Dance, Identity & Belonging: What Jazz Dance Taught Me About Myself

I grew up in the UK—raised on fish and chips, bangers and mash, and beans on toast. In our predominantly white neighbourhood, ours was one of only two Black families. My parents held onto pride and purpose, but beyond our front door, there was little that reflected who we were.

In dance, it was no different.

I trained in ballet, contemporary, and jazz. Dance was structure. Clean lines. Perfect posture. But no one ever mentioned the names of the dances my ancestors might have danced. Nobody told me the hips could speak. That rhythm could be a form of remembrance.

And so I danced—but only with half of myself.

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🎷 Jazz Was My First Love

Something about jazz felt different. It had rhythm, soul, and a raw, joyful freedom.

But it wasn’t until I traced its roots that I realised: jazz dance is more than musical theatre routines. It’s a living archive. Its DNA runs through Lindy Hop, tap, and vernacular jazz—styles born in Black communities across the African diaspora. They were built in ballrooms, backstreets, and basement clubs. They carried history, resilience, and joy.

Here are some resources that opened that door for me:

🧠 Explore the Legacy of Jazz Dance:

• 📚 Jazz Dance: A History of the Roots and Branches – Edited by Lindsay Guarino & Wendy Oliver. A foundational text on jazz’s Black cultural origins and evolution

• 📖 Steppin’ on the Blues by Jacqui Malone – A powerful account of African American vernacular movement

• 📽️ Uprooted – The Journey of Jazz Dance – An essential documentary on jazz’s lineage and erasure

• 📰 Social Dance and Jazz – Smithsonian NMAAHC – A brief but meaningful overview

• 👣 Frankie Manning Foundation – Preserving Lindy Hop’s legacy and cultural roots

🔁 Reclaiming Rhythm

That exploration cracked something open in me.

I began to seek out movement that had never been part of my training—Afrobeat, traditional West African dance, Caribbean folk forms. These dances didn’t demand I be neutral to be “versatile”—they allowed me to be whole.

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💃🏾 Dancing Between Worlds

Dance isn’t just technique. It’s identity in motion. It’s truth-telling. It’s survival.

As an educator and EDI practitioner, I now hold space for others to find their rhythm. To learn not just how to move—but why they move. Representation in dance isn’t just about who’s on stage—it’s about who’s in the syllabus.

What would it mean if jazz were taught as a lineage, not just a style?

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✊🏾 Call to Action

If this resonates with you:

✅ Reflect on whose stories you were taught—and whose were missing

✅ Explore the roots of the movement styles you love

✅ Share this newsletter with someone on their own dance and identity journey

✅ Support Black artists, teachers, and institutions preserving dance legacies

💌 Let’s stay connected:

Tag me on social media to share how dance has shaped your story. I’d love to hear from you.

In rhythm,

Joyce Gyimah

Dance Educator | EDI Practitioner | Storyteller

Founder of 777 Global Foundation

Co-founder of Black Artists in Dance

📸 Instagram: @joycegyimah

🌐 Website: www.joycegyimah.com

🎧 Project: Biography in Motion (with Stewart Avon-Arnold)