I would be lying if I didn’t admit that it was too soon. I was not “on my leg.” I wasn’t even close.
I read a critique of my performance.
“Misty Copeland has absolutely no jump,” the writer said.
It hurt, especially because jumps have been my strength for so long. I was not yet leaping regularly in class, and it was during the actual performance that I really pushed for the first time and tried to achieve my grands jetés.
I performed far below my ability.
Perhaps the hardest part of my journey to healing has been recovering in the spotlight, in front of hundreds of people, presenting what I know is not my best, though it is my best for that moment. To be onstage getting criticism from people who don’t know about my injury or don’t care to know is difficult. And so is knowing that there may be a balletomane seeing me dance for the first time, and basing his or her impressions of me on a performance that is much less than what I am capable of.
But that is a responsibility I took on when I made the decision to step back onstage.
I definitely felt pressure to get back, to try again, from myself, from my fans, and from ABT. It’s a tough position to be in. You need and want to heal completely, but you also don’t want to be out for too long, to be forgotten, to miss out on roles, to lose your moment.
Knowing that some writers will be hypercritical, there are those who wonder why I bother reading reviews at all. It’s true that they can be brutal, subjective, and incredibly one-sided. For all its athleticism, ballet is not a sport. There is no pure, clean way to judge it. A jeté is not the same as a touchdown, a plié not the same as a home run.
One reviewer will say you were marvelous, while another, judging the same performance, will pick out your myriad flaws. Or you notice that when it comes to a particular dancer, the reviews seem always to glow, no matter how he or she performs.
But I believe that I can learn from critiques, however biased or unfairly negative some may be. I choose to see the range of people’s opinions as a way to improve. If I notice, for instance, that ten people have a negative opinion about the way I hold my arms, I will apply a laser focus to making my carriage, my port de bras, better. And of course, hearing the same critique from Kevin seals the deal.
I recall reading a quote in which Kevin said that my arms had yet to catch up to the ability and articulation of my legs and feet. It was hard to hear, but I was determined from then on to make my arms my best quality. I now think that my upper body, port de bras, and artistry have become my best qualities as a dancer, surpassing the flexible feet, pretty lines, nimble movement, and fluid coordination that come to me naturally.
I also believe that my stamina has finally clicked in just the last three or four years. Like my start in ballet, my endurance probably came later to my career than it appeared for most other dancers. But now, when I’m exhausted, I feel I’m still strong enough to keep my feet and legs in the proper positions, while before I would often lose the crispness in my lower body. As I always say, there is no shortcut in ballet technique. You repeat and repeat to get whatever you are trying to master to become second nature, for it to become as instinctive as walking. Then you can start to run.
I’m finally running.
I can more easily dismiss critiques when I know I have achieved visible improvement in whatever move or step I’ve attempted to fine-tune. I know at that point that I’ve done what I can do, and I simply can’t please everyone. It is enough for me to make my best effort at achieving the perfection that is nearly impossible to attain, but that is ever the goal of a professional ballerina.
BEFORE PULLING OUT OF the Met season, and throughout my recovery, I was able to take advantage of the many amazing opportunities that have come my way beyond ABT’s stage. I shot a calendar that celebrated ballet, with the wonderful photographer Gregg Delman. I became one of several athletes and artists featured in a series of commercials for Diet Dr Pepper. I have continued to hold master classes for budding ballerinas, and I’m an ambassador for the Boys and Girls Club, my other childhood home.
My extracurricular endeavors, beyond ballet or ABT, have been misunderstood by some. I also know that there are many within the ballet world who do not approve of my mainstream appeal or my passion to bring ballet to the masses and especially to underprivileged communities. Like that blogger who spoke negatively about my performances with Prince, as well as some of my other endeavors, I get criticized for “letting people in.” It’s almost as if ballet is this exclusive secret society that’s terrified of change, even as it constantly looks for a way to stay relevant and alive. But I want everyone to feel that they could be a part of my world, if they want to be.
My goal has been to share ballet with an audience that might otherwise not know or appreciate it. Of course, not every budding dancer will be fortunate enough to have a Liz Cantine as her drill instructor, spotting her potential, or a Cindy who takes her expertise to a working-class neighborhood, then offers a free education to the most ambitious talents. But that doesn’t mean we can’t make a start. Recently, I helped facilitate the founding of ABT’s Project Plié, a partnership between the company and the Boys and Girls Clubs of America that will formalize the process that introduced me to ballet, bringing ABT-trained teachers to clubs across the country to scout for talented kids who might otherwise never set foot on a stage. They’ll learn history and dance theory, and be provided with scholarships to hone their talents. And as the figurehead for the program, I’ll get to embody the incredible symbolism that being different can stand for. I am different and I accept it. I’m aware of the power that it holds in opening doors for others who are underprivileged or underrepresented—it’s a power that goes far beyond me or any of my individual achievements.
I am not just trying to shepherd and mentor new dancers. I also feel deeply that there is a huge, untapped audience of ballet viewers. And among disadvantaged children, or children of color who are often not exposed to this art form, I believe that ballet provides much to learn. Studies show that dancers have a very high rate of success in any endeavor they pursue because of the poise and discipline, both physical and mental, that they must develop practicing their craft. Those are valuable attributes for anyone to possess. But children cannot develop them if they are not exposed to dance. I am willing to carry that message and pass on those lessons even as I realize I may not see immediate change in my lifetime.
But when all is said and done, it is standing on the stage, articulating ballet’s majesty, that is and has always been my first and strongest love.
I LOVE THAT IMAGE of the Firebird.
It exemplifies the most joyful moments in the life of a dancer. The exhilaration of performance, the ecstasy of losing yourself in movement. But those moments are fleeting. In between, there are hours of grueling practice, and days, weeks, even months of despair when injuries or other problems keep you from performing your best. Or from dancing at all.
When I was recuperating from my shin injury, I had a great deal of time for reflection. I often contemplated whether or not I would—or should—dance again. Did I have a different path and purpose going forward? Perhaps I had gone as far as I could, and from now on, my role would be to encourage and inspire as a mentor rather than as a dancer.
But now that I’m back onstage, having grown in ways I didn’t realize were possible, I know that I’m here to do both.
No matter how many hours I devote to practice, no matter how much of my life I give to ballet, the work never stops. Every dancer knows that there will always be someone younger and better waiting in the wings to take her place. The older you get, the less you are physically capable of. Yet age and experience give your art depth and complexity, and I am so excited to continue to grow and explore. It’s all about finding that balance.
I still worry, far more than I should, about what the ballet world thinks of me—whether I will ever be accepted and seen as the talent I was once praised for as a prodigy, a well
-rounded artist deserving of respect. Or will I forever be “the black ballerina,” an oddity who doesn’t quite compare?
But in my moments of clarity I envision all those people whose lives have been touched by my story and my accomplishments so far, who upon seeing my journey know that you can start late, look different, be uncertain, and still succeed.
My fears are that it could be another two decades before another black woman is in the position that I hold with an elite ballet company. That if I don’t rise to principal, people will feel I have failed them.
I still want it. To be a principal dancer with ABT, to be Nikiya in La Bayadère, Juliet to a soaring Romeo, Odette and Odile in Swan Lake, and Giselle. But whether or not I become the first female African American principal dancer in an elite company, I know that I’ve had an impact by having a voice and sharing my story.
There’s another image of the Firebird that I love: how she emerges triumphant, and then soars into the sky, like the phoenix rising from the ashes.
I’ve come so far from that first class I took in my baggy gym clothes. I know that by being here, for seventeen years, in this rarefied, difficult, elitist, beautiful world, I have made my mark in history and ballet. I will forever fight, performing as if it’s my last show.
And I will love every minute of it.
The Copeland clan (clockwise from top left): Doug Jr., Chris, Erica, and me
My very first time on pointe, which Cindy was confident (and quick) enough to capture on film.
A pas de deux class at Cindy’s studio. In the background, you can see Jason—this was one of the days he decided to come to class.
Dancing with Ashley Ellis. This was from my first week at Lauridsen, when we were so fascinated by our similarities. We were like sisters—at ABT, they called her “the white Misty.”
INSET: The Bradleys and me. Proof that I was never different to them, just a part of the family.
Lola’s warm heart. She was so nurturing and natural in her affection from the start.
I was photographed during my ABT audition. In the background, you can see Jared Matthews and Craig Salstein, both of whom are also now soloists!
Soul mates. Leyla and I were inseparable.
Eric—my brother at ABT
My family. Top row: Miranda and Tom (the Cantines’ daughter-in-law and son); middle row: Lindsey, Jeff (Erica’s husband), me, Aiden Cantine (the Cantines’ grandson), Sofie Cantine (the Cantines’ granddaughter), Erica, Mariah, Mom; bottom row: Liz, Chris
With my father, Doug, in Chicago
Olu
Legendary ballerina and mentor Raven Wilkinson and me in my apartment, after interviewing her for a documentary
Dancing with Prince
As the Firebird, with Herman Cornejo
In the ABT costume shop, being fitted for my Firebird headpiece
Back where I started—with a group of talented young dancers from the Boys and Girls Club
Onstage as an odalisque in Le Corsaire. I’ve danced this role ever since I joined the company.
Acknowledgments
I NEVER THOUGHT THAT I would be so blessed as to be given the opportunity to share all that makes me me: my dreams, my struggles, and my hope to inspire many to dare to dream bigger than they can imagine.
I have to thank my family for the strength we have maintained throughout our lives. Erica, Doug, Chris, Lindsey, and Cameron: it was our belief in one another and ourselves that made it possible to beat and defy all odds. Thank you, Mom, for not giving up. Thank you, Daddy, for stepping into my life and raising me as your own. Cindy, Wolf, and Patrick: What can I say other than that I’m not sure where my life would be without our fateful meeting. Thank you for taking me into your home without judgment . . . just genuine love. Thank you for bringing me to ballet! I will forever be grateful. Thank you, Liz and Dick, my godparents. Thank you for not only being the catalysts to my career but for remaining a part of my life: for your guidance and love.
Boys and Girls Club of San Pedro! Boys and Girls Clubs of America! Everything you stand for is real, and it works. You change lives and started my future, and what a future it has become!
American Ballet Theatre: thank you for the endless belief and support in me. I’m proud to be an ABT baby. From the summer intensive to the Studio Company to a member of the main company! Thank you for helping to create an atmosphere where I felt capable of being a new mold for what a ballerina can be! To Susan, my second mommy, I can’t say enough. Your mentorship changed my views and mind-set. You have set the bar high. Vicky! I think you were one of the first brown ballerinas I ever met. Thank you for taking the time to show me that I’m not alone, and for being an incredible example that my dreams are limitless. Diane, the short time spent training at the Lauridsen Ballet Centre was so vital to my training. Thank you for never taking it easy on me, for never treating me any differently from your other students, and for pushing me beyond what I thought my limits were. Raven, you gave me that second wind, inspiring me not to feel sorry for myself and my situation, but to fight for what I know is right. You remind me every day that life isn’t easy, and therefore the fight in me is that much fiercer. Your perseverance is beyond admirable. You will always be that example of what a true ballerina is! Marjorie, I don’t have to say it, because we both know it. We speak the same language, and your knowledge is endless. I admire and respect you, and I am grateful for the discoveries I have started to uncover within myself and my body because of you.
Gilda, where would I be without you? Vernon’s introduction brought forth this magical collaboration that neither of us knew could reach these heights. And boy, do we have so much higher to go! Thank you for your incredible vision and for bringing it to life. You’ve brought ballet to a level I wasn’t sure was possible. To the team at Touchstone/Simon & Schuster, Megan Reid, and Steve Troha: Who would have thought . . . well, you guys did! And it’s all happening. Thank you for the tremendous work and belief! Charisse, what a beautiful experience this has been, to sit in my living room and talk to a friend. This book has been far from work. It has been an exploration of myself, my past, and my future. Your words have brought it to life!
And last but not least: O. Our relationship has been more than I could have ever dreamed of it becoming. You have been my biggest fan, my voice of reason, and always good for a debate when that’s needed. Thank you for being here always, and for helping me to believe that brown ballerinas could benefit from seeing and hearing my story and for encouraging me to be a mentor.
© GREGG DELMAN
MISTY COPELAND is a soloist at American Ballet Theatre. A recipient of the Leonore Annenberg Fellowship in the Arts and an inductee into the Boys and Girls Club Alumni Hall of Fame, she lives in New York City. Visit her online at MistyCopeland.com, and follow her on Twitter at @mistyonpointe.
MEET THE AUTHORS, WATCH VIDEOS AND MORE AT
SimonandSchuster.com
authors.simonandschuster.com/Misty-Copeland
Facebook.com/TouchstoneBooks
Twitter.com/TouchstoneBooks
Index
Acocella, Joan, 249
Adams, Diana, 183
Alex (mother’s friend), 59–60, 68
Allen, Debbie, 87–89, 160
Allred, Gloria, 124–25, 133
Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater, 90, 176
American Ballet Theatre (ABT):
as America’s National Company, 98, 140
and black dancers, 176, 177–79, 182, 185, 197, 198, 210
and body image, 165–66, 167, 169, 172, 182
corps de ballet, 5, 154, 156, 158, 164, 165, 166, 176, 190, 198
founding of, 73
hierarchy of, 156
and international competitions, 201, 229
Misty’s apprenticeship with, 150, 151
Misty’s career with, 1–2, 5, 150, 164, 187, 195–200, 224, 230–31
as Misty’s goal, 113–14, 139, 145–46, 166, 180, 186–87, 205
Misty’s introduc
tion to, 72–73
Misty’s scholarship to, 135, 136, 146
Misty’s thoughts of leaving, 182–83, 185, 195
principal dancers, 7, 74, 139, 158, 211, 251
Project Plié, 260
promotions in, 159
rehearsal spaces, 140–41
roles assigned in, 158–59, 172
schedules of, 156–59
sponsors of, 74
Studio Company, 139, 145–47, 150, 151, 152–54, 155, 156, 196, 201, 211, 212, 230
summer programs, 92, 97, 104, 113, 114, 135, 136, 138, 140, 144–46, 148, 149, 152, 189, 201
touring, 150, 157, 180, 193, 199, 209, 230, 237, 242
Anderson, Lauren, 228
Arpino, Gerald, 94, 96–97
Ash, Aesha, 176, 183, 228
Àvila, Lola de, 103, 105–6, 107–8, 109, 112, 113, 155, 247
Badu, Erykah, 217
Balanchine, George, 73
ideal ballerina image of, 44, 109, 173, 182
and New York City Ballet, 98, 183
Tarantella, 201–2
Tchaikovsky Pas de Deux, 221
ballerinas:
black, see black ballerinas
creating ballets on, 150, 158
critiques of, 25, 234–35, 237, 258
diverse styles of, 145
en pointe, 44, 70, 105, 252
ideal form for, 43, 44, 98, 103, 109, 162–67, 171, 172, 173, 182, 245, 252
multidimensional art form, of, 170–71
Life in Motion: An Unlikely Ballerina Page 22
