BalletX dancers in Jennifer Archibald’s Exalt (2022), Photo by Skye Schmidt
[ID: A performance photo of six BalletX dancers, in three pairs, against a blue-lit background. Each pair has one dancer extending their leg forward, balanced on pointe, while being supported by their partner from behind. The costume colors are dark and metallic.]
A Complex Examination of “A Strange Loop”: Conformity and Commercialism in Black Art
I recently saw a production of Michael R. Jackson’s A Strange Loop at the Ahmanson Theatre in Los Angeles, California. Winner of the 2022 Tony Award for Best Musical, A Strange Loop attempts to subvert stereotypes, but in my experience of viewing, reinforces the ‘struggling artist’ and the overbearing, unsupportive Black family tropes, hyper-sexualizes the Black gay male, suggests Black folks are inherently burdened with trauma, and displays the portrayal of Black pain for the consumption of predominantly white audiences.
I left the theatre thinking about bell hooks’ Black Looks: Race and Representations, in which she addresses the commodification of Black culture. In the text, hooks explores how Black culture is consumed and how Black creators often feel pressured to present themselves in ways that are palatable to white audiences. She offers that Black creators sometimes adopt derogatory language or perform stereotypes to fit into white-dominated cultural spaces or markets. This act of “self-othering,” she asserts, can be seen as a survival strategy in a society where mainstream acceptance often requires conformity to stereotypes. It dawned on me that the lingering feeling I experienced upon leaving A Strange Loop was a questioning of how conformity impacts commercialism. Do Black creatives think they can only achieve success based on the expectations of white theatregoers? Do they believe their validation is dependent on the stereotypical lens through which art critics define and analyze their works? If the answer to any or both is in the affirmative, then undoubtedly, Black creatives may feel compelled to cooperate with a system that rewards such portrayals.
This reflection also led me to consider how choreographers’ works are discussed within the realm of dance criticism. Writers, whether Black or white, may feel pressured to pen pieces that reinforce stereotypic, confining, and reductive portrayals without fully considering the harmful impact of such depictions.
The Language of Exclusion: How Terminology Marginalizes Black Dance
Black choreographers and dancers face a double bind: they are often tokenized within the industry and asked to “perform their Blackness” in ways that conform to white expectations, yet their artistic contributions are rarely given the same critical consideration or respect as their white counterparts. The works of Black choreographers and the abilities of Black dancers are often written about devoid of cultural context and reduced to lazy and insulting terminologies like “primitive,” “exotic,” or “unrefined.”
In addition to marginalizing Black dance forms, these jargons suggest that Black dance forms are not worthy of serious artistic consideration but are instead suited for lower, less cultured audiences. Knowingly or not, these nomenclatures reinforce a racist hierarchy that places Black artistic expressions at the bottom, denying their artistic merit. This language, in an effort to uphold Eurocentric standards, denigrates the cultural articulation and sophistication of Black communities while ignoring the rich histories and social significances behind Black dance movements. Yet, some dance writers and critics continue to use offensive verbiage in their descriptions, evaluations, and analyses of dance works created by Black choreographers and performed by Black dancers.
Writers’ unwillingness to be non-binary and nuanced in their approach to dance criticism is indeed lazy and exclusive. This exclusion is not just a matter of oversight or self-proclaimed ignorance; it is a continuation of systemic oppression. The dominance of white narratives in dance writing means that Black artists are not only underrepresented but also misrepresented when their works are filtered through a lens that does not understand, value their cultural origins, or see the importance of carefully curating context around Black cultural sophistications. These misrepresentations not only perpetuate harmful stereotypes and reinforce biased standards in dance, but they are flat-out racist and harmful.
We must impede!
We must recognize and challenge how dance works are experienced, talked about, and written about by acknowledging the cultural significance of Black dance forms and citing Black choreographers, Black dancers, and Black culture appropriately.
The High Cost of Biased and Harmful Critiques
In a 2023 review of Jennifer Archibald’s Exalt for BalletX, Jeff Slayton wrote, “It is a dance that brought the Irvine Barclay Theatre audience to their feet with shouts of bravo, but again, it is the dancers who earned the applause and olés. Archibald’s choreography has a similar business to Alonzo King’s work for LINES Ballet Company and Dwight Rhoden’s for Complexions; two prominent and acclaimed choreographers of this era in contemporary dance. What I see too much of in these works is the complexity of the choreography. It is showmanship vs. art. This company is, however, more than worthwhile going to see, and I look forward to doing so soon. I do wish for more meat on those creative bones.”
This is an example of comparative diminishment, the undermining of Archibald’s contribution, a lack of constructive feedback, and overemphasis on “complexity.” While comparisons are common in reviews, Slayton compared Archibald’s choreography to that of prominent choreographers Alonzo King and Dwight Rhoden, grouping her exclusively with other Black choreographers. This is limiting and racially biased, implying that Black choreographers are only relevant in comparison to one another rather than within the broader context of contemporary dance, thereby reinforcing racial demarcations.
When Slayton credits the dancers and not Archibald’s choreography for the positive audience reaction—”it is the dancers who earned the applause and olés”—he dilutes her creative vision and skill, inferring that her choreography is secondary to the performers’ execution. This is particularly harmful as it devalues the recognition of Archibald’s artistic contribution, a common issue faced by Black artists in predominantly white spaces.
Mentioning that her work leans towards “showmanship vs. art” is unconstructive and biased as this criticism perpetuates a stereotype that Black creativity is less serious or less artistically valuable. Such a distinction undermines the legitimacy and depth of her work, reducing culturally rich expressions to mere entertainment akin to how ‘street dances’ such as breaking, krump, etc., are framed as lacking skill, training, and validity.
The phrase “I do wish for more meat on those creative bones” is not only vague but unhelpful and patronizing. It does not provide any feedback on how Archibald could improve her work or clearly articulate what Slayton found lacking. Instead, it dismisses her choreography without offering constructive insights, making the comment disparaging rather than productive.
Criticizing the complexity of Archibald’s choreography—”What I see too much of in these works is the complexity of the choreography”—implies that her work is overly complicated in a way that detracts from its artistic value. This proposes an unfairness against the intellectual and technical rigor in her work, which might not be similarly critiqued if the choreographer were white. It reinforces a narrative that Black artists’ work should be more accessible or simplified for white consumption, reducing their creative depth. I mean…. how dare Archibald defy her ‘primitive,’ ‘exotic,’ ‘unrefined’ destiny?!
Towards Inclusion and Respect
Harmful reviews do not exist in a vacuum; they are part of a larger system of exclusion in the arts. When critics fail to recognize or appreciate the sweat and value of Black artistry, they reinforce the systemic inequities that have historically marginalized Black artists’ voices. This propagates a cycle where only certain narratives and dance genres are deemed “worthy,” further entrenching racial and cultural biases within the industry and our larger culture. Injurious reviews also potentiate fewer opportunities, reduced audience interest, and a tarnished professional image that can be difficult to rebuild.
To all dance writers and critics, I implore you… cultivate cultural humility and deepen your understanding of the diverse cultural contexts from which dance works emerge.
This article appeared in the Fall 2024 issue of In Dance.
