R ight after I completed my MFA in 2014, I landed my first dance at a community college, and I was super excited for the opportunity to teach at the college level. I felt that this college would be a place where I could grow and collaborate with my colleagues. The students were driven and willing to put in the work of learning Hip Hop culture as well as movement, and I saw a future in which I could achieve my goals as a professor and mentor my students. During my first week on the job, a professor job. I was hired to teach a Hip Hop class
colleague asked if I thought I had been hired because I was Black, or because of my skills and expertise. Reeling from how explicitly racist the question was, I didn’t address it, and instead explained that my skill set included training and experience teaching multiple styles of dance as well as an MFA in Choreography and Performance. After several years teaching Hip Hop dance at that college, I realized that expanding to teach other tech- niques was not in the cards. There were always different reasons—everything from not enough studio space to sched- uling challenges. It became increasingly
clear that as the Black Hip Hop teacher, my opportunities would be limited. My presence there conveniently served to diversify the program, but only on superficial terms. Even though I was qualified and professionally trained to teach other styles of dance, my col- leagues continually referred to me as “the Hip Hop teacher.” I love teaching Hip Hop, but I resent the assumption that it’s the only dance form I can teach because I’m Black. I have had to deal with racist micro- aggressions and attempts to put me in a box as a Black dance professor and choreographer my entire career. The cumulative effect of having students
SUMMER 2021 in dance 27
|
|
rs r
. r
nce | May 2014 | dancersgroup.org
u n i f y s t r e n g t h e n amp l i f y u n i f y s t r e n g t h e n a p l i f y
44 Gough Street, Suite 201 San Francisco, CA 94103 www.dancersgroup.org
Made with FlippingBook - Online Brochure Maker