by Charles Green

Karen Valby’s compelling new history tells the forgotten story of Dance Theatre of Harlem, a Black ballet company that gave dancers of color the opportunity to perform and star when most doors in the industry were closed to them. Formed in 1968 by Arthur Mitchell after Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s assassination, the company was soon performing around the world, playing before Queen Elizabeth II and David Bowie and meeting celebrities like Mick Jagger. Celebrated as groundbreaking dancers at the time, DTH is not widely known today. During the pandemic, five of the company’s founding ballerinas reunited for regular Zoom sessions to reminisce and share their legacy with the world; Valby’s book compiles their stories.

Although all five dancers shared a love for ballet, each came from different backgrounds. Lydia Abarca grew up in the New York housing projects, having abandoned any hopes of actually performing. Sheila Rohan, from Staten Island, initially lied about her age (she was twenty-eight) and claimed she had no children in order to join the company; when she finally told Mitchell, he gave her a slight raise and was more lenient if she showed up late. Gayle McKinney-Griffith, the daughter of a mechanical engineer, grew up in suburban Connecticut; she would later become the company’s ballet mistress. Marcia Sells was from an elite Black community in Cincinnati whose family hosted DTH when they were on tour. Karlya Shelton-Benjamin, the only Black dancer in the Colorado Concert Ballet, was inspired to join DTH after seeing Abarca on the cover of Dance Magazine.

These ballerinas worked incredibly hard both on and off-stage. On tour, they would have to unload their own equipment from the bus and often prepared makeshift stages by pouring soda on the floors to make them sticky. They learned how to dye their ballet shoes and tights brown, experimenting to find shades that suited each of them.

Mitchell was a fiercely demanding personality, pushing the dancers to perfection; he was also verbally abusive, frequently berating the dancers about their weight. On one tour, he sniffed at each dancers’ hotel room door to tell who was baking their complimentary pastries. He also drove away board members and advisors who dared suggest improvements to his vision; despite his talent and ambition, he was his own worst enemy. Yet Mitchell worked well with children, letting the neighborhood kids take lessons in their street clothes, showing them how dance techniques could help them jump higher in basketball, and breaking down street dances into ballet moves.

Valby goes into great detail about the five dancers, even presenting entire chapters in their own words. Abarca, however, seems to be the main character of the book. It makes sense, as she was the “star” of DTH and her story is one of the most dramatic. After leaving the company, she taught Michael Jackson the moves for the movie version of The Wiz; following her dance career, she married and took administrative jobs, falling into alcoholism before her daughter helped her back to sobriety. Indeed, The Swans of Harlem begins with Abarca’s granddaughter confused after a school presentation where classmates honored current ballet star Misty Copeland, wondering if the stories she had heard about her grandmother’s pioneering performances were true. By spending so much time on Abarca, the book almost unwillingly turns her into a Copeland figure, a lone history-making woman, whereas the dancers of DTH shaped history as a group.

The bond between these women, even decades later, is powerful to witness. In several Zoom sessions, Abarca shares deeply personal stories, including of having an abortion in 1968 and of Mitchell once kissing her after an event. When the others are asked if they felt resentment for Abarca getting so many of the lead roles and being Mitchell’s clear favorite, they defend her, knowing it was not her intention to steal their thunder. There is also frank acknowledgement that Mitchell preferred lighter-skinned and thinner dancers; even while he wanted to promote and celebrate Black dancers, he was influenced by traditional white ballet.

In 2008, DTH went on hiatus for five years due to financial difficulties. During this time, publicity heightened around Misty Copeland as a groundbreaking Black ballerina, which contributed to the company becoming forgotten. (The dancers and Copeland meet at several events, and while Copeland gratefully acknowledges them and the dancers are gracious about her stardom, some awkwardness and resentment is evident.) The five dancers contemplate other reasons for their erasure as well, noting the tendency many women have to downplay their talents and how Mitchell encouraged them to consider their individual accomplishments as the company’s.

Well-researched and written with an easy, flowing style, The Swans of Harlem gives a platform to these talented women who have been hidden for too long. It also raises questions about race, gender, and publicity in the arts, and reminds us that even now, few dancers of color belong to U.S. ballet companies.