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V. From 2000 to 2004
- Wesleyan University Press
- Chapter
- Additional Information
v From 2000 to 2004 This section covers the period from when I started to work for Dance Magazine until I became editor in chief. In January 2000 I was asked to speak on a panel about how women are discriminated against in dance and how the men get all the breaks. I had been so angry about this in the seventies that I had co-written (with choreographer Stephanie Woodard) an exposé of male privilege in the dance world. It was published in the Village Voice; we used, as a headline, a quote from a high school dance teacher: “When a Woman Dances, Nobody Cares.” Twenty-five years later, even though the attitudes that devalued women persisted, I found myself less involved this time around. I didn’t even want to be on the panel. My own career as a choreographer was pretty much over by then. Also, I realized how fortunate we women in dance were: for the most part, we escaped the threat of aiDs that loomed over our male peers. In the eighties and early nineties, it seemed like every few weeks we’d hear of another casualty. During that period my anger just naturally dissolved. When the panel, which was part of an aPaP (Association of Performing Arts Presenters) conference, was over, the publisher of Dance Magazine approached me. She asked if I’d be interested in the newly created position of New York editor of the magazine, which had just moved its main office to Oakland, California. Since I had a fondness for editing, I thought I would take the offer until a good teaching job came along. As the part-time New York editor, my beat was dance in New York—what could be better? That had really always been my beat. My appetite to see dance was with me long before becoming an editor—or a critic or even a choreographer. During the four years in that position, I continued to contribute to the New York Times while also writing for Dance Magazine. I enjoyed longer pieces because I could delve into a subject in depth and incorporate other voices. Writing features was more about listening than forming a quick opinion, as in a review. On staff at the magazine, I chafed under my second editor in chief, perceiving an undercurrent of distrust, even though she was three thousand miles away. I resolved that if I were ever to have a leadership role, I would do things differently. I would be more direct in my communication, and I would foster an atmosphere where staff editors felt comfortable putting forward ideas and participating in decisions. I would try to bring out the best in my coworkers. The terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, struck just as my story on Eiko & Koma appeared in Dance Magazine. Because their work hints at surviving disasters, the timing seemed uncanny. (I describe my experience of that horrific day in the introduction to that piece, which is about their collaboration with Anna Halprin.) Two years later the magazine, now under new management, relocated back to New York and the position of editor in chief opened up. This was my chance to put my ideas of leadership into effect. Knowing how time-consuming the job would be, I asked my husband and son whether it was okay with them if I applied for it. Since Jim was still on disability and we needed to save money for Nick’s college—and since my teenage son wasn’t eager to have me around every minute of the day—the decision made itself. In February 2004, I was named editor in chief. As it happened, the appointment caught me in the middle of making a solo for the ballet dancer Martine van Hamel, and I could barely find the hours to finish it. My new position was so stimulating that I no longer missed [34.229.17.20] Project MUSE (2024-03-29 07:21 GMT) teaching. I found that editing had something akin to that other love of mine. Just as I had given my students an assignment and waited with anticipation to see how they fulfilled it, now I gave assignments to writers, some of them quite young. When a story came in that surprised me with its craft and depth, I felt I had received a great gift. ...