You Should Watch the Documentary “Step” If You Haven’t. Seriously.
Here’s what’s happened in Baltimore since the media packed up and went home.
Have you thought about Baltimore–a city that just two years ago was stricken by a police killing and subsequent riots–recently? No? Well, you’re probably not alone. Ever since the CNN live-stream of the riots, Baltimore has faded from public consciousness while police killings have continued. Maybe it has something to do with the orange-haired buffoon-in-chief hogging all of our attention, but it’s still important to remember Baltimore, and I’m not talking the sensationalized cable news coverage of the city; I’m talking about the real people who are struggling and striving as we speak.
That’s exactly what Step (2017), a documentary directed by Amanda Lipitz, does. It’s not explicitly about the aftermath of the Freddie Gray’s killing or of the drug dealers or corrupt politicians that you might expect in Baltimore from the hit HBO series The Wire (2002–2008). Step focuses on the women of color, on the “Lethal Ladies” high school step dancing team.
From the get-go, Lipitz uses shots of the women’s shoes as they walk around school to remind us that our feet are what we tread on. They’re our literal connection point to the world. That’s what makes the step dancing of the young women–using these very same feet to create art–so very profound. The dances also incorporate full-body movements and synchronized shouting in a way that I felt viscerally. These girls are empowered.
As Blessin, one of the ladies that the documentary, puts it, “step is life.” Unfortunately for these young women, life involves living under the shadow of Freddie Gray’s death. Live involves living in a world where black people are profiled and unjustly killed by the authorities that are meant to protect them. Life involves living in a city stricken by poverty and violence.
In a particularly demonstrating moment of the film, the whole team goes to a memorial of Freddie Gray. Flowers and candles abound, the women huddle together. “This could’ve been any one of you,” says coach Gari McIntyre. This is point not worth forgetting.
Yet, the young women reclaim the trauma that surrounds them through dance. In one of their routines, they raise their hands and shout, “Hands up, don’t shoot” as they stomp to the beat. Using their bodies, their voices, and their feet, they create powerful art out of protest.
With this social context, it’s quite possible this is a film that could’ve been entirely enveloped by these heavy political issues; it isn’t. Lipitz shows the young women being high school seniors. They goof around too much, and Coach McIntyre gets mad at them. Blessin feuds with Tayla and her clique. Tayla’s mom, a corrections officer, is the over-involved but loving mom who cares for all of the girls on the team. It’s a joy to watch these young women being exactly that: Young women.
Running through it all, many of the girls on the team are going through the college application process. Although they must overcome much larger obstacles than I ever did and many of them will be the first in their families to attend college, their stories are fundamentally similar to those of any other high school seniors. These are girls becoming women. These are seniors hesitantly navigating their next steps. Hot off of my little brother’s high school graduation, I could relate.
My one qualm with the movie is that Lipitz doesn’t show The Lethal Ladies dancing quite as much as I would’ve liked. By focusing so much on what these girls have in common with everybody else, she misses the chance to fully highlight what makes them special – their art. But as they dance, the world comes alive. As they step together, we forget that we’re watching a recorded movie; we cheer them on.
