Disability Pride in Motion: Finding Community Through Dance

First and foremost, I would like to acknowledge something that is central to my identity: I am a proud disabled dancer.

I celebrate my resurrection as an artist—one whose journey has been shaped by resilience, perseverance, purpose, and conviction. My path has not always been easy, but a bit challenging at times. Like many disabled individuals, I have faced barriers, misconceptions, and moments when others questioned my abilities. Yet through every challenge, dance has remained my voice, my healing, my advocacy, and my freedom.

Being part of a community of dancers with disabilities has profoundly shaped my understanding of disability, identity, and pride. While I have always embraced my identity as a disabled artist, working alongside other dancers with disabilities transformed that pride from something personal into something collective. It became a movement. It became a celebration. It became a declaration that our bodies, our stories, and our artistry matter.

For many disabled artists, the journey toward pride begins with the search for acceptance and belonging. We seek spaces where we are not viewed through the lens of limitation but through the lens of possibility. We deserve to be seen and valued. We deserve to be loved. Most importantly, we deserve opportunities to express ourselves fully and authentically.

I often describe disability not as a limitation but as a unique way of moving through the world. Every body carries its own language, its own rhythm, and its own story. Dance provides a powerful platform to celebrate those differences. It reminds us that there is no single way to move, no single way to create, and no single definition of what a dancer should look like.

My journey as a disabled teaching artist truly blossomed when I began working with fellow dancers through The Healing Arts Initiative (formerly Hospital Audiences, Inc.). Through this work, I had the privilege of teaching and learning alongside individuals with a wide range of disabilities. Together, we explored dance through improvisation, adaptive movement, creativity, and self-expression.

What inspired me most was witnessing participants discover confidence within themselves. Many arrived uncertain about their abilities, yet through dance they found strength, courage, and joy. They learned that their bodies were capable of creating beauty. They learned that their voices mattered. They learned that they belonged.

Together, we challenged traditional perceptions of dance and demonstrated to audiences that artistry exists in every body.

One of the most rewarding aspects of my work was encouraging dancers to embrace their individuality and move with confidence, fierceness, and authenticity. At first, discussing concepts such as disability pride with dancers who had intellectual and developmental disabilities could be challenging. I would often ask participants how dancing made them feel.

The answers were simple yet powerful.

“It makes me happy.”

“It makes me feel strong.”

“I like performing.”

“I can learn choreography.”

“I can show people what I can do.”

Those responses reminded me that having pride is simple and powerful. Sometimes pride is simply the joy of being seen. Sometimes it is the confidence that comes from learning something new. Sometimes it is standing before an audience and saying, through movement, “This is who I am.”

One of the most significant moments of my teaching career occurred when a dance class I taught at YAI performed a piece that I choreographed in the New York City Dance Parade. As we moved through the streets of New York City, something extraordinary happened. The audience cheered and danced alongside us, celebrating our presence.

At that moment, disability was not hidden or minimized. It was not something to overcome.

It was visible and powerful.

The dancers were not being recognized for what they could not do. They were being celebrated for what they could do. Their artistry, determination, and joy radiated throughout the streets, proving that dance belongs to everyone.

Another meaningful practice in my classes involves beginning each session with choreography inspired by a simple affirmation: “I am somebody.”

Participants would complete the phrase in their own words.

“I am somebody who is grateful.”

“I am somebody who perseveres.”

“I am somebody who helps others.”

“I am somebody who has overcome challenges.”

These affirmations became movement and choreography. These declarations became acts of self-love and self-acceptance.

Through this practice, participants were not simply learning dance steps. They were learning to recognize their worth. They were claiming space and developing confidence in their identities.

Another defining experience was performing alongside disabled artists at the New York and New Jersey Disability Pride Parade. Surrounded by pioneering performers, activists, dancers, and artists, I witnessed the incredible power of community.

These artists proudly used their voices and talents to advocate for visibility, accessibility, and inclusion. They demanded to be seen and heard not because of their disabilities, but because of their talent and humanity.

Their performances challenged stereotypes and expanded people’s understanding of what disabled artists can achieve. They demonstrated that disability and excellence are not mutually exclusive. In fact, disability often contributes to unique forms of creativity, innovation, and artistic expression.

One particularly influential figure in my journey has been choreographer and disabled dance pioneer Marc Brew. I had the honor of working with him and Arts4All Florida at the University of South Florida.

Marc’s work challenged me to think beyond limitations and imagine new possibilities. His commitment to artistic excellence, creative risk-taking, and professional recognition reinforced something I deeply believe: disabled artists deserve more than access. We deserve opportunity and investment. We deserve leadership roles. We deserve recognition as innovators and visionaries within the arts.

His example reminded me that disability does not diminish artistic potential—it expands it.

Today, I believe more strongly than ever that disability and pride are inseparable.

When disabled artists come together, isolation transforms into community. Fear transforms into confidence and doubt transforms into possibility. We create spaces where individuals feel understood and celebrated.

Together, we affirm that disability is not something to hide or apologize for, or something that needs fixing before we can contribute to society.

Disability is an integral part of our identities. It is a source of resilience, creativity, innovation, and strength.

This philosophy is at the heart of ZCO/DANCEPROJECT. Through dance, we tell our stories. 

Through movement, we challenge perceptions. Through performance, we reclaim space. 

Through community, we discover pride.

Every time we step onto a stage, enter a classroom, or perform in public spaces, we send a powerful message: We are here. We are artists. We are leaders. We are creators.

And we are proud.

As disabled dancers, we continue to redefine what is possible—not only for ourselves, but for future generations who deserve to see themselves reflected in the arts. Our stories, bodies, and voices matter.

We move forward together, celebrating disability not as a limitation, but as a powerful expression of human diversity.