Weaponizing the Performance of Feminine Bodies

The mass fetishization of modern dance and the performance of femininity

Written by Nina Johnson, Arts Staff Writer | Photographed by Bela Orzechowski, Staff Photographer Modeled by Molly Gallagher | Styled by Ava McNarney, Assistant Fashion Editor

The male gaze, capitalism, misogyny: words that feel larger than ourselves, often accompanied with a disconcerting pang of confusion. How can we tease apart these vast structures to see how they work their way into our daily lives? Surely, the patriarchy can’t be connected to my preferred form of exercise. To help pair it down, I’ve identified two ways to classify the interests of women in a late-stage capitalist, patriarchal society.

One: women are expected to gravitate towards and adhere to the interests of men. Maybe you told yourself to be a cool girl, you should also understand niche “Pulp Fiction” references and listen to Weezer, things you wouldn’t have otherwise cared for. You were young then, and it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t realize your desires were something almost predestined, a system created with you in mind. Queue Amy Dunne’s “Cool Girl Monologue.”

Two: the “feminine” activities that you did find yourself involved in exist only with you as the puppeteer. These are another kind of performance, one centered around the male gaze.

Perhaps you have a complicated relationship with dance.

Under the dominant culture, expressive forms of dance have propelled the mass control and scrutinization of women.1 The need for women to constantly be optimizing themselves. The often-cutthroat nature of dance culture, notably classical ballet and ballroom dance, relies on the external pressure put on women’s bodies to perform, yet remains under control and subdued. A balance must be struck: being able to control oneself well

1 Ashley Jordan, “Our Bodies, Our Hell: How Modern American Sexism Weaponizes Women’s Bodies,” Ms. Magazine, July 7, 2020. enough under the control of someone else. Right now, we’re at a crossroads, holding tightly to the ability to reclaim true femininity in dance. Dance is sexy, empowering and transformative—and working to place ownership into the hands of those dancing is an exhilarating venture.

While dance is not for everyone, its impressions have permeated daily routines of the lives of the wealthy and healthy, functioning as a token meant to enhance your life. Barre workout classes, the commodified combination of a workout class and modern ballet, cater to women under the guise of them gaining control over their own life.2 Instead, they become a moving part of a system in direct opposition to their interests, in the name of self-improvement and the paragon woman.

“The endurance that barre builds is possibly more psychological than physical. What it’s good at is getting you in shape for a hyper-accelerated capitalist life,” states Jia Tolentino, staff writer for the New Yorker and author of the 2019 novel, “Trick Mirror.”3 The degree of pressure we put ourselves under offers a shockingly powerful message for living in America. Are we slowly becoming the ideal women, the ideal version of ourselves, or are we simply training for a life of unpaid maternity leave, minimum wage and skyrocketing rent? While not everyone has the luxury of frequenting a barre class, its implications are worth assessing.

How does this inextinguishable relationship between misogyny and capitalism align in classical dance forms? Anna Karenina, a beloved character of Leo Tolstoy, finds freedom in her ability to ballroom dance. She revels in

2 “Athleisure, Barre and Kale: The Tyranny of the Ideal Woman,” The Guardian, Guardian News and Media, Aug. 2, 2019. 3 Jia Tolentino, “Trick Mirror,” 2019. this expression, using it as a means to express complex feelings of love and mortality. To her, dance offers a space for strength to be found even under the patriarchy. She temporarily adapted to the system with the hopes of being able to conquer it. Anna establishes a meaningful understanding of dance due to her recognition of the confines of her situation, and the desire to float above such confines. Dance often functions as a fluid place for her. But where there is beauty, there can also be immense pain. “Black Swan,” the 2010 film, catalyzes the intensity of the ballet industry, an opposing portrayal to “Anna Karenina.”

Right now, we’re at a crossroads, holding tightly to the ability to reclaim true femininity in dance.

Dance is an incredible way to express the experience of being alive, perhaps when words fail us. The complex roots and recent commodification of dance are not only a fascinating reflection on the way perceptions of women are shifting, but also highlight the unique position we’re in currently: how to move forward in what we consume and partake in. More than the Miu Miu ballet flat, reassessing how we love and accept dance in our lives provides an opportunity to reject the pseudo-femininity that’s been constructed for us. As Tolentino tells us, “We have to be willing to be disloyal, to undermine.”4 ■