Dance and Activism: The Practice and Impact of Sociopolitical Concert Dance

Dawn Marie Bazemore

Movement as It is Inherent to All Bodies and a Bridge Between Dance and Politics

Movement subsists in all bodies. When I watch my young son, who shows absolutely no interest in any form of structured dance, express various types of emotions it is always through movement. We are born with the natural ability to move, and as we grow, we typically develop this innate sensibility as we embody our emotions and communicate through some form of physical dialogue. In this sense, dance is widely accessible; when audiences enter a space to view concert dance, they relate to the trained dancer—as someone who is using movement to communicate—on a basic cognitive level. Colleen Dunagan’s essay "Dance, Knowledge, and Power" reveals the ways in which dance audiences are capable of viewing and understanding dance by introducing the concept of virtual power or “dance’s ability to create embodied symbols, signs or representations of human agency.”1

This concept is relevant within concert dance, but has far-reaching implications offstage as well. The action of a community pooling their efforts together to stand against some form of injustice or voice their concern is direct evidence of human agency. This sort of faction is often labeled a movement. Even when the form of protest is not explicitly physical the metaphor and intention of the movement is still salient. In his book Critical Moves: Dance Studies in Theory and Politics author Randy Martin explains:

Politics goes nowhere without movement. It is not simply an idea, decision, or choice taken at a moment but also a transfigurative process that makes and occupies space […] The presumption of bodies already in motion, what dance takes as its normative condition, could bridge the various splits between mind and body, subject and object, and process and structure that have been so difficult for understandings of social life to negotiate.2

Here, Martin suggests that movement proves to be useful in navigating difficult social and political issues when other forms of communication fail.

Often it is the ethereal beauty and skill of the trained dancer, the complexity of the choreography, and the space in which the work is situated that makes the art form seem unobtainable to the non-dancer. However, at its core, concert dance elaborates upon a basic physical capability for awareness that generates corporeal responsiveness. This awareness is present to some extent in all human beings. If we understand that concert dance seeks to capture certain aspects of human ability, combine them with a technical and refined physical vocabulary, and make both metaphorically relatable to the audience, then we see the direct correlation between this structured form of dance and community life and action. This correlation fundamentally deconstructs the hierarchies associated with concert dance. Even non-dancing members of a community can find ways to dialogue through movement. Movement is intrinsic in all bodies and, as it relates to dance and politics, can be used to relay the issues and concerns of diverse participants.

In his article "Dance and Activism" written for the Encyclopedia of Activism and Social Justice Jesse Phillips-Fein states, “Dancing subverts this hierarchy by affirming the body’s knowledge and its importance, with the potential to develop a morality that is based on emotional responsiveness.” He goes on to say “Dancing creates community and cross-cultural understanding, unifying participants and offering a transformation that is viscerally experienced.”3 Essentially, movement makes space for all participants to engage in an exchange of emotions, ideas and sociopolitical concerns enabling formally trained and novice movers to contribute to the concert dance experience which in turn results in an increased level of awareness amongst everyone present.

In this essay I discuss the ways in which movement is used to embody the emotions, apprehensions and moral implications of its participants as it directly relates to concert dance. By recognizing that dance is evident in all bodies and politics cannot exist without movement, I aim to uncover the motivation for dancers and non-dancers to use concert dance as a medium through which they can engage in an exchange about pertinent issues. In addition, I explore the sociopolitical work of various successful choreographers as well as share my personal experience creating work that promotes advocacy in order to better understand first, why a choreographer chooses to express their social and/or political concerns specifically through concert dance and second, the societal challenges and benefits their work presents. In addition, I explore the research and collaborative efforts required to create such ideological work and the various unconventional methods choreographers use to reach a broader audience.


 Cause and Effect: Creating Dances about Issues of Personal and Collective Importance

In writing about dance and activism, Phillips-Fein suggests, “Because dance begins with the body, dance often relies on an element of personal history, a unique lens on sociopolitical issues.” What inspires choreographers to use their art as a form of activism and advocacy?  When we create dance we often begin with ideas that are inscribed onto our own bodies—we work with the tools we are given and on some subconscious level all choreographers speak from personal experience. In my own practice as a choreographer, I find it imperative to create work only when I feel I have something vital to share. I begin with a specific idea that connects to an issue or cause directly affecting me and/or my community. Coming to understand this about myself was a fundamental part of my training in dance and composition.

My first structured choreographed piece was an assignment given by my composition professor Kazuko Hirabayashi while studying for my BFA at SUNY Purchase. After I had implemented all of her previous instruction regarding phrase development, spatial awareness, and texture, Kazuko encouraged me to give more consideration to the concept that fueled the movement. I explained to her that my inspiration was the piece of music I had selected, to which her response was “there must be more.” While not all choreographers opt to advocate through their work, I believe Kazuko saw in me an artist who would eventually create dances out of a need to connect my art with my sense of citizenship in my wider community, and was offering me the requisite tools and guidance.

I spent the next three years at Purchase honing my ability to connect the technical aspects of choreography with the emotional and political content that inspired me. When it came time to choose subject matter for my final senior project, I decided to embody the premise of a paper I had written focusing on domestic violence in gay and lesbian relationships. It was a topic I had known very little about but developed a powerful connection to during the research and writing process, which encouraged me to initiate intimate conversations with close friends who, unfortunately, had encountered these issues firsthand. My research and collaboration with these brave individuals became the source of motivation for the piece which in turn, alerted my community of students to a crisis that they were either not aware of or uncomfortable discussing. After the final presentation of the work, a group of my colleagues formed an organization that provided refuge and counseling services to students who were victims in abusive LGBT relationships. This experience brought me to a deeper understanding of the ways dance can affect and influence the community.

Numerous notable artists use their work to explicitly reference their personal experiences and address issues that affect specific groups of people. Dancer, philanthropist and political activist Sage Cowles spoke eloquently of the joining of body and mind as it relates to dance and life, saying, “ My theory is that we’re not a body and a mind; that we are one whole and no matter what we do, this gesture is going to affect what happens in my mind and my heart.”5 Famed site-specific choreographer Liz Lerman credits her mother’s passing as the motivation for her choreographic and written work exploring technique and choreography for older bodies. Rising choreographer Kyle Abraham created his full evening length work "Radio Show" in his father’s memory. The piece is a compilation of his emotions in dealing with the loss of his hometown radio station, which was a vital symbol of the African American voice in Pittsburgh, and simultaneously watching his father struggle with the mental and physical deterioration of Alzheimer’s.

World-renowned choreographer Jawole Willa Jo Zollar has earned great recognition for creating work that brings attention to the concerns of underserved and underrepresented communities. Working from an African American diaspora perspective and aesthetic, Zollar founded her all- female ensemble Urban Bush Women (UBW) out of a need to create dance that explores issues surrounding feminism and racial identity. In Brenda Dixon-Gottschild’s book The Black Dancing Body: A Geography from Coon to Cool, Zollar shares the personal encounters with body image and race that influenced her decision to create UBW. During her time growing up in Kansas City, Missouri in the 1950s, Zollar dealt with her fair share of racism, but it was her experiences at the University of Missouri, Kansas City, that shaped her decision to make space for African American female dancers of all shapes and body types. She explains,

I first became aware that my butt was a problem (in college) because I would have teachers who would say that it was too big.  And I was hyper-extended (that is, the lower back was over-arched), so I had teachers that didn’t know how to talk about that. For them it was my butt rather than my alignment. They didn’t know how to give me the language, so the way they referenced it was my butt.  So I became neurotic, about my weight. Now I weighed maybe 98 pounds, but I went on a diet to try to lose my butt.”6

In 1995, Zollar presented her work "Batty Moves" in an effort to celebrate the black female physique. The term "batty" is the Caribbean word for buttocks; during her travels to the West Indies Zollar became acutely aware of the cultural differences pertaining to the appreciation and acceptance of the shapely black female body. A few years after its UBW premier, Zollar restaged "Batty Moves" for The Philadelphia Dance Company (Philadanco) of which I was then a member. During the re-creation process, she initiated conversations with the all-female cast, allowing us to share our personal struggles with body image stemming from the expectations and standards set by society and the industry in which we worked. I, quite like Zollar, had developed a neurotic complex about my own body and being inside this work motivated me to be more accepting of my physique not only as a dancer, but also as a black woman. Choreographically, "Batty Moves" offered various opportunities for the cast to connect with audience members, many of whom found it to be quite rewarding seeing reflections of their own body images being celebrated on stage.

Artists creating socially and politically charged work take on a challenge that is two-fold.  Critics and audiences will not only scrutinize a choreographer’s ability to create movement from an aesthetic point of view, but they will also analyze the subject matter of the piece. In the cases I have described, it is indeed the intention of the choreographers to engage viewers in a dialogue about pressing issues; however when dealing with strong sociopolitical views, we must be ready for both affirmation and opposition.

Recently, I was commissioned to create a piece for Philadanco. Being a mother of two sons inspired me to create a piece that focused on the corruption of a judicial system systemically biased against African American men. I choreographed A Movement for Five which was inspired by two years of research I conducted on the Central Park 5 (CP5). The CP5 are five men from Harlem who at the time of their arrests in Central Park in 1989 ranged in age from 14-16 years. The teens were falsely accused and convicted of the brutal rape of a white jogger and each served a sentence of over six years, after which they were ultimately exonerated when the actual rapist confessed. When the piece made its 2015 world premier in Philadelphia at the Kimmel Center for the Performing Arts, the response from the community was tremendous and the work sparked many conversations about the corruption in our judicial system. Audience members who were familiar with the case were moved by the ways in which I had brought the story to the stage and those that were not familiar were grateful that I had brought this issue to light. The reviews about the choreographic, emotional and political content were affirmative, and I even began receiving emails from viewers about other people who, after spending lengthy amounts of time in prison, finally had their false convictions overturned.

However, I was deeply affected by one viewer who sat behind me during a matinee performance and, not realizing that he was in the vicinity of the choreographer, expressed to his companion his belief that these men were in fact guilty of the crimes for which they had been exonerated. 

Herein lies the challenge for the choreographer who chooses to create such emotionally and politically charged work. All of my research proved that these men were innocent. The City of New York exonerated them and settled a civil suit in their favor, yet this viewer believed in their guilt. As the artist and the creator of the work, I have to be passionately invested in my convictions while making space for disparate views, and I am accountable for engaging the community in an open dialogue—that is the purpose of dance advocacy. But I cannot necessarily influence the response audiences have. As Randy Martin poignantly states in his book Critical Moves, dance provides a platform for all points of view:

[D]ance must be suffused with politics of all the various domains of society to the point it cannot be free of any of them. Dance must also be subject to the critiques that have been generated through the range of diverse political practices that struggle with the multiple and uneven effects engendered by the histories of exploitation, racism, sexism, homophobia and xenophobia.7

The Process of Research and Collaboration 

The nightA Movement for Five premiered, the Kimmel Center hosted an artist chat during which a Temple University dance major asked me to describe my creative process. She sat eagerly with her pen and pad ready to write down whatever pearls of wisdom I had to offer. As I spoke in depth about my lengthy development of research and preparation, I noticed she was not taking notes. I became aware that she was not inquiring about the work I did before entering the dance studio, but rather my actual method of embodying the information and putting it in a performative context. How did I actually create the piece?

If I had the opportunity to speak to that student again, I would share that what serves my work best is collaboration. The material that fueled the piece was sensitive and politically charged, and therefore it was imperative that the cast be just as informed and engaged as I was. I decided on a cast of eight dancers, five men and three women. The women represented the sisters, mothers and other members of the community who fought to support the CP5 but ultimately could not prevent their incarceration. The all-male second section of the piece spoke directly to the individual experiences of the CP5 while in prison. The goal here was to capture, both literally and metaphorically, the emotional content of their survival, their denouncement of faith and the pain of being separated from their families at such young ages.

All eight dancers watched a documentary about the CP5 early in the creative process and often came into rehearsals with questions about the case and the individuals involved. During rehearsals, I often took time to allow the dancers to discuss their personal experiences with law enforcement and incarceration. As the choreographer I felt it was my responsibility to create a safe environment permitting them to go to these very hard places, which then allowed them to approach the work in a more self-reflective manner. Being in one accord and working as though we had a shared mission to accomplish gave the piece a power that eventually transcended each of us as individuals. In her book Hiking the Horizontal: Field Notes From a Choreographer, Liz Lerman has this to say about collaboration as it relates to the choreographic process: “This is a precious thing, and is one of the powerful aspects of rehearsing. When everyone is committed fully to the project, the room is filled with small and great opportunities for gaining insight into life’s mysteries.”8

In a 2013 essay Kate Pope, a student at the University of Florida College of Fine Arts (UF), discusses the development of her work "Mom plz help me". Pope spent six months conducting dance classes with girls aged 8-18 years at the Alachua Region Detention Center then subsequently transferring what she had learned in her research into choreography for UF students. Her goal was not only to use this research to inform her choreography but more fundamentally to “engage the arts to honor the strength and integrity of individuals who may enter the residential setting feeling marginalized and disempowered.”  Pope describes the residency experience at the Detention Center as both challenging and fulfilling as she was initially met with resistance and minimal curiosity that then grew into an openness and desire for more creative opportunities. Conducting movement classes for individuals who live a life of involuntary confinement made following a lesson plan virtually impossible, as Pope had to negotiate the issues her students were managing on a daily basis. Then, as she mounted "Mom plz help me" on her college dancers, Pope struggled with remaining sensitive to the authenticity of the material so as not to present a stereotypical depiction of life in prison. This process informed her abilities as a teacher, a choreographer and a mentor and offered an artistic outlet for young people struggling with issues of oppression and containment.

In a final example, intense research and collaboration with an array of artists played vital roles in the development of 2014 Bessie Award winner Camille A. Brown’s poignant work, "Mr. Tol E. Rance". With this work Brown effectively evokes dialogue about minstrelsy from a well-researched historical perspective in conjunction with the ways the genre relates to the presentation of the black community in current mainstream media.  Speaking from her personal experiences as an artist finding her footing in the choreographic milieu, Brown also explores the idea of superficiality through the concept of wearing and removing an allegorical mask. Finding inspiration from sources such as Spike Lee’s 2000 film Bamboozled and Mel Watkins’ book On the Real Side, Brown began choreographing sections specifically pertaining to vaudeville and the complexities of its performers. Through an intense collaborative process, she invited her dancers to weigh in with their own research and input on subjects pertaining to the representation of black women in reality shows and other forms of media and the ways in which those references affect the interaction between men and women in the African American community. 

Feeling that the work needed to include the examination of artistic perspectives other than dance, Brown decided to include animators, dramaturges, musicians and theater coaches in the creative process, resulting in a multi-media theatrical production. Brown and her company continue to perform this work in various venues across the country and in her efforts to directly connect with the viewers, they conduct an artist chat immediately following each performance. Brown considers these discussions to be an extension of the presentation and therefore does not allow time for a break in between the final curtain call and the discussion. She also continues to make space for conversation about the work on her website and invites viewers to post their questions and comments as well as join in conversations about topics pertaining to the piece. For Brown, it is imperative that the community understands the work is not a historical depiction nor a blanket statement about race, rather it is an opportunity for the artists and community involved to engage in an open and honest discussion about humanity and the ways in which we perceive each other. In a note about the work she states:

I see pain in our struggle, but I also see joy. It’s a personal story. It’s a Black story. It’s a human story… I want people to see that you aren’t just outside looking in on a Black story. We’re all in the same house – dealing with the same issues one way or another. We ALL wear a mask. We are ALL perceived differently than how we really are. We are ALL put in a box. This is a dialogue, bringing all these issues and emotions to the forefront. I believe this is how we all move closer to understanding each other and the world.10

Taking a concept that carries a great deal of emotional weight and embodying it in a structured performative manner requires a systematic process that differs for each choreographer. But group effort, along with meticulous mental and physical investigation, can result in a work that is both artistically and societally effective.


Bringing the Work to the Community

Traditionally, the presentation of concert dance happens in a theater or similar venue. This most often requires the community to come to the space where the dance is happening. However, there are a few significant choreographers who find their work to be most influential when performed in the actual space of the community it represents.   Envisioning the presentation of concert dance in a non-traditional space can be challenging for a trained dancer who is accustomed to performing in proscenium settings.  However, an artist who chooses to think unconventionally about their means of emotionally and physically connecting with their constituents is capable of making a massive artistic and humanistic impact.

During the fall semester of 2014 I was invited to serve as the Artist in Residence at Virginia Commonwealth University Department of Dance and Choreography where Associate Professor of Dance Judith Steel and I were charged with leading a composition class for 25 sophomores. Judith and I spent the first two months of the semester guiding the students through the process of uncovering new ways to generate movement. As young dancers, they initially struggled to disassociate their bodies from the learned physical vocabulary they had attained during their many years of training in order to discover their own creative voices. Once they seemed to have found a phrase of movement that was authentically theirs, Judith suggested they begin adding different layers of sound to inform their work.

It was remarkable to see how the phrases changed from week to week, however, we both felt that the students’ efforts to share their work often seemed strained. Before showings, when we would gather in a circle and discuss the assignment, the energy among the dancers was calm and personable. However, when we set ourselves up to view the work and the viewers lined up in front of the room while the dancers facing us as if on stage, the energy would transform into something more tense and distant. So, for the dancers’ fourth assignment, we asked them to work in groups, let go of their pre-determined phrases and instead, give more consideration to the location of their work and the integration of their audience. Each group chose a space on campus that was not traditionally used for dance classes or performances. While they were not required to present rehearsed movement, their reason for using the specific space chosen had to be unmistakably clear and the audience needed to feel as if they were a part of the work.  Together, we walked across campus to encounter each group as they danced at a bus stop smoking shelter, in a driveway, and on their own front porch. One group in particular chose to present their work in what is known as the “quad”; which is usually the busiest area on campus. During this time of day, students were bustling through the quad in an effort to get to their perspective classes as the dancers swung from lamp poles, climbed on unmovable structures and lurked behind brick walls. The non-dancers walking through the quad instantly became viewers as well as participants. They were forced to make choices regarding which path to take either to steer clear of the dancers or quite possibly join them. Some chose to stop and watch while others seemed visibly annoyed by the disturbance. Out of all of the groups, this group chose a space that afforded them the most success in integrating their surrounding community into their work. When we returned to our circle for discussion the next day, the dancers shared their newfound comfort with the concept of dance occurring in non-traditional spaces. Most importantly they gained an enhanced understanding of the powerful relationship between dance and the environment in which it is presented. 

Previously mentioned choreographer Liz Lerman founded the multi-generational ensemble The Dance Exchange in 1976 with the intention of creating and sharing site-specific work that made strong connections to the community. From her first site-specific commission, choreographing for 800 jazz, ballet and modern dancers and one flag-tossing, flame-throwing juggler at the Lincoln Memorial, Lerman remained dedicated to presenting dance in non-traditional settings for the purpose of connecting the artists with the community.

Lerman’s engagement of the audience in her work often extends beyond the role of viewer. In a project she developed about the Underground Railroad, she invited the community to join her company in a performance at the Quaker Meeting House in Wilmington, Delaware which was an actual safe house used by abolitionists Thomas Garrett and Harriet Tubman. The performance concluded with a call for audience members to learn gestures from the choreography and become participants in an impromptu performance in the courtyard where Garrett is buried. This dance was done in a circle to eliminate any separation between “dancer” and “non-dancer.” While Lerman does create work for the stage she places great value in shaping dance in the space from which it is inspired. Her choreography has been presented in synagogues shipyards, school buildings and on street corners. Lerman states:

Site-specific work offers a choreographer the chance to affect audiences’ ideas about art and architecture through the impact of dancing in a space.  I think we are at our most successful when we make it possible for people to undergo a fresh understanding of their surroundings, of an idea, or of their own relationship to artistic experience.11

Following in Lerman’s footsteps, choreographer and activist Tamara LaDonna Williams has created a program that takes her work on a site-specific tour of under-served neighborhoods in Brooklyn, NY. Her company, Moving Spirits, Inc., along with many other local dance organizations, has joined forces to present their project Dancing in the Parks, a compilation of free public workshops and performances presented in public housing parks in the Bedford Stuyvesant and Bushwick areas of Brooklyn. The intention of this program is to connect with the surrounding communities through modern dance, a medium they are not often exposed to. The free workshops offer movement classes as well as forums in which community members can openly express their concerns and desires for a better living environment. The public is also invited to attend the full performance featuring works by various professional dance companies as well as students from local organizations. In all of the work Willams does with Moving Spirits, Inc. she remains passionately committed to addressing the needs and concerns of her community.

David Gere, another socially-engaged artist, began using dance as a way of combating the HIV/AIDS epidemic in the 1980s. Now the director of the UCLA Art & Global Health Center, Gere developed the project Make Art/Stop AIDS when he discovered the direct connection between art and social awareness. Collaborating with students and fellow artists at UCLA, Gere created this project out of a need to start a movement that uses performance art to promote HIV/AIDS awareness and prevention. When the AIDS epidemic became explosive in India, Gere received a grant that permitted him to connect Make Art/ Stop AIDS with artists there. Another project Gere has collaborated on with UCLA is the Sex Squad, whose purpose is to connect directly with high school students and break the stigma surrounding sex and AIDS through the medium of art and performance. This program has had such massive success with HIV testing among sexually active students that the Ford Foundation has encouraged Gere to take the program to under-served communities in the Deep South.

Gere understands that artists are not usually considered in discussions surrounding research and healthcare however, he believes their input is invaluable. In a 2014 interview for the UCnet he said:

I [know] that artists have a role to play in all matters of health.  This may be counterintuitive for some, because generally when working on a health-based project you think you want all the white-coat people- doctors, researchers, public health folks.  But, the artist knows about methods of communication, how to unleash creativity, how to meaningfully convey essential information.12

The efforts made by these choreographers and the tremendous effects of their work indicates that in dialogue about various sociopolitical issues, art can be used as a medium through which views can be clearly expressed and ultimately a vehicle through which changes can be made. 

Conclusion: Making Art Useful

In the chapter of her book entitled A Return to Inquiry, Lerman poses a series of questions challenging herself and other artists who  use their work to advocate for social justice, to evaluate its purpose and effectiveness within the community. She asks, 

What do we mean by change? How does change happen? What is the rehearsal for change? Do we consider the moment of change to be the only moment of value? Who is doing the changing? Why is change valued? What is wrong with contentment? Does merely pointing out a problem make art useful?13

Lerman’s final question is powerful, in that sociopolitical artists must constantly monitor the issues being addressed and the works’ level of effectiveness. Two days before "A Movement for Five" premiered, I contacted Raymond Santana, one of the members of the CP5, via Facebook to make him aware of the piece and to invite him to one of the performances. Without fully understanding who I was or what I had done, he immediately agreed to travel to Philadelphia with his family and graciously shared his time and appreciation with the entire cast. Following the performance, we discussed the work and it was enthralling to have an opportunity to engage in a dialogue about the piece with one of its actual subjects. It was as if the work itself was speaking to me from the inside out. In many ways Raymond had interpreted aspects of the piece more literally than I however, I found this to be intriguing being that it was his personal experience. His spirit, humility and resilience given all that he had endured was inspiring. The day after the performance, I received a text message from Raymond thanking me for joining him in the “fight against injustice for our people.” It became evident to me that he had a clear understanding of dance’s vital role in bringing awareness to and igniting dialogue about his experience. Our connection was fueled by the innate movement living inside of us and the social movement we both became a part of.

1. Dunagan, Colleen. "Dance, Knowledge, and Power." Topoi 24.1 (2005): 29-41. Web. back to text

2. Martin, Randy. Critical Moves: Dance Studies in Theory and Politics. Durham: Duke UP, 1998. Print, 13. back to text

3. Phillips-Fein, Jesse. "Dance and Activism." Encyclopedia of Activism and Social Justice (2007): n. pag. Web. back to text

4. Phillips-Fein, “Dance and Activism.” back to text

5. Lefevre, Camille. "Walker Art Center." Sage Cowles: A Dance Activist’s Life — Magazine —. N.p., 2 Dec. 2013. Web. 09 June 2015. back to text

6. Gottschild, Brenda Dixon. The Black Dancing Body: A Geography from Coon to Cool. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003. Print, 93-94. back to text

7. Martin, Randy. Critical Moves: Dance Studies in Theory and Politics. Durham: Duke UP, 1998. Print, 13. back to text

8. Lerman, Liz. Hiking the Horizontal: Field Notes from a Choreographer. Middletown, CT: Wesleyan UP, 2011. Print, 114. back to text

9. Pope, Kate. "Dance Activism: Choreographic Embodiment for Human Rights." Dance Activism: Choreographic Embodiment for Human Rights. N.p., 2013. Web. 09 June 2015. <>. back to text

10. Camille A Brown Dancers. N.p., n.d. Web. 09 June 2015. <>. back to text

11. Lerman, Hiking the Horizontal: Field Notes from a Choreographer, 122. back to text

12. Daily, Mary. "Art as Activist." Art as Activist. N.p., 26 Nov. 2014. Web. 09 June 2015. <>. back to text

13. Lerman, Hiking the Horizontal: Field Notes from a Choreographer, 245.  back to text

Works Cited

Camille A Brown Dancers. N.p., n.d. Web. 09 June 2015. <>.

Campbell, R.M. "DANCE : A Test of Faith : Choreographer Bill T. Jones Confronts Religion, Racism and AIDS in 'The Last Supper at Uncle Tom's Cabin'" Los Angeles Times. Los Angeles Times, 10 Mar. 1991. Web. 09 June 2015. <>.

Daily, Mary. "Art as Activist." Art as Activist. N.p., 26 Nov. 2014. Web. 09 June 2015. <>.

Dunagan, Colleen. "Dance, Knowledge, and Power." Topoi 24.1 (2005): 29-41. Web.

Gottschild, Brenda Dixon. The Black Dancing Body: A Geography from Coon to Cool. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003. Print.

"Home." Tamara LaDonna Moving Spirits, Inc. N.p., n.d. Web. 09 June 2015. <>.

"Kyle Abraham /." Abraham.In.Motion. N.p., n.d. Web. 09 June 2015. <>.

Lefevre, Camille. "Walker Art Center." Sage Cowles: A Dance Activist’s Life — Magazine