The transformative power of dance

Misty Copeland’s Emory visit spotlights the passion and purpose of a life in the arts

Emory University | April 14, 2025

The transformative power of dance

Misty Copeland’s Emory visit spotlights the passion and purpose of a life in the arts

Emory University | April 9, 2025

Misty Copeland stands, arms crossed, looking confidently at the camera

Finding your purpose can change your life, but you can’t do it alone.

That theme ran through ballet superstar Misty Copeland’s March 25 visit to Emory. The principal dancer of American Ballet Theatre (ABT) attended a private student thesis dance performance, joined a group discussion with students, met with arts and humanities faculty, and shared her astonishing personal journey in an onstage public conversation.

In 2015, Copeland became the first Black woman in the company’s 75-year history to be promoted to principal dancer. Her roles have included the leads in “Swan Lake,” “Romeo and Juliet” and “Firebird.” She has also performed with cultural icons like Prince, Taylor Swift, Common and H.E.R. Copeland is the author of several New York Times bestselling books for children and adults — most recently, “The Wind at My Back.”

Emory Libraries sponsored her visit, in partnership with the Pathways Center of the Emory College of Arts and Sciences.

Students and dancers Kamora Porter and Jaeda Samuel-McKnight chat with Misty Copeland after a student honors thesis dance performance.

Students and dancers Kamora Porter and Jaeda Samuel-McKnight chat with Misty Copeland after a student honors thesis dance performance.

‘Dancing from the inside out’

Copeland joined a group of about 50 dance students and humanities faculty in the dance studio at the Schwartz Center for the Performing Arts to watch Ilo Elder’s performance of “Queer B/being,” their senior honors thesis.

Elder, who is double majoring in dance and movement studies and women’s, gender and sexuality studies, was joined by four other students in an electric 25-minute performance. The dancers moved in precise group formation and individually over shifting house beats, deconstructing movements one might see in a dance club as well as others that paid homage to Elder’s Afro-Caribbean heritage.

“In creating this work, it was very important to me to put club dance on a stage,” said Elder in a group discussion after the performance. “Because you don’t often see that on a concert stage. You don’t often see street dance or Black dance.”

“I was blown away,” Copeland told Elder.

“What came to mind immediately,” she continued, “was the importance of dance in the Black community … and this idea of call and response … I felt it; it was so clear and so powerful.”

The conversation that followed spanned ideas of identity, movement and following one’s intuition.

For Elder, artistic intuition often means tapping into their cultural identity — with influences from Brazilian capoeira to Jamaican dance hall. This means “using the hips, but also … digging really deep and dancing from the inside out,” they said. “As a choreographer, that’s something I talk about with my dancers.”

Bibby Agbabiaka, Selah Curran-Blakely, Ilo Elder, Jaeda Samuel-McKnight and Kamora Porter during a performance of “Queer B/being” on March 29. Photos by Shannel Resto (SJR Photography).

Five African-American dancers, wearing sparkly black costumes, stand facing left with their backs arched in unison.

Bibby Agbabiaka, Selah Curran-Blakely, Ilo Elder, Jaeda Samuel-McKnight and Kamora Porter during a performance of “Queer B/being” on March 29. Photos by Shannel Resto (SJR Photography).

‘Dancing from the inside-out’

“I was blown away,” Copeland told Elder.

“What came to mind immediately,” she continued, “was the importance of dance in the Black community … and this idea of call and response … I felt it; it was so clear and so powerful.”

The conversation that followed spanned ideas of identity, movement and following one’s intuition.

For Elder, artistic intuition often means tapping into their cultural identity — with influences from Brazilian capoeira to Jamaican dance hall. This means “using the hips, but also … digging really deep and dancing from the inside-out,” they said. “As a choreographer, that’s something I talk about with my dancers.”

Elder (third from left) leads students, faculty and Copeland in a discussion following a performance of their honors thesis.

Elder (third from left) leads students, faculty and Copeland in a discussion following a performance of their honors thesis.

About 50 faculty and students gather with ballet dancer Misty Copeland for a group photo.

Humanities faculty, dance students and Copeland gather for a group photo after the dance performance and conversation.

Imo Elder, an African-American college student and dancer wearing a blue button-down shirt and a red, paisley scarf poses with ballet dancer Misty Copeland.

Copeland with Elder following a performance of Elder’s senior honors thesis and conversation.

Branden Grimmett, associate dean with the Pathways Center and vice provost of career and professional development, with Copeland and Valeda Dent, vice provost of libraries and museum

Grimmett, Copeland and Dent

A fellow Black student remarked that she frequently felt hyper-sexualized as a dancer. Another commented that she grew up being told by teachers that her movements were “too much.”

Humanities faculty, dance students and Copeland gather for a group photo after the dance performance and conversation.

This prompted knowing nods around the room, including from Copeland, who was the only Black dancer at ABT during her first 10 years there.

A student asked Elder how they managed to exude such confidence onstage.

Copeland with Elder following a performance of Elder’s senior honors thesis and conversation.

“Honestly,” said Elder, “it’s a matter of mindset. I know what using my hips means to me. It means my community. It means that diaspora. Something I tell my cast all the time is: ‘Ignore the audience. This is not a performance. They’re coming here to witness, to take it in. But it’s not a matter of us performing.’”

The students in the ensemble for Elder’s thesis performance included Jaeda Samuel-McKnight, a senior majoring in dance and minoring in mathematics; Kamora Porter, a junior double-majoring in political science and African American studies; and Selah Curran-Blakely, a senior double-majoring in dance and political science. Bibby Adbabiaka, a 2024 graduate who majored in dance and marketing, rounded out the cast.

“When it was first announced, I think all of us were a little shocked,” Porter said of the chance to perform for Copeland. “But it was definitely a delight and pleasure. I mean, when I think about Misty Copeland, I think about someone I was taught about as a little girl, someone I have a very deep appreciation for, someone who broke barriers, and so I aim to do the same in my own work.”

The ability to create dance this singular, said Agbabiaka, comes from focusing on one’s identity rather than on a rigid, abstract idea of “perfection.” And that kind of focus, he said, is what makes Emory’s dance program unique.

Branden Grimmett, associate dean with the Pathways Center and vice provost of career and professional development, with Copeland and Valeda Dent, vice provost of libraries and museum

Grimmett, Copeland and Dent

“The community, the support, the availability of our professors — the way everybody comes together, it’s a beautiful embodiment of Emory’s values,” he said.

These values were part of what brought Copeland to campus, said Valeda Dent, Emory’s vice provost of libraries and museum. “At Emory, we support students finding their purpose and taking risks," she said. "Atlanta is also an important entertainment industry hub, and we’re continually connecting students to this wider community.”

Smiling, Dent added, “I think she was also intrigued because her husband, Olu Evans, is a two-time Emory alumnus.”

Evans graduated from Emory College of Arts and Sciences in 2000 and the School of Law in 2005.

“I've always wanted to see her in person because it's so cool that she's a dancer and I love dance.”
— Augusta Campbell, age 11

Atrina Hajibaik and Augusta Campbell

An inspired following

In the public talk that evening, dancers of all ages streamed into Emory Student Center to hear Copeland speak.

First in line with their parents were fifth-graders Atrina Hajibaik and Augusta Campbell, friends and dancers with the Atlanta Ballet.

“I studied Misty Copeland in second and third and fourth grade,” explained Hajibaik, grinning, “and so I was just like, ‘I need to get front row, I need to get front row!’”

Campbell called Copeland “an inspiration” for her own professional ballet career dreams.

Susan McGhee-Crawford waited in line with a group of excited young dancers from Academy of the Arts, her Lithonia dance studio.

“I have been wanting to hear Misty Copeland talk for the longest time and never had the opportunity,” she said. McGhee-Crawford described Copeland like a bright light. “She’s one of the first Black ballerinas who made her mark above all the rest. For her to be here in Atlanta, where there are so many talented dancers, it’s amazing.”

*Copeland waves to young dancers in the audience. Harris sits to the left.*

*Copeland waves to young dancers in the audience. Harris sits to the left.*

A warm welcome

“We’ve got a lot of energy in the room.”

This was how Dent welcomed the enthusiastic crowd, which cheered in response.

Selah Curran-Blakely, a senior double-majoring in dance and political science, introduced Copeland, eliciting spontaneous applause throughout. The crowd then erupted into a standing ovation as Copeland climbed the steps to the stage. She waved to the children in the front rows before beginning her conversation with dance and movement studies instructor Angela Harris.

From chaos to movement

It was always music.

Copeland recalled, as a young girl, “hearing Anita Baker, Aretha Franklin, Stevie Wonder, and I didn't want to sing when I heard music. I wanted to move.”

Music and movement were Copeland’s escapes. Growing up with her mother and five siblings, she said, meant “there was a lot of chaos.” The family moved around a lot and was frequently homeless. Choreographing dances for fun was a way to create her own world.

At age 13, with no experience, she tried out for her school’s drill team and was made captain. The team’s coach, seeing her potential, encouraged her to take a ballet class at the local Boys and Girls Club.

“I had no interest,” said Copeland, laughing. “I was like, ‘I want to dance to TLC!’ This was the goal!”

But she went to the class, where she met Cynthia Bradley, a visiting teacher who was looking for who was looking for promising students from underrepresented backgrounds to bring to her studio on scholarship.

From the moment Copeland stepped inside the studio, she fell in love.

Copeland noted that most people associate ballet training with rigor, rather than ease — imagining “the Russian ballet teacher with a stick in their hand. But I had a very loving environment at my ballet studio.”

Dance made her feel “grounded and free.”

She knew within days that she wanted to devote her life and career to ballet. The goal: to join ABT, one of the most prestigious dance companies in the world. She achieved that in an unheard-of four years.

As a young girl, Copeland says, " I didn't want to sing when I heard music. I wanted to move.”

Mentors are the ‘wind at her back’

Copeland credited her success to the people who helped her along the way — starting with the staff at the Boys and Girls Club, a group she avidly promotes today.

Then there was Bradley, her ballet teacher. Almost immediately, she invited Copeland to live with her family. That early mentorship kept her receptive to the prospect of learning from others for the rest of her life.

Since then, she added, she has learned from an “incredible” list of people, most notably, Black women.

One was Raven Wilkinson. As the first and only Black dancer in the Ballet Russe de Monte-Carlo from 1955-1961, Wilkinson endured extreme racism, especially during the company’s tours through the American South. Copeland learned about Wilkinson after watching a documentary.

“I was shocked that I didn’t know her story,” she said. “And so, I became obsessed with her.”

Copeland started telling everyone she knew about the elder dancer, yearning to meet her.

Then she learned something incredible. Wilkinson lived exactly one block from Copeland’s New York City apartment. Not only that: She had attended every one of Copeland’s New York performances.

The two became close friends.

“She gave me this true sense of purpose in my career,” said Copeland. “Before, I thought I understood what it meant to be Black in a white company. But it wasn't until she came into my life that I realized that my presence there was so much bigger than me.”

Her friendship with Wilkinson helped Copeland see that she could use her own voice to make the dance world more equitable.

Copeland is embraced by a young dancer at a reception in her honor.

Copeland is embraced by a young dancer at a reception in her honor.

What it means to be ‘the only one’

Copeland never once doubted her identity: “I was a ballerina … but being a Black woman is also my identity. It's a part of me that I cannot leave behind.”

She recalled being told, from a young age, that she shouldn’t be in “Swan Lake” because she’d “ruin the aesthetic.”

"Being yourself is one of the biggest powers you have," said Copeland.

In 2014, when she was tapped as the first Black woman ever to perform the lead role in that ballet with ABT, she had to convince herself she even wanted it.

“And that’s because Black women are told they can’t!” she said. “So, I felt this ancestral baggage, literally from the moment I stepped into the rehearsal studio. And I think it was just a lot of outside noise and people saying, ‘You should not be doing this. You don't belong in this space.’”

Opening night was the first time, ever, that she experienced “real nerves,” she said, “because I just felt so much pressure.” She recalled thinking, “If I don't do it justice, will another Black woman be given the opportunity again?”

Curran-Blakely introduces Copeland.

Refocusing on the role itself helped Copeland regain her composure.

But it was later, through the help of another mentor, that she was able to redefine what it means to be different.

That happened when the pop idol Prince turned to her and asked, “But do you know how special it is, and how cool it is, to be the only one onstage everyone’s looking at?”

Copeland's talk drew dancers of all ages from across metro Atlanta.

Copeland was surprised. “I’d never thought of it in a positive way,” she said. But Prince helped her see that “being yourself is one of the biggest powers you have. That changed a lot of things in the way I thought about my career.”

In 2022, she launched the Misty Copeland Foundation and its signature program BE BOLD, a holistic dance program for young children of color. In 2023, she produced “Flower,” a silent, arts-activism film about intergenerational equity.

“Everything that I do,” she said, “is about making dance more inclusive.”

Two seated women onstage. One woman listens to the other as she tells a story. A projected image of the conversation is on the wall behind them.

"Being yourself is one of the biggest powers you have," said Copeland.

A smiling college student wearing a black dress speaks into a microphone at a podium facing left

Curran-Blakely introduces Copeland.

In a packed audience, we see three teenage women watching the onstage conversation between Misty Copeland and Angela Harris.

Copeland's talk drew dancers of all ages from across metro Atlanta.

Three people, a man and two women, smile.

Grimmett, Copeland and Barbara Krauthamer, dean of Emory College

Two women and a child pose together for a photo. The child, wearing pink ballet shoes, strikes a balletic pose.

Copeland with Pearl Dowe, vice provost, Faculty Affairs and her daughter Karen

New audiences, new stories

You could say Copeland was already working toward this goal in other ways, long before “Flower.” In 2012, she debuted her first principal role at the Metropolitan Opera House — in “Firebird.”

The performance drew an unprecedented audience.

“To see the turnout of Black and brown people and young people,” Copeland told Harris, “it was the first time you’d ever seen a crowd like that at the Met for the ballet. I think that it proved to the ballet community and to ABT that a Black dancer could bring in a sold-out house, that young people and Black and brown people … do appreciate the art form. And I think one of the most memorable moments was just seeing all the little Black and brown girls in the audience that were just so thrilled to be there.”

Grimmett, Copeland and Barbara Krauthamer, dean of Emory College

Even with moments like this, she admitted, the staggering expectation of representing one’s race hasn’t been easy.

“I wouldn't have gotten this far,” she added, “without having that passion and having that fight, because I do deserve to be here, and we deserve to be here. There's so much value in diversity, especially in the arts. That’s been my experience and why I keep pushing for it.”

Copeland advised appreciators of dance to stay “curious.”

“My hope,” she said, “is that our audiences continue to challenge themselves in what they think that they want to see, and the stories they think should be told.”

The goal? A world where everyone can take to the stage with confidence.

Copeland with Pearl Dowe, vice provost, Faculty Affairs and her daughter Karen

Story and design by Kate Sweeney. Lead photo by Drew Gurian/Masterclass. Reception and conversation photos by Bita Honarvar. Other photos by Sarah Woods of Emory Photo/Video, except as noted.

The transformative power of dance

Misty Copeland’s Emory visit spotlights the passion and purpose of a life in the arts

The transformative power of dance