Courtesy Meg Brooker
As the presidential election approaches, it's a particularly meaningful time to remember that we are celebrating the centennial of the 19th Amendment, when women earned the right to vote after a decades-long battle.
Movement was more than a metaphor for the fight for women's suffrage—dancers played a real role, most notably Florence Fleming Noyes, who performed her riveting solo Dance of Freedom in 1914 to embody the struggle for women's rights.
This fall, Middle Tennessee State University director of dance Meg Brooker is reconstructing Dance of Freedom on 11 of her students. A Noyes Rhythm teacher and an Isadora Duncan scholar, Brooker is passionate about bringing historic dance practices into a contemporary context.
<img lazy-loadable="true" src="https://assets.rebelmouse.io/eyJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiIsInR5cCI6IkpXVCJ9.eyJpbWFnZSI6Imh0dHBzOi8vYXNzZXRzLnJibC5tcy8yNDU1MTkyNS9vcmlnaW4uanBnIiwiZXhwaXJlc19hdCI6MTY0NDYyNTM1Mn0.-Fgvo-mO5NAxsuWd6bXWuO0YDs_NGVF0ceOGct4UHR0/img.jpg?width=980" id="6dd89" class="rm-shortcode" data-rm-shortcode-id="6a1a72c8dd96af9ace6177675328c93d" data-rm-shortcode-name="rebelmouse-image" alt="Noyes, in a white tunic, reaching her arms upwards" />
A still from the archival video of Noyes's "Dance of Freedom." Photo courtesy Dawson City Museum and Historical Society Collection, Library and Archives Canada
<p>Noyes (1871–1928) may be the most famous dance innovator that you've never heard of, and is often confused with the Duncan imitators of the day (both women had roots in American Delsartism, based on the work of François Delsarte).</p>
<p>Noyes founded the Noyes School of Rhythm in 1912 at Carnegie Hall, with branches in major cities throughout the U.S. In 1919, she established the permanent home for her summer program at Shepherd's Nine in Portland, Connecticut, which is still going today, run by descendants of the original practitioners of Noyes' technique.</p><p>Noyes' work is divided into two parts: the technique class, where students study sequential movement patterns, core-distal initiation, oppositions and twists, developmental patterns and basic movement mechanics, and the recreational class, where movement is guided by the teacher's narration of phenomena in the natural world. Brooker describes it as a poetic type of instruction that involves play, improvisation and deep rest.</p>
<div class="htl-ad"
data-unit="dance_teacher/dt_desktop_medrec"
data-sizes="0x0:|1024x0:300x250"
data-prebid="0x0:|1024x0:dt_desktop_medrec"
data-refresh="viewable"
data-refresh-secs="45"
></div>
<img lazy-loadable="true" src="https://assets.rebelmouse.io/eyJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiIsInR5cCI6IkpXVCJ9.eyJpbWFnZSI6Imh0dHBzOi8vYXNzZXRzLnJibC5tcy8yNDU1MjAwOS9vcmlnaW4uanBnIiwiZXhwaXJlc19hdCI6MTYzMjAzMDc3OX0.eXqzkOAPErEsQeV7RzoiXAMTG-LiW7ldf0KhkTj1YYs/img.jpg?width=980" id="62350" class="rm-shortcode" data-rm-shortcode-id="736e22b933483b97a45c0d6ee6d8b636" data-rm-shortcode-name="rebelmouse-image" alt="Four masked dancers reach to the side, as a video of Noyes plays behind them" />
Brooker's students dance with a video of Noyes. Photo courtesy Brooker
<p>In addition to reconstructing Noyes' <em>Dance of Freedom</em>, Brooker's students will also be making their own phrases to teach one another based on the theme of being bound and struggling to break free. The final product will be a film of her students' collaboration, juxtaposed with the Noyes historical piece, presented as part of the Middle Tennessee's virtual fall dance concert on November 21.</p><p>Brooker will also be doing a workshop on the reconstruction and recontextualization process at the National Dance Education Organization virtual conference on October 25. "I'm framing the <em>Dance of Freedom</em> reconstruction as a way for educators to engage students in the history of the suffrage movement through dance, and also as a way to examine the racism in the history of the women's suffrage movement," says Brooker.</p><p>Noyes appeared in suffrage demonstrations in Washington, DC, New York City and Boston, as well as a demonstration held the day before the 1913 inauguration of Woodrow Wilson. "Half of the people did not have a voice in choosing the president," Brooker says. "It was a very intentional choice to have this public demonstration a day before."</p>
<img lazy-loadable="true" src="https://assets.rebelmouse.io/eyJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiIsInR5cCI6IkpXVCJ9.eyJpbWFnZSI6Imh0dHBzOi8vYXNzZXRzLnJibC5tcy8yNDU1MjAxNS9vcmlnaW4uanBnIiwiZXhwaXJlc19hdCI6MTY2Mzc4NjU1OX0.xUWcewnpZ4gNHFljn8xaS58xKA4gGvTJ5tO04KR9G78/img.jpg?width=980" id="c034c" class="rm-shortcode" data-rm-shortcode-id="f3a7966d0461d10379c26a3afae1b630" data-rm-shortcode-name="rebelmouse-image" alt="Noyes, in a dark tunic reaching upward with one hand, is surrounded by a group of women and girls in white tunics" />
Noyes in Washington, DC in March 1913. Photo courtesy Library of Congress
<div class="htl-ad"
data-unit="dance_teacher/dt_desktop_medrec"
data-sizes="0x0:|1024x0:300x250"
data-prebid="0x0:|1024x0:dt_desktop_medrec"
data-refresh="viewable"
data-refresh-secs="45"
></div>
<p>Brooker started her project by contextualizing the dance with this information, exploring with her students the complexities of race and gender that plagued the women's movement then and still today.</p><p>"We talked about how the white suffragists did not stand up for Black women, and how the white suffrage leaders made a choice to segregate the historic 1913 march in Washington," she says. Brooker reminded her students that the 19th Amendment states "The right of citizens of the United States to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State on account of sex," which left women of color vulnerable to voter suppression based on their race.</p><p>Brooker feels that <em>Dance of Freedom</em> might allude to the fact that there was still much work to be done. "Noyes was highly trained in Delsarte, and she understood the metaphorical relationship between gesture and expression," Booker says. "She starts wrapped in 10 yards of chiffon, struggling to free herself. There is a moment when she frees her upper body, but her lower body is still bound." A newspaper article from 1914 describing the dance used the phrase "freedom is only half won."</p>
<img lazy-loadable="true" src="https://assets.rebelmouse.io/eyJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiIsInR5cCI6IkpXVCJ9.eyJpbWFnZSI6Imh0dHBzOi8vYXNzZXRzLnJibC5tcy8yNDU1MjA1OS9vcmlnaW4uanBnIiwiZXhwaXJlc19hdCI6MTY0ODg1MTI0MH0.JtEb28dqqCn1TA8Ttmb-qrMo9wL_Px5E36WgFIepEZg/img.jpg?width=980" id="7a72b" class="rm-shortcode" data-rm-shortcode-id="c75ceb8d05f34ec042e40350411d370d" data-rm-shortcode-name="rebelmouse-image" alt="Five masked students sit on the ground, reaching upwards. A video of Noyes plays behind them" />
Courtesy Brooker
<p>"We are using this moment in the dance to interrogate what happened historically with regard to racism and women's suffrage, creating a space to ask how far we have really come in the last 100 years," Brooker says.</p><p>She had originally planned to do the reconstruction based on an unidentified newspaper clipping found in the Noyes archives. The clipping contained an astonishingly high level of detail, enough for her to piece together the work and fill in the blanks with her fluency of Noyes technique.</p><p>Then, something extraordinary happened. She was contacted through her website about a short clip of Noyes dancing in <em>Dawson City: Frozen in Time</em>, a documentary about rare newsreels unearthed during a construction project. Before long, she had acquired the entire newsreel from the Dawson City Museum and Historical Society Collection, Library and Archives Canada, which contained a title slide that read "Woman's emancipation from her bonds-- a suffragist pantomime-- is symbolized by Florence Fleming Noyes," along with her performing <em>Dance of Freedom</em> in its entirety.</p>
<div class="htl-ad"
data-unit="dance_teacher/dt_desktop_medrec"
data-sizes="0x0:|1024x0:300x250"
data-prebid="0x0:|1024x0:dt_desktop_medrec"
data-refresh="viewable"
data-refresh-secs="45"
></div>
<img lazy-loadable="true" src="https://assets.rebelmouse.io/eyJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiIsInR5cCI6IkpXVCJ9.eyJpbWFnZSI6Imh0dHBzOi8vYXNzZXRzLnJibC5tcy8yNDU1MjA2OS9vcmlnaW4uanBnIiwiZXhwaXJlc19hdCI6MTY2MTI4NjExOH0.vIHjohfaX17IVWPb3r6EhsgzRRCX8t2RBRq6kOdyVII/img.jpg?width=980" id="68d20" class="rm-shortcode" data-rm-shortcode-id="9be31354f3ab7cbc5af763337dfa09cf" data-rm-shortcode-name="rebelmouse-image" alt="A grainy black and white images of Noyes, in a white tunic draped over her head, leaning to the side." />
Courtesy Dawson City Museum and Historical Society Collection, Library and Archives Canada
<p>"I had chills," recalls Brooker. "It's the only footage we have of Noyes dancing. It's amazing to me to see the clarity of her gestures, which is that Delsarte influence."</p><p>Now, she is able to use the actual footage of Noyes for both the reconstruction and in the final film, which will include dancers moving in front of the projection of Noyes to amplify the tension between the past and the present.</p><p>It would be six more years after Noyes was filmed performing <em>Dance of Freedom</em> until the 19th Amendment was passed, and 51 years until the Voting Rights Act. Brooker and her students realize there's much more work to be done, even today.</p><p>"We are kinesthetically examining the relationship between individual agency and collective social responsibility," Brooker says. "We want to keep the complexity of that question visible in what we create. We are not planning to offer easy answers."</p>
Keep reading...
Show less
Justin Boccitto teaches a hybrid class. Photo courtesy Boccitto
Just as teachers were getting comfortable with teaching virtual classes, many studios are adding an extra challenge into the mix: in-person students learning alongside virtual students. Such hybrid classes are meant to keep class sizes down and to give students options to take class however they're comfortable.
But dividing your attention between virtual students and masked and socially distant in-person students—and giving them each a class that meets their needs—is no easy feat.
Dance Teacher asked four teachers what they've learned so far.
Audio and Video Setup Are Crucial
<p>Making sure your virtual students can see and hear everything—in a way that doesn't interfere with learning in the studio—requires careful setup.</p><p>"Since we all wear masks, it's sometimes hard for Zoom people to hear," says Seattle-based dance teacher Kirsten Cooper. To avoid having to always get up close to the computer microphone, Cooper suggests teachers invest in a wireless mic.</p><p>In his classes, Broadway Dance Center instructor and Common Ground co-founder Justin Boccitto wears Bluetooth headphones so he can hear when his Zoom tap dancers unmute themselves for a question. "I thought it might distract me, but I have two minds going now. Half of my mind is on the people in the room and then I'm constantly thinking about the people on Zoom," says Boccitto.</p><p>Dance coach and former Rockette Rhonda Malkin tried a few different camera angles during class and asked her virtual clients what they preferred. Her current setup has gotten positive feedback. "I put the camera in the back of the room so that the dancers could see everyone, including myself," she says. "They would see the back version of me and then the mirror version of me."</p><p>Some teachers have had success with using <a href="https://www.dance-teacher.com/virtual-dance-class-technology-2646952345.html" target="_self">two cameras </a>at two different angles. Or, to get a shot of the whole room, teachers can use a wide-angle camera, like a GoPro.</p><p>No matter what setup you choose, it's probably going to require you to get to the studio earlier than normal to get comfortable and prepared, says Cooper.</p><img lazy-loadable="true" src="https://assets.rebelmouse.io/eyJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiIsInR5cCI6IkpXVCJ9.eyJpbWFnZSI6Imh0dHBzOi8vYXNzZXRzLnJibC5tcy8yNDU0MzYwNS9vcmlnaW4uanBnIiwiZXhwaXJlc19hdCI6MTYzMTk3MDQyMX0._t0p50IN9nGyvs70YloPd9qqWWDCckrqQqVg3LD5huc/img.jpg?width=980" id="903f9" class="rm-shortcode" data-rm-shortcode-id="5230f1f137f7a750f9b96b422a6c7148" data-rm-shortcode-name="rebelmouse-image" alt="A group of women in character shoes and masks reach upwards at an angle in a studio, with a camera setup behind them" />
Rhonda Malkin's hybrid class
Courtesy Malkin
Include Zoom Students in Conversations
<p>With some students in the studio and some on Zoom, it's especially important to make sure virtual students feel included, not like an afterthought. "I always have everyone in the room say 'Hi' to everyone on Zoom when we start and when we finish, just so it feels inclusive," says Cooper.</p><p>When Boccitto has his in-person students form a tap freestyle circle, he pulls the camera into the circle to incorporate the virtual students. "I'm trying to make the experience for the people on Zoom as authentic towards being there as possible," he says.</p><div class="htl-ad"
data-unit="dance_teacher/dt_desktop_medrec"
data-sizes="0x0:|1024x0:300x250"
data-prebid="0x0:|1024x0:dt_desktop_medrec"
data-refresh="viewable"
data-refresh-secs="45"
></div>
<img lazy-loadable="true" src="https://assets.rebelmouse.io/eyJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiIsInR5cCI6IkpXVCJ9.eyJpbWFnZSI6Imh0dHBzOi8vYXNzZXRzLnJibC5tcy8yNDU0MzU1OC9vcmlnaW4uanBnIiwiZXhwaXJlc19hdCI6MTY0NzI4MDk3OX0.5yR6KCh3fU9yjMoWzDXqWglgOCnCwsXTbTAnNpbZDZY/img.jpg?width=980" id="b7579" class="rm-shortcode" data-rm-shortcode-id="3b44ec3a3c0b2ca9940d54d5eb3a6302" data-rm-shortcode-name="rebelmouse-image" alt="A group of students stretch, while Cooper sits on the floor looking at a Zoom screen full of students with her computer propped up on a chair" />
Kirsten Cooper teaches a hybrid class
Courtesy Cooper
Divide and Conquer
<p>At New York Theatre Ballet, a second instructor watches over the virtual dancers in a separate room and gives them corrections, says founder Diana Byer. With this system, the in-studio instructor can focus on the dancers in the room while dancers on Zoom still receive individual corrections.</p><p>Similarly, Boccitto has an assistant focus on the in-person students while he attends to the virtual ones. "I think that personal attention goes a long way for the people who are on Zoom," he says.</p>Have Modifications in Mind
<p>While some students have limited space at home, others have a whole studio to dance in, so offering multiple versions of combinations is key. For across-the-floor combinations, Cooper either gives virtual students a stationary variation of the in-person step, or asks them to break the phrase into multiple parts. "I say to them, 'Just do one eight-count in your space and then go back and do the second eight-count,'" she says.</p><p>At New York Theatre Ballet, instructors give the same combination to both groups of students but give a different traveling pattern to those on Zoom.</p><div class="htl-ad"
data-unit="dance_teacher/dt_desktop_medrec"
data-sizes="0x0:|1024x0:300x250"
data-prebid="0x0:|1024x0:dt_desktop_medrec"
data-refresh="viewable"
data-refresh-secs="45"
></div>
<img lazy-loadable="true" src="https://assets.rebelmouse.io/eyJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiIsInR5cCI6IkpXVCJ9.eyJpbWFnZSI6Imh0dHBzOi8vYXNzZXRzLnJibC5tcy8yNDU0MzY2MC9vcmlnaW4uanBnIiwiZXhwaXJlc19hdCI6MTY1MDYzNjk4NH0.wWLaPbwLsMQk-G2AYlj-jSdqYKuN2nico2BMvm2aHZM/img.jpg?width=980" id="5b114" class="rm-shortcode" data-rm-shortcode-id="72580e8b44605a51938fa7cf50f310c4" data-rm-shortcode-name="rebelmouse-image" alt="Byer, in the studio, watching a Zoom screen of students at barre" />
Diana Byer
Courtesy Byer
Use Asynchronous Videos for Individual Feedback
<p>Malkin has virtual students send her videos of themselves doing combinations from her classes. "What I say to virtual students is, 'Learn the material that I teach that day, and then video yourself doing it so that I can give you feedback personally,'" she says. This way she can focus on giving feedback to her in-person students during the class rather than constantly scanning the Zoom screen, resulting in more individual attention for everyone.</p>
Keep reading...
Show less
All photos by Ryan Heffington
"Annnnnnnd—we're back!"
Ryan Heffington is kneeling in front of his iPhone, looking directly into the camera, smiling behind his bushy mustache. He's in his house in the desert near Joshua Tree, California, phone propped on the floor so it stays steady, his bright shorty shorts, tank top and multiple necklaces in full view. Music is already playing—imagine you're at a club—and soon he's swaying and bouncing from side to side, the beat infusing his bones.
<p>"Hey, London! Sweden in the house!" As people join <a href="https://www.instagram.com/ryan.heffington/?hl=en" target="_blank">the Instagram feed</a>, he greets dancers from all over the globe as though they were walking into the studio. "Hi, India! Oh, there's Ashley!" This is how, for the last seven months, Heffington has started his über-popular once-daily, now-weekly dance-class-turned-spiritual-experience, SWEATFEST.</p><p>If you've searched "quarantine dance class," chances are you've stumbled upon Heffington's—a high-energy, easy-to-follow class that melds yoga, meditation, contemporary dance, aerobics and club dancing (with costumes and celebrity guests, to boot) into an hour-long sweaty pocket of joy. Back in March, he had around 500 viewers ("I thought my students in L.A. would take class, at least," he says). Today, his classes have reached up to an astonishing 100,000 students, and have garnered praise from everyone, including Reese Witherspoon and J.Lo. His Instagram feed is full of comments like "Biggest smile of my day" and "This is everything" and "You are just pure spirit when you dance."</p>
<img lazy-loadable="true" src="https://assets.rebelmouse.io/eyJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiIsInR5cCI6IkpXVCJ9.eyJpbWFnZSI6Imh0dHBzOi8vYXNzZXRzLnJibC5tcy8yNDUzMTU1Ni9vcmlnaW4uanBnIiwiZXhwaXJlc19hdCI6MTYzNTQxNTcyMX0.vCA1swaoF8hyaieyt1uEvBwYTFseQyQV1iJtF7QeFbw/img.jpg?width=980" id="c4c98" class="rm-shortcode" data-rm-shortcode-id="d791e61f24b9ba9e257826fe2681a768" data-rm-shortcode-name="rebelmouse-image" alt="A close-up portrait of Heffington, wearing a dark blue button down and staring intently into the camera. Behind him, a wall plastered with papers that have notes for his virtual classes" />
<p>Before quarantine, Heffington was best known for being Hollywood's go-to guy for quirky choreography, with credits on music videos like Sia's "Chandelier" and Arcade Fire's "We Exist," television shows from "Transparent" to "Pose" to "The OA," and movies like <em>Baby Driver</em>. But long before he was a household name amongst commercial-dance aficionados, he was a teacher.</p><p>"Teaching has always been an outlet for creativity," Heffington says. "As a choreographer, I had a space to go every week to instruct and communicate a new language to my students. That is what helped shape my movement vocabulary and created community."</p><p>Before opening his own studio, Heffington taught for 15 years all over Los Angeles. His classes were a hybrid of his own making—a meld of contemporary, club dancing, modern, disco, and punk rock. They were not an instant success, however, with sometimes as few as three students in attendance. "I would show up no matter what," he says. "That's been instilled in my work ethic."</p><p>But Heffington's popularity shifted when he started offering his classes to "the masses," as he puts it. He became notorious for organizing wild underground dance performance/parties in clubs all over Los Angeles. Club-goers swarmed him, wanting to know how to dance like him. So he started Sweaty Sundays and Wet Wednesdays—at 10 pm, in the clubs. "Seventy people would show up, grab a drink and get on the dance floor." The moves themselves weren't all that different from his typical classes, but instead of using dance terms, he'd play around: "tour jeté" would become "speed skater." You don't need to know the lingo to dance, seemed to be his message.</p>
<div class="htl-ad"
data-unit="dance_teacher/dt_desktop_medrec"
data-sizes="0x0:|1024x0:300x250"
data-prebid="0x0:|1024x0:dt_desktop_medrec"
data-refresh="viewable"
data-refresh-secs="45"
></div>
<img lazy-loadable="true" src="https://assets.rebelmouse.io/eyJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiIsInR5cCI6IkpXVCJ9.eyJpbWFnZSI6Imh0dHBzOi8vYXNzZXRzLnJibC5tcy8yNDUzMTU1OC9vcmlnaW4uanBnIiwiZXhwaXJlc19hdCI6MTYyNjU1MjUwM30.9BrW_zC7RnafWPLQbKPvVHcx4vu-arfuCtM4Vbv5wzs/img.jpg?width=980" id="d5f8b" class="rm-shortcode" data-rm-shortcode-id="658d51beefd0b536f2d9185ac622fc00" data-rm-shortcode-name="rebelmouse-image" alt="Heffington jumps into the air in his backyard in the desert, making an animated surprised face. He wears sandals, yellow shorts and a black and grey patterned shirt, and a black cap." />
<p>With a solid following from the clubs, in 2010 he opened The Sweat Spot, a relatively large, grungy space off a parking lot in Silver Lake. "I knew nothing about business," he says. "The learning curve was so steep, but I just had to do it. I never envisioned this alternative choreographer/punk-rock teacher as a business owner!"</p><p>"Dance class for everyone": This was The Sweat Spot's tagline. The mission was different from those of other studios in L.A., which were competitive and focused mostly on commercial dance. "I wanted to create a space that was accessible, inviting and safe," Heffington says. "Anyone starting to dance past their 20s doesn't want to be a professional dancer! They just want to feel good and empowered! Sweat Spot teachers needed to be cautious of those fragile beings."</p><p>Over the next 10 years, thousands of people walked through the doors of the studio. The person next to you was as likely to be your dentist or Madonna's backup dancer or a queer boy who'd just arrived from Arkansas—that's how eclectic and open the community was. Heffington's classes alone would sell out at 75 people because he couldn't bear turning people away. (I have danced in the space; 75 is <em>extremely</em> crowded.) But the studio offered a little of everything—beginning, intermediate and advanced contemporary, ballet, hip hop, as well as Pilates and Dance Church classes.</p>
<img lazy-loadable="true" src="https://assets.rebelmouse.io/eyJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiIsInR5cCI6IkpXVCJ9.eyJpbWFnZSI6Imh0dHBzOi8vYXNzZXRzLnJibC5tcy8yNDUzMTU2OC9vcmlnaW4uanBnIiwiZXhwaXJlc19hdCI6MTYyMTY3MjA1N30.srxQ65JjMd5xJddqIGptO5qYF4QORGmorgSk8tApHT4/img.jpg?width=980" id="216b3" class="rm-shortcode" data-rm-shortcode-id="edd4ca4688b37dd8b0406ed6598257a2" data-rm-shortcode-name="rebelmouse-image" alt="Heffingon, standing with his hands in his jean pockets, looks intently into the camera, standing in front of the wall of notes." />
<div class="htl-ad"
data-unit="dance_teacher/dt_desktop_medrec"
data-sizes="0x0:|1024x0:300x250"
data-prebid="0x0:|1024x0:dt_desktop_medrec"
data-refresh="viewable"
data-refresh-secs="45"
></div>
<p>"What came out of Sweat Spot was that people who never had a love for dance found it," says Melissa Schade, who taught at the studio. And thanks to Heffington, The Sweat Spot also became a place where Los Angeles' budding teachers and choreographers could experiment and play before venturing into more cutthroat settings. "We were taught to be more patient, to create an inclusive environment, and to make it fun for everyone," she says.</p><p>Heffington's teaching philosophy has always been one of self-empowerment. "I like to say 'Do you,'" he explains. "I hardly ever give corrections. Unless someone is being unsafe or going the wrong way, it's about them. I dance the way I dance, and you dance the way you dance. Both are beautiful."</p><p>This philosophy extends well beyond the dance floor, which is perhaps one of the reasons his teaching has now, in a moment of such uncertainty and fear, touched tens of thousands of people, even through the tiny frames of our phones. "He always said, 'When you fall or make a mistake, go into it further,'" says dancer and teacher Jasmine Albuquerque, who has known Heffington for over 15 years. "I now teach that to my students. When they mess up, it looks better. It's different to become a human again when you've been a trained dancer. Ryan keeps that humanness and dancer-ness in such a nice balance. His classes are magic. They're therapy."</p>
<img lazy-loadable="true" src="https://assets.rebelmouse.io/eyJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiIsInR5cCI6IkpXVCJ9.eyJpbWFnZSI6Imh0dHBzOi8vYXNzZXRzLnJibC5tcy8yNDUzMTU3Ni9vcmlnaW4uanBnIiwiZXhwaXJlc19hdCI6MTY2MTgyMTQxMH0.3hgaJP34v4WBqw0cvlmh8hPOZQf8DJuUT2x0GWv_2oQ/img.jpg?width=980" id="ddf18" class="rm-shortcode" data-rm-shortcode-id="5a791ba7e93782d859f6cb52638e7db8" data-rm-shortcode-name="rebelmouse-image" alt="A close up shot of Heffinton in a dark blue button-down, looking up at the sky and hands gesturing around his face" />
<p>When the coronavirus hit, Heffington fled Los Angeles and moved to the desert. He started SWEATFEST on a whim, as a one-off on Instagram, but soon he was teaching it five days a week, spending three hours a night picking songs and figuring out combinations, taping the routines up on his walls as cheat sheets. "I was experiencing isolation, and dance is therapeutic," he says. "I knew it would be for other people, so I said, 'I'm going to pied-piper it.'" The success was wonderful but overwhelming. (Eventually, he switched from daily classes to weekly ones because he could feel that he was close to burning out.)</p><p>Students dancing in their own living rooms responded to both the upbeat joy of it and the quiet, often emotional, meditation at the end, in which Heffington asks students to close their eyes, feel the lightness and love in their bodies, and then give that energy to the people who need it the most. "Reverence is for people to be accountable for what they just created," he says. "This is why people get so emotional. They're not used to taking responsibility for a great time. They say, 'It's because of you!' No! We're making the magic together! A lot of emotions come up. It's beautiful."</p><p>Soon, SWEATFEST turned into much more than a dance class or even a venue for personal freedom. It became a forum for talking about the country's current political upheaval, and a way to raise money for organizations like Black Lives Matter, Black Trans Advocacy Coalition, the ACLU, the NAACP and a dancers' relief fund. (He raised over $100,000 for BLM and ACLU alone in a matter of weeks.) At the end of each class he'd say, "We are in this revolution. Let's keep the fight because we can only get through this if we get through it together."</p>
<div class="htl-ad"
data-unit="dance_teacher/dt_desktop_medrec"
data-sizes="0x0:|1024x0:300x250"
data-prebid="0x0:|1024x0:dt_desktop_medrec"
data-refresh="viewable"
data-refresh-secs="45"
></div>
<img lazy-loadable="true" src="https://assets.rebelmouse.io/eyJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiIsInR5cCI6IkpXVCJ9.eyJpbWFnZSI6Imh0dHBzOi8vYXNzZXRzLnJibC5tcy8yNDUzMTU4MS9vcmlnaW4uanBnIiwiZXhwaXJlc19hdCI6MTY0ODYwODM0NH0.-L_kySWR6iylheP25s1VokWmjII04CSxHOQFLachfYw/img.jpg?width=980" id="523f4" class="rm-shortcode" data-rm-shortcode-id="64505d9ddabc019fdfb395ce0b3b131a" data-rm-shortcode-name="rebelmouse-image" alt="Heffington squats on his bed, wearing colorful striped shorts and a blue and green button down. He has colorful blankets and pillows on his bed" />
<p>With The Sweat Spot's lease coming to an end in January, Heffington realized that keeping the space afloat just wasn't financially sustainable without in-person classes. So his teaching, for the foreseeable future, will all be online. This was, of course, not what he'd envisioned just a few months ago, when he was close to buying a building in Los Angeles. "It feels like an end of an era," Heffington says. "There were a lot of tears on the Zoom call with the other teachers."</p><p>"It was the birthplace of all of our careers," says Albuquerque. "It has so many footsteps. Ryan takes dust and turns it into glitter. He has no fear." Heffington's fearlessness seems oddly suited to this tumultuous moment: "We were once in his class and there was an earthquake," Albuquerque says. "And he said, 'Just keep stretching, girl.'"</p><p>Heffington recently returned to New York City to choreograph <em>Tick Tick...Boom!</em>, a film directed by Lin-Manuel Miranda, based on the play by Jonathan Larson. Though he has no plans to reopen The Sweat Spot, he'll keep teaching on Instagram, and using it as a platform to help people through these tough times.</p><p>"Once you cultivate self-esteem in class, it's not only about you in the dance space, it becomes a part of you in your everyday life," he says. "You can share that 'you' with other people. Whether or not you learn the steps, it's about feeling good."</p>
Keep reading...
Show less
