prize?
If you guessed the one with the boy, you may be privy to an unspoken and much-debated phenomenon in the competition dance world: The Boy Factor. According to The Boy Factor, a competitive piece is more likely to win if there's a boy in it.
"If it's all technically equal and one group is all girls and the other group has a boy, the one with the boy will win," says Rysa Childress, owner of All Star Studios in Forest Hills, New York. "Boy soloists are sometimes scored higher than more technically proficient girls because if a boy has good stage presence, we let him slide," says an anonymous competition judge. "And most of the feedback will be for the boy."
I'll never forget something Roberto Bolle once told me when I was interviewing him about his workout regimen: Talking about how much he loved to swim, he said, "I would love to go in the Italian sea, but I am too well-known there to show up in my suit."
It always amused and kinda shocked me that a ballet dancer could reach that level of fame. But it's true: In his native Italy, Bolle is a bonafide celerity.