Lineage in dance allows us to see the past and future simultaneously—a constant through line tugging at each other in the middle asking us to honor who and what has been while encouraging us to evolve our craft and grow our art. 

As a young person living in New York City, I quickly recognized that performing was not my joy or path, and dove deeply into my passions for dance education, choreography, and, what I would learn soon thereafter, production. Relationships I had formed before moving to the city were built upon, and I found myself working with several incredibly formidable teachers simultaneously.

Many of my “arrivals” were enabled because I was assisting someone who had already arrived and generously allowed me the opportunity to stand on their shoulders. These shoulders belonged to some brilliant women; dance educators who truly educate, alongside their many other talents. Each diligently guided me in their own unique way and taught by example the importance of paying this experience forward, which I now do for my own assistant (and as she will someday for hers). These experiences have shaped me not only as a dancer but, more importantly, as a dance educator. (It is important to note that although many do, not everyone uses the word “assistant” to describe the relationship that exists in spaces like this, and verbiage is not nearly as important as experience.)

Sheila Barker’s guidance in my life and career is still heavily present today. She gave me my first big teaching opportunity subbing for her at Ailey Extension. I will never forget a dialogue on the street corner before her class one Friday about training me to teach before “throwing me to the wolves”—the wolves, of course, meant lovingly and said with awareness, being the studios I currently teach at. They are spaces built on legacy, and some of the best training offered in the world. To be taught how to teach at the level I now do was one of the biggest gifts offered to me as a young educator. Working with Sheila is a direct line to Frank Hatchett, and upholding the high bar of this precedent is beyond a privilege.

During this time, I also had the opportunity of a lifetime being an assistant to Michèle Assaf, who quite literally showed me the world. My first experiences dancing and working in Europe were with her, and I learned from her the importance of preparation. Working with someone who dedicated so much of themselves to their prep was eye-opening and inspiring to see. When I got hired to teach at Steps on Broadway, I sat in a meeting across from a master’s series poster from the 1990s that had Michèle’s class featured on it.

From working with Michèle, I met Shelly Hutchinson. There are not enough words to describe the beautiful experiences I had by her side. Shelly taught me that you can be patient and kind, and still get the job done (whatever the job happens to be). Seeing this example was monumental to my growth, and it has colored everything I have ever done in my teaching. Shelly gave me my first opportunity to sub at Broadway Dance Center, and her impact trickles down to every dancer I work with.

Lastly, the New York City educator I have known the longest, Ginger Cox. Ginger doesn’t have “assistants,” but I am her “kid,” and have been since I was 16. Ginger’s influence runs rampant—her belief in a 17-year-old helped me receive an internship at BDC a year before I was old enough to have it, and she’s still the one I run to when I have a biomechanics question. I was a tap dancer before I met Ginger, and her love of jazz and her Phil Black training deeply inspired my love for the form. To be part of her line is something I cherish.

All of this is to say that lineage and legacy in dance are not to be forgotten. The training of those before us is how we have landed here, and what we do here and now is how we will evolve into a greater dance future; with much respect, onwards!