Life in Motion: An Unlikely Ballerina (33 page)

I’m finally running.

I can more easily dismiss critiques when I know I have achieved visible improvement in whatever move or step I’ve attempted to fine-tune. I know at that point that I’ve done what I can do, and I simply can’t please everyone. It is enough for me to make my best effort at achieving the perfection that is nearly impossible to attain, but that is ever the goal of a professional ballerina.

BEFORE PULLING OUT OF
the Met season, and throughout my recovery, I was able to take advantage of the many amazing opportunities that have come my way beyond ABT’s stage. I shot a calendar that celebrated ballet, with the wonderful photographer Gregg Delman. I became one of several athletes and artists featured in a series of commercials for Diet Dr Pepper. I have continued to hold master classes for budding ballerinas, and I’m an ambassador for the Boys and Girls Club, my other childhood home.

My extracurricular endeavors, beyond ballet or ABT, have been misunderstood by some. I also know that there are many within the ballet world who do not approve of my mainstream appeal or my passion to bring ballet to the masses and especially to underprivileged communities. Like that blogger who
spoke negatively about my performances with Prince, as well as some of my other endeavors, I get criticized for “letting people in.” It’s almost as if ballet is this exclusive secret society that’s terrified of change, even as it constantly looks for a way to stay relevant and alive. But I want everyone to feel that they could be a part of my world, if they want to be.

My goal has been to share ballet with an audience that might otherwise not know or appreciate it. Of course, not every budding dancer will be fortunate enough to have a Liz Cantine as her drill instructor, spotting her potential, or a Cindy who takes her expertise to a working-class neighborhood, then offers a free education to the most ambitious talents. But that doesn’t mean we can’t make a start. Recently, I helped facilitate the founding of ABT’s Project Plié, a partnership between the company and the Boys and Girls Clubs of America that will formalize the process that introduced me to ballet, bringing ABT-trained teachers to clubs across the country to scout for talented kids who might otherwise never set foot on a stage. They’ll learn history and dance theory, and be provided with scholarships to hone their talents. And as the figurehead for the program, I’ll get to embody the incredible symbolism that being different can stand for. I am different and I accept it. I’m aware of the power that it holds in opening doors for others who are underprivileged or underrepresented—it’s a power that goes far beyond me or any of my individual achievements.

I am not just trying to shepherd and mentor new dancers. I also feel deeply that there is a huge, untapped audience of ballet viewers. And among disadvantaged children, or children of color who are often not exposed to this art form, I believe that
ballet provides much to learn. Studies show that dancers have a very high rate of success in any endeavor they pursue because of the poise and discipline, both physical and mental, that they must develop practicing their craft. Those are valuable attributes for anyone to possess. But children cannot develop them if they are not exposed to dance. I am willing to carry that message and pass on those lessons even as I realize I may not see immediate change in my lifetime.

But when all is said and done, it is standing on the stage, articulating ballet’s majesty, that is and has always been my first and strongest love.

I LOVE THAT IMAGE
of the Firebird.

It exemplifies the most joyful moments in the life of a dancer. The exhilaration of performance, the ecstasy of losing yourself in movement. But those moments are fleeting. In between, there are hours of grueling practice, and days, weeks, even months of despair when injuries or other problems keep you from performing your best. Or from dancing at all.

When I was recuperating from my shin injury, I had a great deal of time for reflection. I often contemplated whether or not I would—or should—dance again. Did I have a different path and purpose going forward? Perhaps I had gone as far as I could, and from now on, my role would be to encourage and inspire as a mentor rather than as a dancer.

But now that I’m back onstage, having grown in ways I didn’t realize were possible, I know that I’m here to do both.

No matter how many hours I devote to practice, no matter
how much of my life I give to ballet, the work never stops. Every dancer knows that there will always be someone younger and better waiting in the wings to take her place. The older you get, the less you are physically capable of. Yet age and experience give your art depth and complexity, and I am so excited to continue to grow and explore. It’s all about finding that balance.

I still worry, far more than I should, about what the ballet world thinks of me—whether I will ever be accepted and seen as the talent I was once praised for as a prodigy, a well-rounded artist deserving of respect. Or will I forever be “the black ballerina,” an oddity who doesn’t quite compare?

But in my moments of clarity I envision all those people whose lives have been touched by my story and my accomplishments so far, who upon seeing my journey know that you can start late, look different, be uncertain, and still succeed.

My fears are that it could be another two decades before another black woman is in the position that I hold with an elite ballet company. That if I don’t rise to principal, people will feel I have failed them.

I still want it. To be a principal dancer with ABT, to be Nikiya in
La Bayadère,
Juliet to a soaring Romeo, Odette and Odile in
Swan Lake,
and Giselle. But whether or not I become the first female African American principal dancer in an elite company, I know that I’ve had an impact by having a voice and sharing my story.

There’s another image of the Firebird that I love: how she emerges triumphant, and then soars into the sky, like the phoenix rising from the ashes.

I’ve come so far from that first class I took in my baggy
gym clothes. I know that by being here, for seventeen years, in this rarefied, difficult, elitist, beautiful world, I have made my mark in history and ballet. I will forever fight, performing as if it’s my last show.

And I will love every minute of it.

The Copeland clan (
clockwise from top left
): Doug Jr., Chris, Erica, and me

My very first time on pointe, which Cindy was confident (and quick) enough to capture on film.

A
pas de deux
class at Cindy’s studio. In the background, you can see Jason—this was one of the days he decided to come to class.

Dancing with Ashley Ellis. This was from my first week at Lauridsen, when we were so fascinated by our similarities. We were like sisters—at ABT, they called her “the white Misty.”

INSET: The Bradleys and me. Proof that I was never different to them, just a part of the family.

Lola’s warm heart. She was so nurturing and natural in her affection from the start.