Due to social constructs, America has a weird relationship with ballet. At once it is both a right of passage for any suburban girl – frilly sequined crinolines are stuffed into hope chests across the country – and loathed by a vast swath of men who see it as frivolous and dumb. Perhaps they feel this way because they were forced into viewing one too many elementary school recitals of “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies” where precocious girls in glittery sock buns collided in a frenzy of adorably bad timing. Or perhaps their strong aversion is because masculinity in America is so fragile, even a passing interest in something feminine is enough to shatter it into a millions pieces of existential crisis.
Whatever the case may be, ballerina Misty Copeland is here to bourree over to critics and drop kick them in the face. The amount of control and muscle strength needed to be a prima ballerina requires just as much rigorous training as any other athlete competing on professional level. Just look at her form! And with all her weight on her big toes, no less!