“So You Think You Can Dance” (SYTYCD) often walks a tightrope between showcasing incredible dance talent and simplifying the art form for mainstream consumption. Last week’s episode, featuring a Travis Wall choreography set to Nina Simone’s “Strange Fruit,” perfectly encapsulates this ongoing tension. While undeniably visually striking with its fluid movements, skilled dancers, and evocative lighting, the piece raises critical questions about the depth and execution when dance attempts to tackle complex social issues within a limited timeframe.
My relationship with SYTYCD is layered. As someone who has followed the show from its early seasons, witnessing its impact firsthand and even taking classes from past winners, I recognize the platform it provides for dancers and choreographers. Yet, there’s a persistent concern about whether the show truly upholds the artistic integrity inherent in dance. The very structure of SYTYCD, with its rapid-fire cycle of learning, performing, and eliminating routines within a week, inevitably compresses the crucial elements of artistic process. Research, thoughtful discussion, and deep exploration of the subject matter often get sacrificed for the sake of weekly spectacle.
In the case of Travis Wall’s “Strange Fruit” routine, while aspects like the 1800s plantation-style costuming and the choice of Nina Simone’s powerfully resonant song are debatable, the core issue lies in the condensed timeframe. Even setting aside the complexities of a white choreographer interpreting a song deeply intertwined with Black history and experience, the fundamental problem is reducing the multifaceted topic of Blackness in America – past, present, and future – to a creative process constrained by a week’s production schedule.
It’s crucial to acknowledge the possibility that Wall’s concept might have originated from extensive prior reflection and engagement with communities affected by systemic oppression. Perhaps he engaged in meaningful dialogue with his dancers, recognizing his own positionality as a white artist approaching this subject matter. It’s even plausible that he facilitated discussions about the enduring impact of slavery. Artists of all backgrounds have the right, even the responsibility, to respond to societal realities, and race should be a universal conversation.
However, even with the most generous assumptions about Wall’s intentions and preliminary work, the hurried nature of SYTYCD’s production model remains a significant impediment. The issue isn’t solely about Wall’s identity, but about the inherent limitations of presenting such a weighty theme within the show’s format. Even if a choreographer of color had conceived this piece, the week-long turnaround would still compromise the depth and nuance required for a truly impactful exploration of “Strange Fruit” and its historical and contemporary resonance.
The choreography seemed to lean towards a generalized plea for peace, culminating in a final tableau of a Black male dancer shaking hands with a white female dancer. While perhaps intended as a message of unity, this ending gesture risks simplifying a profoundly complex issue. Had the choreography explored the dancers’ diverse experiences and perspectives throughout the entire piece, rather than solely in a concluding moment, it might have offered a more nuanced commentary on equality. It’s also worth considering whether a Black choreographer presenting such a direct statement on national television would face a different level of scrutiny, as seen with the contrasting reactions to Beyoncé’s “Formation” performance, which prominently featured Black dancers and themes.
Travis Wall’s “Strange Fruit” routine, in this context, can be viewed as an example of “fast-food activism.” In a social media-driven world, there’s a pervasive pressure to engage with complex issues through quick, easily digestible content. SYTYCD, in its format, inadvertently encourages this superficial engagement. A two-minute dance piece, even accompanied by brief behind-the-scenes snippets, cannot genuinely awaken viewers to the depths of racism. Becoming true allies or accomplices requires sustained research, active listening, and genuine engagement, not just passive consumption of simplified artistic representations.
Numerous choreographers dedicate their entire careers to narrating the multifaceted stories of Blackness in America – artists like Kyle Abraham, Camille Brown, Okwui Okpokwasili, and the collectives behind Urban Bush Women. Countless other dance makers, often working with limited resources, pour their lived experiences into their art in studios and small theaters. When a white choreographer’s brief, politically charged piece goes viral on a platform like SYTYCD, it risks overshadowing the ongoing, deeply invested work of these artists and inadvertently recentering the narrative.
Dance, at its core, is a powerful medium for responding to the human experience. Travis Wall’s choreography on “So You Think You Can Dance” was likely a well-intentioned attempt at expressing solidarity – perhaps sympathy rather than deep empathy – with people of color. While such intentions are commendable, they necessitate a critical self-awareness, particularly regarding the choreographer’s own positionality and the potential for surface-level interpretations when dealing with deeply rooted issues like American race relations.
“So You Think You Can Dance” undeniably broadens dance’s reach, potentially inspiring new audiences and future dancers. However, it’s crucial to recognize the inherent limitations of its format in fully representing the profound communicative and storytelling potential of dance. As artists and viewers, we must hold ourselves and platforms like SYTYCD accountable for showcasing the full spectrum of dance’s power, moving beyond easily digestible content towards work that encourages deeper understanding and meaningful dialogue. This means demanding more than fleeting moments of “wokeness” and instead fostering an environment that values artistic depth, rigorous research, and authentic engagement with complex social realities within the dance world and beyond.
