A Rhythm Travels From Black Sororities To A Paris Runway — And Now To Seventh Avenue

The Washington Post

The dance studio’s floor, carpeted in an industrial layer of black rubber, flexed and bounced as a dozen sneaker-clad feet stomped out an unsure rhythm.

“You’re going to take your hand and swing around in a circle,” choreographer LeeAnét Noble explains, as her foot — purposeful and grounded — traces an arc on the floor that her body follows.

“Did you make it?” she asks the five recently graduated sorority women. With a few wobbles, most of them had. “Now swing the other way.” The women wobbled in reverse.

So often dance is about lightness, about catching air and gliding along with exquisite grace. But in this studio in the District’s Brookland neighborhood, the floor reverberates with the power of stepping. The women stay low. They clap; swat their legs in crisscrossing gestures. Jump up and land loudly. Legs kick forward and back, then again and then again. Bodies spin. Feet stomp the floor. Hands slap the rubber. Stop.

Not quite right. Try again. Make it sharp. With practice, they will.

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By Robin Givhan