Brooklyn high schoolers dance to end violence against women
“Let’s end violence! Whooo!” cheered Nathaniel Jimenez, a Brooklyn International High School special education teacher, as he high-fived the first group of students filing into the soccer field last February 14. They were about to perform in a dance flashmob, in real time with other dancers around the globe.
Within a half hour’s time, nearly the entire school had gathered on the Flatbush Avenue field in their pre-choreographed positions, ready to perform or assist on the sidelines.
Despite the biting wind, some of the more than 300 students and teachers had discarded their puffy coats to show off DIY T-shirts emblazoned with anti-violence and empowerment slogans, like “DANCE! RISE! DISRUPT! CONNECT!” Some students had written phrases in their native languages onto the shirts in permanent markers.
Girls posed for selfies and group photos; others rehearsed their steps. Still others dashed around the field, or attempted to climb up the wire mesh fence. But when dance teacher Megan Minturn blew her whistle, all rushed into formation.
The week of February 14 has been special at Brooklyn International High School for the past seven years. That’s when Minturn arrived as a teacher and introduced the One Billion Rising campaign, a global day of social activism to end violence against women. Minturn had seen other high schoolers perform the dance, which inspired her to incorporate it into the Brooklyn school’s already heavily-infused social justice focused curriculum.
She taught the choreography in her 2011 dance class, which performed it in March on International Women’s Day. Since then, at least part of the student body, if not the entire school, has performed the dance on February 14, the same day dancers around the world participate in the One Billion Rising anti-violence movement.
For Minturn and her students, the dance has become a way of rallying an extremely diverse group of young students around a common cause.
One Billion Rising started in 2012 as a global movement in response to a World Health Organization report on the prevalence of violence against women. According to its estimates 1 in 3 women worldwide will experience physical or sexual violence in her lifetime, including rape, honor killings, forced marriages, and domestic abuse. With the global population now at 7 billion, that would add up to one billion women and girls, hence the campaign’s name.
Since then, activists, students, and other groups have come together on Valentine’s Day or International Women’s day to publicly perform the dance created by actress Debbie Allen to the song “Break the Chain” by Tena Clark. The campaign relies on dance as a form of activism in itself as it demands attention, is unifying, and inevitably takes up space. Often the choreography has been adapted to reflect local cultures or express particular ideas.
At Brooklyn International, where all students are recent immigrants from more than 30 countries, dance is an integral part of the regular academic curriculum. Every student at the school is required to enroll in a dance class at least once during their high school career. Dance from various cultures is seen as a useful way to build cultural and linguistic bridges between students.
As a universal language, dance can be an effective way of communicating about a sensitive issue like violence against women in a safe environment. Many students can be initially skeptical of the medium as an academic learning tool, considering it more frivolous than fundamental. But Minturn’s enthusiasm, and the music’s infectious rhythms, often convince them otherwise.
One Billion Rising also coincides with the Department of Education’s Respect For All week, an initiative aimed at combatting bullying and discrimination in New York’s public schools. Brooklyn International decided to combine activities surrounding the two events.
A “rise and respect” committee made up of peer keepers, student leaders, teachers, and parents organized the workshops for that week. This year the committee added a family night to the long list of activities meant for parents to participate in the campaign.
Students covered the school’s hallway walls with art projects and messages. Some corners were plastered in little note cards titled “I Rise For…” which the students filled out with their personal answers. Some read “. . .my country Yemen,” “. . . animal rights and women and men,” “. . . women Rights Sexual Harassment,” “. . . free expression,” “. . . .for the women and respect.”
On another wall were two drawings of Balkissa Chaibou, the Nigerien activist who stood up at 16-years-old against her own forced marriage. The students had learned about her through one of their art classes, which at the school are generally used to discuss larger social and cultural issues.
Teachers, students, and the school’s three social workers collaborated to create the classroom activities, according to what the teens thought was most relevant to their daily experiences. The 12th grade math teacher used statistics as an entry point to teach her class about domestic violence. Another exercise involved the students forming a circle and each writing a hurtful word onto a piece of paper. Then they passed around a bucket and drowned their words, while explaining how it made them feel. “Relaxed” and “relieved” were common answers.
Seham Hasson, an 11th grader from Yemen became involved in the rise and respect activities through her talent for dance and passion for social justice. At first, she considered the mandatory dance classes “weird.” But she was a good dancer and Minturn had always placed her in the front row. Eventually, Minturn chose Seham as one of the students who would teach others in the school the dance.
Seham’s goal is to dispel myths and misconceptions about her religion, in relation to women. “I am a female, immigrant Muslim,” said Seham, who wears a pink hijab with a floral pattern. “People see us as victims but that is not true.”
The day before the flashmob, some gathered in the school’s library for family night. An 11th grader from Bangladesh dressed in a colorful dress and headscarf walked around the tables to greet around 20 parents and guests. In her introduction, she told the gathering that 1 in 3 women around the world experience violence or gender-based discrimination.
“In my country women are going down, they only cook for their husband and men only go to work,” said Rasheeda, 16. “By doing this dance we want to stop violence and bring equality in gender.”
Seham, who was unable to attend family night, later noted that the debate is often stifled, as students seem to want to only tell their stories rather than understand the other side. She said she has noticed this in particular on social media networks, where echo chambers of similar thoughts and opinions often prevail. The peer keepers explained that LGBTQ issues can be especially sensitive, and students tend to have trouble overcoming cultural or social stereotypes.
In New York City’s public schools dance is largely overlooked both as a social justice tool and as fundamental part of the general school curriculum. In the 2017 to 2018 school year, there were only 253 full time dance teachers, among the city’s total of 2,837 arts instructors. Dance and theatre (202 teachers) are the least staffed of the four disciplines.
Minturn chose to teach at Brooklyn International specifically because the administration has always given its teachers considerable freedom in designing their own curricula. She felt the One Billion Rising and the dance flashmob was an opportunity to reach out to youth, particularly after learning that the majority of intimate partner violence occurs before the age of 25.
That Thursday, February 14, the school’s two floors were abuzz with excitement as students roamed the halls on their way to the next workshop, while teachers made last minute scheduling arrangements and classroom changes. A few kids rehearsed the dance movements in a hallway, in preparation for the school-wide performance during the last period. Minturn led the first group of students, her own class, out to the soccer field across the street from the school building.
While Minturn has not yet convinced the two other high schools in their building to participate, despite accidentally blasting the song over the entire loudspeaker system the previous year, this year, at least, the whole school was out dancing on the soccer field.
Ena Sezairi, an 11th grader from Albania, who enrolled in the school last year, said it felt different with everyone there. “We hadn’t all met before and this year we met all together and it was really cool,” she said, beaming.
For Minturn dance also presents a form of reclamation. “After looking at violent, horrific experiences,” she said. “It is empowering to do something joyful with that pain.”
