We’re gonna start off today’s review by (potentially? I don’t think I’ve talked about this here before) learning a new thing about NTE: I used to be a dancer. Before my body decided that anything that required even standing was completely out of the question (so from age 3-15, basically), being a dancer was a major part of my identity.
I danced five days a week – tap, ballet, jazz, lyrical, contemporary, & pointe. Pointe was – by far – my worst class (I had started pointe as a teenager, after one too many sprained/fractured ankles, and could never just get the ‘up and over your toes’ routine down); lyrical ballet was my best (turns out that having a genetic disease that makes you super flexible comes in handy for things like leg extensions and high kicks, bad for joint stability though it may be). I was a member of our studio’s dance company, which competed in (and won some) local & regional competitions, & I taught classes on my off days to cover some of the expenses of my own classes. I also taught just because I loved teaching, particularly the tiny little pre-ballerina three and four year olds, who would spend the first few weeks of class just learning not to stare at themselves in the giant walls of mirrors.
You all already know that one of the other joys of my life is reading, so you can imagine that just reading the title of Ready to Fly: How Sylvia Townsend Became the Bookmobile Ballerina by Lea Lyon & A. LaFage, I was all in. And I’m so glad our library had a copy, because this is a great, entertaining, & important story.
Sylvia Townsend’s real life story starts the way a lot of dancers stories start: She felt music in her body from as far back as she could remember, and it always made her want to move. Her dad’s jazz, her mama’s classical music: It didn’t much matter what, music meant movement to her. And after seeing some ballerinas perform Swan Lake on TV, she knew exactly what she wanted to do: Learn how to be “leap & twirl & do plies til she can dance in real ballets.” Unfortunately, her family couldn’t afford the lessons to make that dream come true, so Sylvia had to find another way to make it happen. And she did. She asked her local bookmobile librarian about books that could teach her the skills of being a dancer, and page by page, skill by skill, book by book, she learned all the positions & movements of ballerinas on her own, at home. Eventually, the other girls in her neighborhood saw her dancing, and asked her to teach them how to do it too, until she’d got them all releve-ing their way through whole routines. Her teacher saw her skill – at both dancing and teaching the other girls – and offered to pay for ‘real’ lessons for her, but Sylvia, who is African American was then in 1950s suburban California, was turned away from all the dance schools because of her color.
“School three whispers, “it just can’t be,” letting the real reason slip – ballet is for white girls. Is ballet not for girls like me? Those words pluck the feathers from my wings. My dancing feet don’t feel the beat. My tutu goes back to Mama’s scarves. I tuck away my slippers and tell the librarian I won’t need more books.”
Fortunately, the setback wasn’t enough to keep Sylvia’s toes from twirling: Her friends still came searching for lessons, and Sylvia was the only one who could teach them. Eventually, she teaches them a routine good enough for the school talent show, where they shined like the stars they are. And someone important noticed, too: A famous Russian ballet teacher who cares only about dancing, and not about skin color then invited Sylvia to take real ballet classes for free, and Sylvia excelled. And she never stopped giving the girls in her neighborhood lessons, either, eventually opening a school of her own, which is how the authors found out about her story, and were inspired to share it.
The book also includes both a foreword by Ms. Townsend herself – which touches on the topic of encouraging children in their dreams, and those that helped her along the way – and, after the end of the story, some reference information about bookmobiles, more biographical information about Ms. Townsend, her dance company & school, and some other modern African-American ballerinas of note, complete with photographs & bibliography to look up more information if you want it.
The illustrations are both charming and evocative: The one white lady from the ballet school’s face in the picture where they’re actively discriminating against Sylvia bc of her color is the perfect amount of *cringe*. The artwork where Sylvia is dancing, totally lost in the music? Powerfully beautiful. Jessica Gibson’s illustrations here walk the perfect balance of dreamily soft & perfectly realistic, right down to the tiny details: Exemplified best, I think, by the picture of Sylvia on the stoop with her class of friends, each with unique hair style & texture, their own attempt at properly positioned footwork, their faces each showing a different level of understanding their current lesson, and yet, all still gorgeous.
This book basically hits the Swan Lake Fouttes for me (the ballet equivalent of a grand slam): You got ballet, and teaching ballet; You got books, bookmobiles & librarians making a real difference in a child’s life; You got the historical social justice aspect of giving a finger to racial discrimination in the the heyday of Jim Crow laws; You got a childhood dream achieved in real, actual life; And you’ve got a story told with heart, evocative illustrations, and ballerina-like grace.
If there’s a tiny dancer in your life, I suggest you add this to their wishlist.
PS, I’m using this for my Sportsball square in CBR13 Bingo, because I will fight you if you try to tell me that dancing is not a sport.