“I mean, it’s easy for you to see your white students as graceful and delicate, perfect for the fairy and princess and innocent heroine roles. They’re the Giselles and Odettes and Sugar Plums. But when you see me, you see ‘sultry Arabian Coffee’ or ‘vengeful villain queen.’ You say it’s because I’m too athletic, not graceful enough for the lead roles, but the thing is, that’s not true. I know it’s not.”

“I, well…” Kira paused, shaking her head. “You—” She broke off, composing herself. “Myrtha is an incredibly important role, and it’s the one that fits you.”

“But why don’t I fit Giselle?”

Kira’s lips parted, but she didn’t make a sound. I wasn’t sure if it was because she truly didn’t know the answer, or she didn’t want to admit it—to us or maybe even to herself. It was so clear that even after years of being her teacher, Kira never really saw Colleen.

“I think you missed a lot about how I actually dance because you had this one image in your head of what a Black dancer looks like. If you want to make sure all your students have the opportunities they deserve, you need to be aware of your biases.”

Colleen’s words hung in the air as Kira remained silent, forehead wrinkled, looking over our shoulders. All we could hear was the hum of voices from beyond the backstage doors.

“We all love ballet,” Colleen finally said. “We all want to make it as beautiful as it can be. And to do that, it needs to change. It’ll take a lot of work, but we can all help change it.”

I nodded fiercely. “Ballet isn’t this dead thing we have to preserve. It’s alive, and it should evolve.” I remembered Kira telling us that we should be grateful to be part of ballet’s grand, unchanging tradition, in whatever roles she’d chosen for us. I was glad I didn’t believe that anymore. “You should be grateful you can help it evolve.”

Kira still didn’t say anything. The backstage doors opened again and larger groups of people entered, laughing and chatting loudly. Someone called Kira’s name. After a second, she took a breath and met our eyes. “Excuse me, ladies,” she said, and walked stiffly away to join the crowd.

I exhaled and heard Colleen do the same. We turned to each other, but it was like we didn’t have any words left. I had no idea what Kira would do with the conversation we just had, if she’d ignore it or do the work to help ballet change. But we’d said what we wanted to say. We were able to say it.

“Oh my God,” I whispered.

“Oh my God,” Colleen whispered back.