Category: Uncategorized

On Saturday, October 28, I had the opportunity to watch Manhattan-based Ballet Hispanico perform at the historic Detroit Opera House. Their triple-bill program featured works made exclusively by women and told politically-charged narratives of those women’s experiences. All three pieces, beginning with “Linea Recta” by Annabell Lopez Ochoa, followed by “Con Brazos Abiertos” by Michelle Manzanaeles, and “Catorce Dieceiseis”by Tania Perez-Salas, were intelligently composed, beautifully designed, and incredibly danced by the company’s fifteen dancers.

The importance of an exclusively-female program is easily overlooked. At first glance, the dance world can seem to be a women’s world. Dance studios, classes, and companies are always looking for more boys and men to recruit and hire, enticing them with scholarships and free tuition. And after all, the legendary George Balanchine once said that, “Ballet is Woman.”

Yet, according to the New York Times, in 2016, the New York City Ballet performed 58 ballets in its season that were all choreographed by men. The Royal Ballet in London has not commissioned a woman choreographer in over a hundred years, and the Bolshoi Ballet in Russia only had one woman work on a single ballet in its season. In a different article about author Rupi Kaur’s work, New York Times writer Tariro Mzezwa concluded that “Art by women and art intended for women can be derided as common, popular and unsophisticated.” Each of the three works that were performed on Saturday night serve to challenge that statement.

“Linea Recta” by Annabell Lopez Ochoa opened with a striking image of a woman in a bright red dress. Her long, ruffled skirt swirled behind her as she started dancing, first as a soloist, and then with four men. She whirled and stomped, kicked and leaped, leading the men around the stage and then gesturing the other women to join her. United in their strength and individuality, the piece highlighted the strength in each dancer, as well as their willingness to give in to each other to create a stronger whole.

“Con Brazos Abiertos” by Michelle Manzanaeles dealt with Manzaneles’s experiences as a first-generation Mexican-American and the images and stereotypes that went along with that label. Utilizing a diverse score from bilingual spoken word to Radiohead, Manzaneles created an intimate look into cultural dichotomies that are impossible to reconcile. Perhaps the most powerful image in the piece was that of a single female dancer simply lying onstage, the majority of her body covered under a giant sombrero. Given today’s current political climate, the image was powerful and heartbreaking in its simplicity.

The final work, “Catorce Dieceisies” by Tania Perez-Salas, was the most contemporary of the three. There was no obvious Latino influence: the costumes were all flesh-toned and form-fitting, the score was Baroque. Yet, that choice in of itself is a strong assertion. In an Interview with the Detroit Free Press, company dancer Melissa Fernandez said that, “In the 1970s, it was kind of taboo to be Hispanic and a dancer…today, we can be dancers. And choreographers…it was the expression of a contemporary female voice. A female who happened to be Hispanic.” Fiery yet delicate, wild yet controlled, virtuosic yet human, Ballet Hispanico’s performance was one to remember.

Autumn begins with a slight breeze, barely even noticeable. It begins with a shiver on the way to class. People start walking quickly through the Diag, eager to move toward the building full of artificially warm air. There is a palpable smell of cinnamon donuts and apple cider in Mason Hall as clubs start to change their wares, like the green foliage transforming red and yellow, drifting down on the wind. Everything is the same, but different. People wear new clothes and new faces. Faces of resignation perhaps because it is approaching two full months of homework, papers, and exams, but also, hope for the coming holidays. There is talk of Halloween, Thanksgiving, and even Christmas. People don’t want to see time passing, but it engulfs them all the same. This is a University campus, after all. There is nothing to do, but change and grow into people we would barely recognize. Those young high school seniors who dutifully wrote their college essays, who took their AP classes so seriously, are strangers to us. All that matters is the here and now, a celebration of the present, because we know it can’t last long. Everything is changing, so we salute that, yelling into the cold air until our lungs give out. Thousands of voices raised as a football trembles between the quarterback and the wide receiver’s outstretched hands over the end zone. We yell because the world can’t ignore us any longer. We are not children to be pushed aside. We are not teenagers to be prodded into place. We are who we are, but not yet, who we are going to be. It is a rare comradery that we’ve all found here at the University of Michigan. Wolverines, young and old, gathered together in one place for a shared purpose. Somehow, despite being on thousands of individual tracks, there is a sense of togetherness. We are all sharing the same experience in different shades. Someday we will have a collective memory, too, of this time. It will be a time to look back on fondly, the foundation of many comforting memories when we get a little lonely or disappointed. It is also a time that we can return to as alumni proudly marching down the football field as a new student section filled with fresh faces cheer us on. This is the place of so many hopeful endeavors and profound failures. And when we are inevitably unsuccessful, there is someone to lean on and a person willing to listen. There is no way to summarize the Michigan experience for it is always changing, like the people who live here. We may decide to leave, but we choose to leave a part of us here behind. Perhaps someday someone else will sit down in our favorite spot in the Hatcher library and they won’t even know that the seat was already filled by a remnant of our former selves. Everything ends. But then there is a slight breeze, a chill in the air, and it begins all over again.

Superhero movies are oftentimes an overlooked movie genre. The majority of them are, at best, semi-predictable, unrealistic, cheesy films that are basically retellings of the same story over and over again: the underdog triumphs over the villain, learns an important and life-affirming lesson, and makes it back home in time to finish his homework and eat dinner. Yet, the superhero genre continues to flourish and grow today. I believe, as a self-proclaimed superhero fanatic, that there is an ineffable sense of satisfaction when watching a normal, everyday human become super. Within every semi-predictable, unrealistic, cheesy film I consume, I am able to see some part of myself in the hero on screen. Humanity is what keeps superhero movies relevant today.

As with every piece of art, superhero movies have their flaws. There has always been a blatant lack of female superheroes present within every fictional universe and world. More often than not, the female presence in superhero comics, television shows, and movies has been reduced to love interest, damsel in distress, or nerdy sidekick. It is important to note that in the last few years, female superheroes such as Wonder Woman, Supergirl, and Black Widow have risen to prominence in the film and television worlds. This emergence of strong, powerful women is not to be downplayed: these are necessary steps forward in breaking the stereotype that only men can be super. However, I feel that there is a lack of humanity to each of these women and how they are portrayed.
Obviously, there has to be a certain lack of human-ness in every superhero: that is what makes them super. However, I question the lack of human-ness present in the fact that these women are wearing high heeled boots and leather cat suits to fight off evil. I question the fact that each of them are tall and leggy with incredible hair, and each of their superhero personas are very scantily clad in spandex or a mini-skirt or both. I question the fact that these women’s costumes seem to show off her body more than assist her in getting her job done. Logistically, chasing a villain would simply be easier in tennis shoes and leggings rather than a skirt and heels. I question the fact that it is socially acceptable to over-sexualize superwomen, because presenting superwomen in an overly-sexual light gives young girls and women the impression that to be powerful, strong, and respected, your body has to be on display. It teaches young boys and men that powerful women can and should look and dress a certain way.
This is not to say that male superheroes are perfectly depicted. An argument could also be made that supermen are often clad in tight, full body outfits like their female counterparts. However, men’s costumes never seem to be compromising a superhero’s ability to do their job in order to show a little more skin. Their legitimacy and place in the world as a superhero is rarely questioned, and their ability to be a superhero is rarely based on how they look. In fact, many male superheroes are masked: Spiderman, Batman, the Flash, Green Lantern, and Captain America, among others.
Film and television are arguably the most pervasive forms of art today, especially because of the rise of the screen age. These characters have the power to inspire a wider demographic of people than any other art form. I believe that social change lies within the power of such art and media. I therefore hope to one day see a female superhero that is super simply because of her humanity on the big and silver screens.