The author, Courtney Henry, right. Photo by Elena Lekhova
To my fellow long-limbed dancers,
Almost every month, I receive a letter from an aspiring ballerina about her struggles as the tallest girl in the class. While growing up and peaking at six feet tall (in flat shoes), I used to have these very same insecurities.
Freelancing throughout Europe now, away from the safety net of Alonzo King LINES Ballet, I was recently met with overt commentary on my six foot frame during a ballet casting.
"But you're taller than the tallest girl we've ever had in this role!" "Gosh, you're just stunning, I just don't know what to do!" "I'm not sure the costume will be long enough...but you're just so beautiful."
Awkwardly grinning/gritting my teeth, trying to decipher whether I was being complimented or ostracized, I decided that no matter the outcome, a job that otherizes instead of celebrates isn't worth it. I've spent too many years loving myself fiercely to be reduced to someone else's limitations.
Angela Sterling, courtesy Henry
So, my elongated friends, I write this love letter today to remind you that the acceptance of your height can only start with you. This must happen before you even walk into the dance studio. Before the mirrors warp your body image, before the inevitable comparison to your peers.
In private, embrace how unique and "above average" you are (who wants to be average anyway?) Say it out loud to yourself, or write it down if that feels right. Most importantly, believe it. It might be difficult at first, even feel a little silly.
What helped me was to look for taller women—including some outside of dance—who inspire me. I have an arsenal of abolitionists, athletes, Goddesses from all over the world who demonstrate unapologetic pride in who they are. Find your own and imitate them, channel their essence until it starts to rub off on you.
I found that once I stopped shrinking, people stopped commenting on my height so frequently.
Henry David Thoreau once wrote, "The question is not what you look at, but what you see." Feet considered too big actually have more surface area to extend the line; arms hanging well past the hips have all the more power to cut through space and conjure flight.
How lucky are you to have more to work with? There's more to feel, more nerve endings to ignite, more surface to tell the story on.
I personally love being taller because it means I'm that much closer to the heavens. What is dance, ballet, pointework, but a subconscious striving for ascension a.k.a. extension. I feel more divinely connected with my head this high in the sky!
Of course, you need strength to maintain control of all this fabulous canvas. This takes focus, possibly more than your peers.
If you're like me or most of the other tall dancers I know, fluid, luscious movement comes easily. The challenge is in how to work on speed, efficiency and precision. When I was younger, training in modern dance styles like Horton helped me compact when needed. Now cross-training helps do the trick.
Yes, there is more of you to control but also just as much to let go. There is power in that big body. Let your trunk be the engine and move those hips through space. If you are respecting the musicality and honoring the technique, I promise your audacity to fully "be" will only inspire your peers. (Even if they are afraid to admit it!)
So never shrink, dear ones. Never be afraid of taking up too much space. And know that you shall never have to fold your wings to walk through doors that are meant for you.
Pacific Northwest Ballet principals Rachel Foster and Jonathan Porretta took their final curtain call on June 9, 2019. Photo by Lindsay Thomas, Courtesy PNB
We all know dance careers are temporary. But this season, it feels like we're saying goodbye to more stars than usual.
Many have turned to social media to share their last curtain calls, thoughts on what it feels like to say farewell to performing, and insights into the ways that dancing has made them who they are. After years of dedicating your life to the studio and stage, the decision to stop dancing is always an emotional one. Each dancer handles it in their own way—whether that means cheekily admitting to having an existential crisis, or simply leaving with no regrets about what you did for love.
We will miss these dancers' performances, but can't wait to see what awaits each in their next chapters.
A previous lab cycle. Photo by Evan Zimmerman/MurphyMade, Courtesy RRR Creative
Choreographic incubator Broadway Dance Lab has recently been rechristened Dance Lab New York. "I found the nomenclature of 'Broadway' was actually a type of glass ceiling to the organization," says choreographer Josh Prince, who founded the nonprofit in 2012.