Last week on “So You Think You Can Dance,” choreographer Travis Wall presented a routine set to Nina Simone’s poignant “Strange Fruit.” The performance showcased talented dancers, fluid motion, and nuanced lighting. While the concept undoubtedly stemmed from good intentions, the final product sparked concern.
For many, “So You Think You Can Dance” (SYTYCD) occupies a complex space in the dance world. From attending live tours to following favorite contestants online, the connection to the show runs deep. SYTYCD undeniably creates opportunities for dancers and choreographers, bringing dance into mainstream visibility and inspiring new generations – ostensibly, so you can dance. Yet, a recurring critique centers on whether the show truly upholds the artistic depth and integrity inherent in dance. The very structure of a competitive dance program necessitates rapid choreography creation, often within a week or less. This learn-dance-eliminate cycle inevitably condenses the crucial processes of research, development, and meaningful discussion surrounding the dance itself, especially when tackling weighty subjects.
The Tightrope of Timely Art on a Rapid Cycle Show
One might choose to overlook certain aspects of Travis Wall’s choreography, such as the dancers’ costumes vaguely reminiscent of 1800s plantation attire. Perhaps one could sidestep the complexities of a white choreographer interpreting a song deeply resonant within the Black community. One might even disregard the commercialized movement vocabulary employed when addressing conversations on race and lived experiences. The fact that not all dancers were people of color could also be set aside, acknowledging that dance can be a universal response, and dialogues about race should involve everyone, regardless of background.
However, the core issue remains: can a white choreographer, regardless of accolades, genuinely and respectfully address the multifaceted history and ongoing reality of Blackness in America within the compressed timeframe of SYTYCD’s production schedule? Reducing such a profound topic to a week-long creative process raises serious questions.
It’s conceivable that Wall conceived this piece months prior, engaging in extensive research within communities marked by systemic oppression. It’s also possible he openly acknowledged his privilege to his dancers, recognizing that his societal struggles are not defined by his skin color in the same way. Given Wall’s established career and awards, one might hope for in-depth discussions with his dancers about the enduring legacy of slavery in America. He, like any artist, has the right, even the responsibility, to respond to contemporary issues through his art; one does not need to be Black to create or perform work about Black experiences and racism.
Yet, even if Wall were a person of color, the fundamental problem of time and depth persists.
The Pitfalls of Performative Allyship on a Public Stage
Where Wall could have amplified Black voices demanding equality, the choreography arguably leaned towards a more palatable “white plea for peace,” culminating in a Black male dancer shaking hands with a white woman. Had the choreography engaged with the dancers’ diverse skin tones and experiences throughout the entire piece, rather than solely at the conclusion, it might have more effectively conveyed a call for genuine equality. It’s undeniable that a white choreographer presenting such a direct statement on national television likely faces less public scrutiny than a person of color. (Consider the intense backlash against Beyoncé’s “Formation” performance featuring exclusively Black dancers).
Regrettably, Wall’s “Strange Fruit” routine risks becoming another instance of “fast-food activism,” a phenomenon prevalent in our social media-driven world. The work, however well-intentioned, seems to reflect a superficial engagement with a deeply complex issue. The condensed creative process, particularly the lack of extended research and incubation, diminishes the potential impact. A brief two-minute performance about racism, even with short behind-the-scenes clips, cannot truly awaken understanding or foster meaningful allyship. Becoming genuine allies requires sustained research, active listening, and consistent advocacy, not fleeting symbolic gestures. Artists must prioritize self-education before leveraging their platforms to address sensitive topics.
Numerous choreographers have dedicated their entire careers to narrating Black experiences in America, artists like Kyle Abraham, Camille Brown, Okwui Okpokwasili, and the collaborators of Urban Bush Women. Countless other dedicated choreographers work tirelessly in less visible spaces to share their stories. When a white choreographer’s brief, vaguely political piece goes viral, it inadvertently shifts the focus away from those who have long been engaged in this crucial work, potentially overshadowing their voices.
Ultimately, dance serves as a powerful medium for responding to the human experience. Wall’s “Strange Fruit” likely represented a well-intentioned attempt at sympathy – distinct from empathy – towards people of color. While this intention is acknowledged, it must be tempered by a critical awareness of his positionality and the limitations of surface-level interpretations of American race relations within the SYTYCD context.
Yes, “SYTYCD” broadens dance’s reach and may inspire a young person to explore the art form – so you can dance. However, it also risks presenting a shallow view of dance’s boundless potential for communication and profound storytelling. As artists, holding each other accountable for showcasing the full spectrum of dance, not just creating content for mass media, is paramount. Meaningful dance, dance that truly resonates and effects change, requires depth, time, and a commitment to ongoing learning and engagement beyond the fleeting applause of a televised competition.
