“So You Think You Can Dance” (SYTYCD) has been a prominent platform for dancers for years, bringing the art form to mainstream audiences. Last week’s episode featured a routine choreographed by Travis Wall to Nina Simone’s “Strange Fruit.” While the performance showcased beautiful dancers and fluid movements, it sparked a critical conversation about the show’s approach to sensitive topics. This isn’t the first time questions about SYTYCD’s artistic depth have been raised, and it highlights a long-standing tension between entertainment and artistic integrity within the show.
My history with “So You Think You Can Dance” is personal and complex. Like many, I’ve been captivated by the talent and spectacle of the show since its early seasons. From attending live tours to taking classes from past winners and saving memorable performances online, I’ve been invested in the SYTYCD phenomenon. The show undeniably opens doors for dancers and choreographers, offering visibility and opportunities that are rare in the dance world. However, this very platform often seems to dilute the artistic integrity inherent in dance, consistently setting a low bar for meaningful artistic exploration.
The inherent structure of “So You Think You Can Dance” contributes to this challenge. As a competitive reality show, SYTYCD operates at a breakneck pace. Choreographers are tasked with creating and staging multiple routines in extremely short timeframes – often a week or less. This rapid “learn-dance-eliminate” cycle significantly compresses the creative process. Crucially, the time for research, in-depth discussion, and nuanced development of the dance’s concept – the very elements that give dance depth and meaning – is severely restricted. The focus shifts to quick impact and emotional resonance for television, potentially at the expense of deeper artistic exploration.
Travis Wall’s “Strange Fruit” routine serves as a recent example of these inherent tensions. While acknowledging the choreographer’s likely good intentions, the execution of the piece raises concerns. Specifically, the critique isn’t solely about the choice of song or even the costuming, but about the depth of engagement with the complex themes the piece attempts to address. Reducing the weight of black history and the ongoing struggle for racial equality in America to a week-long creative process, even by a well-intentioned choreographer, warrants critical examination.
It’s important to consider various perspectives. Perhaps Wall conceived this piece months prior, engaging in extensive research and dialogue with communities impacted by systemic oppression. It’s possible he openly addressed his own privilege as a white choreographer with his dancers. Indeed, Wall, with his established career and accolades, has the right – even the obligation – to respond to societal issues through his art. Dance should be a platform for such responses, and these conversations should include voices from all backgrounds.
However, even with the best intentions and potential background work, the rushed nature of SYTYCD’s production model and the inherent limitations of a short television segment impact the final product. The critique extends beyond just Travis Wall; even if the choreographer were a person of color, condensing such a profound topic into a fleeting performance for a dance competition format risks trivializing the subject matter.
The conclusion of Wall’s piece, featuring a handshake between the darkest-skinned male dancer and a white female dancer, further exemplifies this point. While perhaps intended as a call for unity, it could be interpreted as prioritizing a message of peace over a more profound exploration of equality. Imagine if the choreography had consistently utilized the dancers’ diverse skin tones throughout the entire piece to underscore a message of equality, rather than reserving it for a concluding moment. It’s worth noting that a white choreographer presenting such a direct statement on race on national television might face less immediate backlash compared to, for instance, the hypercritical response to Beyoncé’s “Formation” performance featuring exclusively black dancers.
This situation highlights the trap of “fast-food activism” – a phenomenon prevalent in our social media-driven world. Well-intentioned creators, including Travis Wall in this instance, can fall into the pattern of quickly consuming and then serving up simplified, digestible content related to complex social issues. The impact is inevitably diminished when the creative process, particularly crucial elements like research, reflection, and deep incubation, is drastically shortened. A brief two-minute dance piece, even with accompanying behind-the-scenes clips, cannot truly awaken viewers to the complexities of racism or transform them into informed allies. Meaningful allyship requires sustained engagement, research, listening, and active participation. Platforms should be used responsibly and with informed intention.
Numerous choreographers dedicate their entire careers to authentically portraying the narratives of blackness in America. Figures like Kyle Abraham, Camille Brown, Okwui Okpokwasili, and the artists of Urban Bush Women, alongside countless unsung choreographers working tirelessly in smaller venues, demonstrate the depth and commitment required for such storytelling. When a white choreographer’s brief, politically charged piece goes viral on a mainstream platform like “So You Think You Can Dance,” it can inadvertently overshadow the ongoing, deeply invested work of these dedicated artists.
Ultimately, dance serves as a powerful medium for responding to the human experience. Travis Wall’s “Strange Fruit” routine likely stemmed from a place of sympathy – a well-meaning attempt to connect with the experiences of people of color. While this intention is commendable, it necessitates a critical examination of the limitations inherent in approaching such sensitive topics within the SYTYCD framework and from a position of white privilege. The show, while undeniably bringing dance to a wide audience and potentially inspiring new dancers, often presents a superficial view of dance’s vast potential for communication and profound storytelling. As artists and viewers, we should encourage and expect a deeper level of engagement and accountability, ensuring that dance is presented in its full complexity and power, not merely as easily digestible entertainment.
