photo: Saksham Gangwar
For purposes of this article, I center myself as a settler, South Asian and cisgender female. For many artist-educators such as myself, the love of music and dance runs deep. Dance is a means of self-expression when words fail; the encrypter of emotions that we hold deep inside our bodies that no language could ever translate. It is an innate understanding, that unreservedly lets our inner resonances funnel to the surface with clear abandon. In this article, I will examine the systematic barriers that have plagued my own dance career; and how the continued centering of whiteness in Ontario dance spheres adversely affects opportunities for students.
My love of dance began by simply loving a dance style that was different, othered and foreign to those around me. This dance that defined my culture, heritage and musical beginnings, was the very core of me. The form, in which my self-expression manifested itself however, was subjected to scrutiny and hierarchy from an early age. Unbeknownst to me, there was a right way to become a recognized dancer in Canada. The right way was rooted in white supremacy culture, or the “...ideology that white people and [their] ideas, thoughts, beliefs, and actions…are superior to those of People of Color” (Truss pg 1). This played out in my world of dance, whereby certain bodies and traditions were privileged over the other.
As I learned early in life, Eurocentric dance styles were privileged above all others in this part of the world, and set the parameters for what was considered as acceptable dance. A system outside of my understanding determined what was good for me; and where I could step and where I could not - and there was no clear way around it. Jones and Oktun describe this colonial construct as “...one right way to do things, [where] once people are introduced to the right way, they will see the light and adopt it” (Jones & Oktun p.31). In my case, the only way to breach any imposed barriers was to squeeze myself into a predetermined dance mold that could never hold my story, history or ancestry. This paternalism played out where “those with power…[believed] they [were] capable of making decisions for and in the interests of those without power” (Jones & Oktun pg 31). This would ultimately shrink my very voice and artistic choices. Being Canadian born was not enough. Having a lifetime of dance training was not enough; even if it was on Canadian soil, and at Canadian based institutions.
At the age of four, my dance training began in Kandyan Dance (Sri Lankan classical dance form). For years, I did training through local community dance schools, and performed on stage and on television. My teachers, Hema Perera and Deepa Hettige, while renowned in Sri Lankan Arts circles, were not known to the general Canadian population. Summer vacation meant performing with their Kandyan dance troupes to new and interesting places both locally and within the province. When I reflect with fondness of those days, the sounds of the Geta Bera drum still ring in my ears: their beat became my very heartbeat, and can still stop me dead in my tracks. When school would begin in the Fall, like many other first generation students, we would learn to code-switch our lives back to accepted Westernized rhythms, hiding our artistic selves within our communities, far away from any Eurocentric gaze.
On the insistence from my classroom teacher, my parents decided to enroll me in beginner Ballet and Jazz. This was their well-meaning effort to keep their kids well-rounded and Canadian enough. However, these dance styles just did not resonate with me. I could not find the soul behind them, and could not connect with their foreign rhythms the way I did with Kandyan dance. To this day, I naturally stand with outward pointing feet and knees in Mandiya (Kandyan first position). Dance became ingrained in my very body. It never left me, even though I was forced to leave it.
When the time came to apply to post-secondary schooling, my passion to pursue dance was doused. I applied to several Ontario University dance programs. However at the time, the answer was always the same: my dance pedigree was not recognized. I did not possess the required ballet or modern dance background for admission, and could not even attain an audition. I never had an affinity for these particular dance styles. However, even if I had, the financial barrier to continue Ballet or Modern dance was too great of a burden for my family. This realization was a difficult pill to swallow: I had to love Western dance, and had to be able to afford it in order to get anywhere professionally as a dancer. I began to wonder “why…Eurocentric dance forms [were] worth preserving and good for all students, but dance and heritage of the ‘other’ [were]...not?” (McCarthy-Brown, 128). There was a certain sense of erasure to the beauty and intricacy of the many cultural dances around me, simply because of where their geography had landed them. Whose culture and heritage was trying to be preserved? And at what cost? I could not arrive at a clear answer to that question. It was evident then that I could not continue to pursue dance as a profession, and would have to change my career path altogether.
I completed a B.A. Honours degree in English Literature and Psychology in 1999 from York University in hopes of becoming a teacher. During that time, I was permitted to take a dance class or two as electives. I had the good fortune to study Bharata Natyam under Menaka Thakkar and Lata Pada. At the time, these courses were the multicultural icing to a very white dance program. Admittance with these skill sets were not enough to get in, but somehow dabbling in these dance forms for fun was considered acceptable. I continued to study Bharata Natyam after my studies at York ended, and enjoyed the similarities in base rhythms and nuance to my beloved Kandyan dance.
I graduated from Queen’s University with a B.Ed in 2000, and became a primary teacher that taught the Arts in a generalist way. This did not extinguish my love of dance. I continued to expand my dance repertoire on my own terms by learning and performing Latin Ballroom, East and West Indian Folk, as well as Flamenco. By this time, it was 2015. Despite the barriers, I continued to advocate for Arts programming that integrated social justice in schools that I worked at. I had spent more than a decade teaching subjects that were second choice to me, and ultimately this affected my professional career and long-term opportunities. I made several attempts to apply for leadership positions in the Arts. However, I continued to face similar challenges of being deemed as insufficiently qualified. I lacked the systematically designated Bachelor of Fine Arts that was the doorway to future opportunities. All of my years of teaching in the Arts, and my dance qualifications were not sufficient enough to crack that glass ceiling.
It was at this point in my life that I became discontented with my dance career. I decided to bite the proverbial bullet, and take the necessary Additional Qualifications through York. Reflecting on this situation years later, the necessity of acquiring a dance AQ to be able to step a toe into leadership was very problematic. While this was a door, it was still a back door that seemed unnecessary. However, without these qualifications meant that my dance career would remain professionally stagnant, and that leadership would be unattainable. It also meant having to shell out several thousands of dollars to finally become specialized, and finally become acceptably qualified. Again, my dance training was not from another country, but it was right here in Canada.
Currently in TDSB Secondary schools, students have the opportunity to gain one equivalency credit per year via the PLAR program (Prior Learning Assessment & Recognition Program). Through this program, students gain the necessary credits toward their secondary diploma. Prior learning is assessed and accredited according to “...the knowledge and skills that students have acquired, in both formal and informal ways, outside secondary school” (https://www.tdsb.on.ca/High-School/Guidance/PLAR). Dance students with foreign dance experience can gain entry into programs that would have earlier posed barriers, effectively leveling the playing field. There are still many strides to expand this equivalency to dance students with ‘othered’ dance experience, such as an increase in credits per year. As well, the application process is long and arduous, requiring much support with the documentation process. These students tend to struggle with understanding how Canadian dance classrooms work against the prescribed elements of dance. As well, composing dances against the creative process, rather than through imitation, is a sharp learning curve. However, this program is helping to make space for the enormous talents and abilities in underprivileged and foreign trained dance students.
I was very lucky to have wonderful mentors who encouraged me to complete my dance specialist. In time, I discovered that I was not alone. Through my Dance AQ courses at York, I came across many ex-dancers who were in the same boat as me. Those dancers were also settlers, racialized people, Black and Indigenous, 2SLGBTQIA+ educators. It was very telling that an entire cross section of dance educators were somehow left out of the system, and had to find another way in. Many had not given up on their dreams of teaching dance. They were an inspiration, and became my band of well wishers. They taught me there was power behind our collective voice that grew louder and louder. Our message was simple: the kind of dance and the way of dance clearly needed to be changed.
Currently, some dance students are still experiencing frustration with the audition process and are applying elsewhere, or
joining dance initiatives within their own communities. Many programs have responded by shifting their focus, and expanding audition requirements to allow for openness as to the type of dances accepted. These positive strides towards equity are moments of hope and change that give me a reason to pause. The benefit of this allows space for students with diverse dance techniques to not only gain necessary qualifications, but supports the diversity and contemporary landscape of dance in Ontario schools.
This is just a starting point for some dance programs that still center Western dance forms at their auditions. The center refuses to be removed, holding on tight to the remaining vestiges of their Western dance privilege. The 2023 Cultural Diversity in Ontario's Performing Arts Education Report provides data around the frequency of specific cultural mentions in Ontario University Dance programs. Mentions of White culture are listed at 13.9%, and Black culture at 13.6 %. However, the percentages drop to 3 percent or lower for Latin American, Filippino, Indigenous, West Asian, South East Asian, Chinese, Korean and South Asian cultural mentions. While barriers exist to enter programs, the quality of dance programs once students get into post-secondary institutions according to this study are troubling, and do not reflect the diversity of our cities or current classrooms.
For many marginalized students, their dance backgrounds are tied to the heart of their communities, and are fostered by Elders and their own cultures. They are far removed from the European classical dance versions required of them. My own dance students that were from underserved communities were enthusiastic dancers. They would seek admissions into their local university dance program. This was their first, closest and most affordable choice rather than long-distance commuting or moving. Systemic barriers imposed financial challenges to these students, who could not gain an audition without certain dance experience. These students were not afforded the opportunity to showcase their skill sets in dance styles that best represent them. Zaretta Hammond (2014) suggests that the solution to “...closing students' learning gaps in the classroom lie in tapping into their culture” (pg.22). Recognition of this salient fact is one that needs greater examination and advocacy by all stakeholders.
Collective steps from the dance community towards decolonizing Ontario’s dance landscape away from its Westernized center, and pushing the world of dance outside of its self-imposed limits continues to be necessary. This requires dance teachers to hold themselves as dance educators, rather than dance trainers, when building student capacity through the Ontario dance curriculum. This crucial difference requires a necessary shift to valuing process over product, which allows for authentic student centered learning at their own pace.
Decolonizing also begins with examining personal privilege and bias in the Arts. This requires reevaluating one’s own teaching experiences and training, and moving away from the colonial construct that holds to this is ‘how it has always been done’. Inflexibility leaves little room for growth or change. Personal reflection about your positionality in your school community is also warranted (e.g., do you look like the students that you teach? Are students from a similar socio-economic background as you?). In terms of a dance space, consider whose traditions are being explored, in order to make room to examine cultural appreciation over appropriation. This would require building networks to larger dance communities that represent one’s school community. Inviting those artists into schools, building relationships based on mutual respect, valuing their art and compensating their skills accordingly are the beginning steps to establishing authentic student engagement in dance.
Siloing of the Arts is a long held colonial construct that places Arts disciplines into neat little packages. This is counter-intuitive to dance styles that have long partnered dance in a cross-disciplined manner (e.g., Ghanaian dance and drumming). McCarthy Brown (2017) challenges us to examine how we structure improvisation, or cross-collaboration in dance:
“Within a western-based context, a clear Western-desired aesthetic remains. In this context, improvisation can be off-putting to many students of colour as well as students without formal dance training, wherein their previous dance encounters were communal and less focused on the individual in motion. Their unease also has a great deal to do with music choices or the absence of music that can occur in improvisation classes. For many African American, Native American, and Latino students, dance is culturally interdependent with a musical experience…”(p. 58).
A de-siloed approach can provide many more entry points for student success and engagement. Cross-disciplinary collaborations can help set the stage for the appreciation of skill sets that have often been undervalued. In addition, exploring STEAM applications in dance would lead to greater avenues to implementing dance as a medium to learning, thereby creating reverence for the powerful tool that dance can be.
Finally, taking steps towards decolonizing dance is an act of allyship with our students and colleagues from Black, Indigenous, racialized and 2SLGBTQIA+ communities. It is our professional responsibility to our students to ensure their inclusion, safety and mental health in our schools by creating safer spaces for them to reach their full potential.
No student should ever be forced to abandon their passion for dance because there is no space for them within the traditional contours of our collective dance world. Frankly speaking, our students deserve better than small gaps to squeeze themselves into. Doors that have once been shut can be opened, even if it is by a crack, or by metaphorically kicking it down. A back door might have been the path forward in the past, but, given today’s declining support for the Arts, we must be ready to dust off our welcome mats to recruit every willing student that shares our passion for dance. After all, the more the merrier.
References
Cruz Banks, O. (2010). Critical postcolonial dance pedagogy: The relevance of West African dance education in the United States. Anthropology & Education Quarterly, 41(1), 18-34.
Cressman, J. (2016). Why Dancers Should Care About Colonialism--Because It's the Gift That Keeps on Giving. Find out how by looking at" Save the Last Dance". Dance Major Journal, 4(1).
Di Angelo, R. (2018). White fragility: Why it's so hard for white people to talk about racism. Beacon Press.
Jones, K., & Okun, T. (2001). White supremacy culture. Dismantling racism: A workbook for social change.
Hammond, Z. (2014). Culturally responsive teaching and the brain: Promoting authentic engagement and rigor among culturally and linguistically diverse students. Corwin Press.
McCarthy-Brown, N. (2014). Decolonizing dance curriculum in higher education: One credit at a time. Journal of Dance Education, 14(4), 125-129.
McCarthy-Brown, Nyama. (2017). Dance Pedagogy for a Diverse World: Culturally Relevant Teaching in Theory, Research and Practice. Jefferson, N.C.: McFarland & Company Inc
Saad, L. (2020). Me and white supremacy: Combat racism, change the world, and become a good ancestor. Sourcebooks, Inc.
Truss, J. (2019). What happened when my school started to dismantle white supremacy culture. Next Generation Learning Challenges.
Websites for further reading:
https://www.tdsb.on.ca/High-School/Guidance/PLAR
The 2023 Cultural Diversity in Ontario's Performing Arts Education Report
Ruwani de Fonseka is an accomplished Dancer, Multi-Instrumentalist, Vocalist and Visual Artist. She is a passionate advocate for Social Justice in the Arts. Ruwani recently completed her Masters of Education in Social Justice at OISE in Indigenous and Black studies. She has taught across divisions and learning centers of the board for 24 years. She is also a current Flamenco dance student at the Esmeralda Enrique Academy of Spanish Dance. Ruwani has served as a member of CODE Equity Committee, and CODE's Provocations Advisory Committee. She is a contributor towards CODE's Recognize, Reflect, Refocus: Addressing Anti-Black Racism in the Drama and Dance Classroom publication. Ruwani currently serves as Central Lead Teacher for the TDSB Arts Department.