In this episode of As Grandmother Says, Brinda Guha hosts a conversation with Maria Torres O'Connor and Milteri Tucker Concepción.
In this episode of As Grandmother Says, Brinda Guha hosts a conversation with Maria Torres O'Connor and Milteri Tucker Concepción.
Brinda Guha: Welcome to How People Move People, a podcast about the impact that our words, art, stories, and lives have on each other. Each series' journey unfolds in a sequence of six episodes, and Series 4 is titled “Dida Bole Je,” or “As Grandmother Says.” Thanks for being here.
[Music begins]
Welcome to “Dida Bole Je” (As Grandmother Says) on the How People Move People podcast a production of the National Center for Choreography - Akron. I'm Brinda Guha. My pronouns are she and her and I'm a non non-disabled cisgendered caste-privileged queer South Asian woman with roots in Bengal and the Jersey Shore. Lenapehoking is the land I occupy today. I make things for a living and I bring together like-minded folks to make things with me.
In this series, choreographers, grief and health workers, musicians, activists, and writers will connect with an artist in the same field but of a different generation. They will have conversations with each other, reflecting on stories of their grandmother figures, mentors, and guides. Folks who may or may not have had the most profound impact on us, but who always seem to stand in the glory of their truth. Their hypothesis of what's coming, and their reflection on what was and what could have been. In this shared time, these impactful artists will speak on their processes, their understanding of the times that we're living in, and a moment in their lives when they fundamentally changed their mind.
Amar Dida Bole Je. Go wherever you want, but if you have the choice, be home for dinner. What are your grandmothers telling you now?
When George Floyd was murdered in 2020 and the dance field shut down due to the onslaught of COVID-19, there was a “decolonization of dance” conversation that was brewing among the general dance-loving masses. Zoom meetings after Zoom meetings by dance studios, foundations, institutions, and arts organizations pretending that they didn’t ignore organizers who have been doing this work for decades, and trying to figure out just how much white supremacist frameworks hacked their regulations and established all their ways. Either that or they pretended to have the conversation because everyone else was calling them out for not doing better. Anyway, to me, a lot of these efforts were earnest at best, performative at average, and insidious at worst.
We, the dance-maker collective, seemed to be faced with two notable realities: the inability to physically gather with one another, and the inefficiency of advancing our views and deconstructing our norms at the pace with which society was holding everyone’s feet to the fire while not being able to gather with one another. It felt like human consciousness erupted through the thought of embedding equitable practices into dance-making, and there was no filing system or infrastructure to hold these ideas and implement them. The tension in the conversations I was a part of was palpable. It forced me and many others to consider the root of where our work comes from, and to make sure we continue talking about it correctly on the other side of the mayhem we were enduring.
Stay with me here. It was during this time that I became engrossed with re-reading up on folk and social dance forms, and what the values were in those spaces. On one hand, I always wanted language around why I despised the word “classical” and “contemporary” when describing the work that I do, knowing full well that quote “classical” forms were all appropriated and nationalized from regional dances, and quote “contemporary” was co-opted by white people who were mad at ballet only to then codify the genre with that word and removing it from the list of English adjectives that any brown person could use to describe their expansive ideas. But anyway, I digress. In a weird way, I was protected in my little study corner, because I had the privilege of intellectualizing what I do since the nationalism embedded within the form allows us to isolate ourselves from community and turn everything into performance theory and academics. On the other hand, I re-read so many of these resources because I was trying to figure out how people who standardized communal and circular artistry, true social dance, were even coping right now.
What do you do when gathering and physical connection are the tenets of your artistry, and you're isolated from people? How do you build solidarity as a movement and discuss nuance in identity and legacy in art-making when the systems (that never understood what you did or who you were anyway) now can’t be around you while you reflect and refine, and build an archive for it? I arrived at three pivotal, perhaps obvious, but necessary conclusions around the decolonizing of our dance practices:
Number 1. Identifying the “one.” Social dance is at the root of all dance.
Number 2. Catching the “one.” Meaningful gatherings require meeting in a circle. These circles shall be intergenerational and intersectional.
Number 3. Passing the “one.” Community, for better or worse, includes everyone who is gathered in said circle.
Today, we’ll listen in on a conversation between two extraordinary social dance artists, educators, choreographers, producers, and organizers, who both stay firmly planted, ten toes down, in the divine feminine earth and their Afro-Latina heritage. They do so much to uplift their culture, and to generously share their gifts with the world while navigating their intersectional identities. Maria Torres is an acclaimed director and choreographer in theater, television, and film who specializes in Hustle, Ballroom, and all Latin styles, coining and developing the genre of “Latin Jazz” which is now taught worldwide. Milteri Tucker is a master educator and profoundly influential Bomba dancer, Bomba being Puerto Rico’s oldest music and dance genre dating back to the 17th century by enslaved and free people of color. Both of these women use the structures of truly social dance forms to build consequential connections at schools, clubs, outdoor events, and on set and stages with people from all over the world. Their unique confluence of musicianship, education and dance allow for an undeniably enriching experience for anyone who gets to share space with them.
Milteri says, “For as long as I can remember I’ve been dancing in la sala, the living room, with my family - specifically my mother, aunt, and grandmother. I love to move. I moved to NYC to quench my thirst in dance. I studied, performed, auditioned, and auditioned and auditioned…I was either not Latina enough or Black enough for certain roles. I ultimately decided to be me, and embrace my culture for me first, and then for the rest of the world.”
Maria says, “Most people don’t know that the Hustle was created by Latinos, Puerto Ricans, Black and Brown kids from the boroughs of the Bronx, Brooklyn, and Manhattan. I call on my icons, my elders, my pioneers - you gotta see the ones that were living it and part of the creating of it, the ones that evolved it, so we can actually document their personal stories and what they’re sharing with us through the movement. This dance is joyful and spiritual at the same time.” And with that, welcome to the episode, with Milteri Tucker and Maria Torres.
Maria Torres: Hi, Milteri. How are you?
Milteri Tucker: I'm sore [laughs]. I'm sore because I'm older now and you know, after a pause with the pandemic and everything is, you know, trying to get that momentum back and just doing so much, performing a lot. So I just have to now and as I'm getting older tambien, I gotta like just be a little bit more conscious, todo me duele, everything hurts, but in a good way.
Maria Torres: As long as you warm down, do you know what I mean? The warm down is something that's so important as we get more mature and our body starts to shift and change. It's asking you to have some self-care and take care of me so that I can be ready to go the next day. I just finished a whole week of auditioning for a brand new show that we're working on for Broadway. You know, I can't talk too much about it because it's still in the making, but, but what I can say is it's giving me an opportunity to come full circle with a lot of things.
So I'm really excited about that. Body wise, I've been sore because yes, I, you know, that, you know, you, a dancer, always a dancer. You're in rehearsal and there are things that you need to get up and do, you do, and then the next day you wake up, Ay! I forgot [laughs]. Se me olvido, se me olvido que no puedo hacer eso. Hold on a second [laughs].
Milteri Tucker: That's great. I'm, yeah, I'm just thrilled about this and, you know, different ways that we can talk about and what, how we continue to feel today and the times that we're living in now, which are so crazy. ¿Verdad?
Maria Torres: Yeah, it is. I mean, you know, we, we reconnected after a while, I remember during the pandemic, when the whole world stopped,
Milteri Tucker: Yes.
Maria Torres: You know, we, I wanted to make sure that, you know. You know, we always check in with each other anyway. You know that [Tucker: Mm-hmm], you know how I feel about you. Absolutely adore you. I think that from when we first met, it was always like, it was like an instant, you know, connection. And I…
Milteri Tucker: I remember that audition. It was like the coldest day in December. Do you remember? I was like the first one that got there because I live in the Bronx, so it takes me literally an hour and change to get anywhere from the Bronx anywhere in New York City.
And I remember, I mean, that was a very important and pivotal audition for me for where I was in the point of my life, you know and, and I will never forget that, that call that you gave me, the call back and todo eso the coldest day. Despues de allí. I went, I had another gig, right with the company I used to work with. But that, that for me was very important and, and kind of just solidified the reason why I came here because, yo dije, if this doesn't work, I'm going to have to pack my bags and go back home to Puerto Rico [laughs] [Torres: Hmm. Hmm]. So thank you for the [clears throat] opportunity. You know, that you're giving opportunity to other people like me, like the new generation, an opportunity to not only learn from you and, and do your vision, but also give us a voice. And I think that's where we actually you know, well, I think that's why we connected so much.
Maria Torres: Yeah. And tell everybody what the audition was and what do you have to do? [laughs] [Tucker: Well]. So that you can tell them how your body felt after.
Milteri Tucker: Oh, no, I know. I mean, I was much younger [Both laugh]. So…I know it was okay. Cause I was like, at that time I was rehearsing, taking class, performing. But I remember the audition was for, I think it was for APOP. It was for your company [Torres: Mm-hmm] and at Link, uh, City Center. And you found me through the Ola network and I went, it was the first time and we did everything. It was like jazz, Latin jazz, modern [Torres: Yeah]. You had me call back to sing, I sang, you called me back to read, I read and, you know, and all of that. And then a few days later, I received the email that you, you know, have select, I was among the selected to work with you. And I was so, so happy, like it really, it, you know, it gave me more to look forward to and said, okay, I think I'm in the right direction. And, and I didn't, I didn't know at the time how I think, you know, I was younger. I was trying to make it like everybody going to all these auditions and, and being rejected and, and doing all these things, but you gave me more and you really took me in and mentored me, right? After that one, after that, after we worked together for that. um, I'm very grateful. Thank you for that.
Maria Torres: Yeah. And I remember that the whole reason why I wanted to do that was because I had just prior to that, I had um, gone through a series of surgeries [Tucker: Mm-hmm] with injuries that I had, and I wanted to, when I got called to be sponsored to do something for, for APOP through my agency, I wanted to pay an homage to my culture. And, and, and bring a, a bunch of different people from all walks of life. And I partnered with, uh, Carmen Rivera. I wanted to adapt from her piece, Child of Water, which is a play that I wanted to adapt into a dance form. And I wanted to use it as a dual opportunity where it wasn't just about creating this piece, but it was giving me the opportunity to also see the next generation of talent. It's always been a part of my life. Education is a bit of a part of my life and seeing myself and others, you know, being a person that as a Latina, as a person of color, when you're dealing with the challenges that I've dealt with in my past, I always said that whenever I got there, that I always wanted to have an opportunity to continue to find a way where I can still be creative and share my culture where I can. Because most, most commercial work, does not allow you to do that, but APOP because of the nature of that, of what that is, it's allowing artists to present their work, whether they have a company or not, right? And so when you walked in, I was like, “Oh, this girl is amazing. She's so beautiful, just gorgeous.” And, and I remember, you know, you were very nervous and I said, “don't worry about it. Just, you know, just keep, come back”. Afterwards, I was like, the “Bronx is far, honey, but if you can hang in there, we're good.”
Milteri Tucker: I remember it was right after my grandmother passed. That was something very hard for me because my grandmother, you know, was like my mother. She practically raised me the first five or six years of my life as mom was in the, you know, working and in the hospital and stuff like that. And I came to New York because, you know, my, my, my parents didn't want me to move to New York City. You know, my mom is a Bronxite, Puerto Rican from the Bronx. And she, when she moved out, it was a very tough era in the Bronx. So what I decided that I wanted to come back, because my grandmother had moved back, right, to New York. You know, she was the first one that said, ay, vente pa’ca It's going to be like our old times. You know, when we were, we used to take those los que se llaman, those little vans. It was like, I think they had them here. Like the one-dollar vans.
Maria Torres: I call them the Latin buses, baby. That's what I call them [both laugh]. The Latin guaguas.
Milteri Tucker: Yeah, gua guas. Si la gua gua, we used to call, it carro publico, right? Like everybody, you know and we used to, you know, go to to town and walk and [Torres: Mm-Hmm] you know, do all these things together. Um [Torres: Mm-Hmm]. And so when I moved here, like my, my, if it wasn't for my grandmother saying, no te preocupes, vente pa' acá como los viejos tiempos. Then, you know, that gave my parents a little bit of, and then I moved to, of all places, to the Bronx [laughs].
Maria Torres: Wow. Wow.
Milteri Tucker: So…which is, you know, I, I, I, she always lived in the Bronx. So I was like, okay, that's like nothing. Pero you know, at that moment, it was a lot, a lot of things happening [Torres: Yeah]. And I thank you for opening that space because it allowed me to grow even more. And then ever since, esto ha sido, you know, growing with you, learning about the Hustle [laughs], which I didn't live it, pero I remember my, you know, my aunt would love to Hustle también That would be a, that was like the more her era. And, you know, all these wonderful things that you've been able to mentor me. So I, I, you know, thank you for that.
Maria Torres: Well, I always keep the Hustle in my life because it's the dance that when I was a kid and my cousins taught me kind of launched my, my career because that dance I fell in love with it and I became so good at it that actually people were hiring me to be part of their companies. And I would enter contests. And I mean, I won so much money dancing that dance that it was like, not only it wasn't even about the money, what I loved about that dance and still do love about that dance is that it had every technique possible. The jazz of partner dancing. Even though it's a street dance, the virtuosity that you have to have and the athleticism that you have to have, because we, we did it from in the clubs, but then we took it from, uh, to a whole another level [Tucker: Mm-hmm]. So we were throwing everything but the kitchen sink, and we were kids exploring of how to top each other, through this dance, right?
So that dance really, as nostalgic as it is, it is also something that it's so important for me to have it documented, which is now what we're doing at the Lincoln Center Library. I have a residency there to continue to really foster that work because it, it gave me a sense of relating to my roots because Latin also, also has is derivative from Latin and R’n’ B. It was like an extension of Salsa, but in its, in its modern day from my time as a kid, and my cousins were older than me. So I was real kid. Like I was used to fake, have a fake ID to go out because I wanted it so bad but it's also like when, by the time that we, I was introducing you guys to it. It was a thing where, no, you need to know what New York did. I, you know, the last partner dance in New York City was created. That's, that was one of the last partner dances and people who don't know that [Tucker: Right]. I was like, this is it.
This is something that is, is Black and Brown people, Latinos and Blacks. And, and, and, you know, uh, queer, gay, it was everything. But the kitchen sink [Tucker: Yeah]. You have people from all walks of life really becoming Kings and Queens, at night and during the day they were just, you know, trying to survive. When I was growing up, it had different names.Every day, there was a different name attached to the Hustle [Torres laughs]. But the actual dance, the one that I learned from my cousins who lived in the Bronx, they used to go to St. Mary's church.
Milteri Tucker: Oh. Oh Wow. That’s my church.
Maria Torres: Yeah, they, they taught me the real Hustle, the Latin Hustle. And that's what I took to heart. And I was like, “Oh my God, this reminds me of, of, you know,” I didn't say Salsa back then. It was, it was more like Mambo, you know, so [Tucker: Right], remember we, you know, so growing up, you didn't Salsa came later, you know [Tucker: Right], it was that thing that you kind of, it was like, “Oh, I understand this. I get it.” But the music was like underground music. When you started dancing, it is, it's, it was hard. It's not easy. It's not an easy dance to master.
Milteri Tucker: You had me when I was learning it. You, you had me do the man part [laughs].
Maria Torres: Yup.
Milteri Tucker: You said, you’re a choreographer, you gotta learn everything. And you, and I eventually used it and something that I did in homage to some artists, I can’t remember now. And, and, and I said, “Oh, I'm so thankful. Maria showed me how to do the…” Because I had to instruct my male dancers how to, how to, because there was like a little Hustle part. I said, this, esto queda, this fits the Hustle. Wait, let me, let me add this [Torres laughs] [Torres: That’s good]. But, uh, but yeah, but yeah, I, I, like, I remember, I don't know if it was Hustle or, you know, I was like three, like Nyla's age, my daughter's age. Three, two. So I just remember just moving my body, in Puerto Rico, you know, my grandmother, we used to watch this, uh, show called El show de medio dia [Torres: Mm-hmm].
And I remember just my mom and my grandma and I just grooving to it. Just, you know, ella bailando ha el y yo tambien bailando ha lado de ella. And my aunt was the one who like showed me some steps. Now, I can't remember exactly if it was Hustle or not because she used to, my mom, according to my mom, she was a great Hustle, Hustle dancer. But I knew I, I, that, that gene bug, it was between them three. 'cause they were all, we were always, and we had a moment. It, you know, you know how it is in our families…
Maria Torres: Hello…
Milteri Tucker: Allí la fiesta es en la sala. And it is…
Maria Torres: That's a Latin thing. That's a universal language [Tucker laughs]. La sala. the living room. That's how, that's how we did it through in Brooklyn, you know? On a Saturday everybody cooks. You come over, in el patio, or la merqueasina. We call it—la parquecida is car park [laughs].
Milteri Tucker: Right [laughs].
Maria Torres: But it became the party floor for us.
Milteri Tucker: Yes.
[“Quimbara” by Celia Cruz plays]
Brinda Guha: I’m thinking about all the gathering spaces that Maria and Milteri were reflecting on in terms of places they went to dance with other people, and how meeting people through dance first was the norm for so many generations. I remember when I first moved to New York for college, I would go to the parties at Sullivan Room or Cielo - both of which don’t exist anymore. And Voodoo Ray, Rest in Peace, had the best parties with people who I found out later were New York City legends. That was their studio, that was their riyaaz, their practice. In community.
As someone who didn’t know how to dance house, or Salsa, or hip hop, or anything really, I would go and awkwardly sit at the bar watching everyone, for hours. I would bring random college friends with me so that I wouldn’t be alone, but I was the only college friend in my group that danced, so inevitably I would work up the courage to dance with someone and try to match their steps while my friends continued chatting in the corner. So many nights they left me there, because they knew I found a world of discovery that was for me, as bad as I was at it! I met tons of people, and we never exchanged names. Just faces of folks I saw for years after in the field, and became friends later.
This idea of connecting through movement in a hot, sweaty, dark club where people would practice with each other for hours - there was something magical about that. And there were others like me, you know like awkward young people trying to fit in and not look fascinated the whole time. A tiny bit pretentious, a lot bit frustrated that we couldn’t do what everyone else does. I liked being anonymous, everyone was kind of anonymous, you know, in that space. But connected too. It was the music that kept everyone going. The camaraderie of elders dancing with young folks and not making it weird or invasive. Just an invitation to try something. Earthbound studio on Instagram just released a video about it recently.
[Spoken words in the archival video referenced above]
These experiences affirmed my decision to study in New York. I was not a street styles dancer, and I had no idea what I was doing half the time. It wasn’t about that But to find spaces that allowed for free expression, places where people gathered to listen to music together - I really do miss that. That’s not really in the culture anymore. It gave me the confidence to bust out whatever moves I had on any dance floor thereafter, whether it was in India partying with my cousins with live music, or Spain dancing with my workshop-mates, or wedding season dancing with my family friends - there was a freedom that was born that ushered me back towards dancing for joy and connection instead of dancing for perfection in a studio.
It was these experiences that reminded me that my people danced in living rooms and under trees before they danced on stage, too. In 2017, after I was fired from a beloved job at a renowned dance studio (which is ironic, to say the least), I started a live arts showcase entitled “Wise Fruit,” dedicated to the feminine divine and raising money for women’s health. We’ve had 11 iterations of that show, and I can’t wait for number 12. Maria Torres was actually one of my greatest hosts, and brought so much love to the space.
The first time we hosted “Wise Fruit” at Cielo, and boy do I miss that place, I was flooded with memories of my first years in New York, remembering the legacy of Voodoo Ray’s parties and all the dancers who found community on the floor on Fridays and Saturdays while pursuing the hustle of selling and sharing their art the rest of the week through all the systems that….well….you know, weren’t the club. Woof - we all shared something. And somehow, that theme of meeting other kindred spirits on the floor never really left me. I hope through gatherings like “Wise Fruit” or something, I can do my small part in making those spaces in New York City for people to find each other again.
Milteri Tucker: You know, that's how also reyotón started en los parties de marquesina. It was in somebody's birthday or something, you know, y uno llevaba un — pa’ un party de marquesina [laughs].
Maria Torres: That's the way the Hustle started too. The, the. St. Mary's church was like where the underground they had every weekend, they have parties and everything. And I would always hear my cousins going, “Oh my God, this dance is so amazing.” I'm like, “What the hell are they talking about?” “Well, this is so cool. Oh, wait, you got to listen to this song.” And they were like, they were acting as though it was like a big secret, but then they put the music on [Tucker: Mm-hmm] and I watched it, and my jaw dropped [Tucker: Wow]. I was like, “What is that dance?” They're like, “Oh, hello. We were talking about it. This is the Hustle.” And I was like, “teach it to me.” You know, it's like, talk about a bug and talk about something that was life changing and life altering. That was it. Everything just went away and it was almost like I, time stood still and I went, I'm going to be the best dancer at that dance. That's my dance. They're like looking at me. I'm like 12, 13 [Tucker laughs]. Like, yeah, you watch, you watch [Tucker laughs again].
And that was it. I would dance with the doorknob [Tucker continues to laugh], dance with my sisters, you know, grab a chair, you know, dance with the refrigerator. Just to be able to talk about that's why I teach leading because I had to lead at home because there was nobody that could, that could lead me. So I taught my sisters by doing the man's part. And then when I got really good, when I go to the clubs, if nobody wanted to dance with me, I would grab my cousin. And so for me, I always think it's so important that we as women know all of it. Why not learn both parts?
Milteri Tucker: Right. No, we, and as choreographers, when we are choreographers, so we have to learn, you know, everybody's part specifically in folkloric and social dance.
Maria Torres: Mm-hmm.
Milteri Tucker: Because it's so like you gendered, like the men do this, the women do that [Torres: Right]. And now like, even in the work that I do now, I'm challenging those roles as well. I mean, we've been doing that in, in Bomba. Like, you know, I, I not too long ago, about a year ago, I learned that because my grandfather had passed away before I was even born, maybe like two months before shy of two months before I was born, but I didn't know that he was a very important person in the Bomba community as well, along with the, what the, what we consider today the patriarch of Bomba, Don Rafael Cepeda [Torres: Yeah]. And so my abuelo, abuelo Fabian Concepción he was a musician and a really great dancer [Torres: Awesome].
So I think that all that come into play. You know, with my grandmother, they used to dance also Bomba and Blena, you know, the music of their time [Torres: Mm-hmm]. And so I think that just, just translated onto me, just gene-wise too, because, you know, mom, mom loves to dance. Mom likes the performing arts. She's everywhere with me because she loves it [Torres: Mm-hmm]. And so, I think that that also influenced me as well. You know, I remember going back with my parents to, you know the Fiestas Patrenales in Puerto Rico [Torres: Yeah] which you see a lot of the folkloric dancing, the, the parades that they do, los v gigantes, they used to chase me and my brother [laughs].
Maria Torres: I love those. I love that. One of the things that I love about our people is that, you know, at the heart of everything is always about family, food [Tucker: Yes], and fun. Three Fs: family, food, and fun. And then on top of that, music and dance is such it's, it's, it's intrinsic. Because as an Afro Latina, you know, that's one of the things that now is so important for me to really understand the, the, the importance of the, of the, of the culture bearer that you're being, right? [Tucker: Mm-hmm] I mean, I remember when you auditioned for me and you were going through all these changes and then there was a point where I remember you had gotten injured. Do you remember that? You looked at me and you said, “What am I going to do now?” And I said, “You're going to heal first…[Tucker: Mm-hmm]…and then figure out what it is that you need to be doing, and…”
Milteri Tucker: You told me you now you have to teach [Torres: Yep]. Now you go to teach. Well, and I remember, oh, I don't want to teach, you know, cause that’s. Sometimes within certain circles, it can be very cliquey and stuff like that. And I said, I don't, I don't think I'm ready to teach maybe because nobody, nobody knows me, or, you know, there's always some, a common misconception of what a Puerto Rican is and the identity, right. Of what do I look like, right?
Maria Torres: You know, you talk about the Blackness, right? My first language is Spanish. I learned how to write Spanish first. And when everybody else was changing their names and trying to, uh, uh, assimilate, my parents said, “No, no, no, you're going to learn and you're going to learn about our cultures.” I said, my mom said, “I'm Black, Dominican, Cuban.” My father's bien blanco. Really white, you know, from Puerto Rico, but his father, Taino [Tucker: Mm-hmm], and he grew up and was born in Rio Piedra and they want, they wanted me to go to school in Puerto Rico so that I would learn about my culture on this side. Right?
But then on my mother's side, I went to Dominican Republic and she said, “No, no, no, you're going to hang out with your grandmother and you're going to learn about our roots and you're going to understand because at some point, I need you to be strong” because she said, “look in the mirror, my darling.” And I'll never forget that and that's why I was like that with you when I met you [Tucker: Mm-hmm]. To look in the mirror and I said, I said, “You're always going to be looking like that. You're always going to be Black. And you're always going to be mis, misunderstood because people are not going to understand [Tucker: Hmm] where, what you come from. Look at your hair, look at your nose. You've got lips. Look at your body. It is who you are. You're going to have to be the best of the best of the best. And it doesn't matter whether our own people don't know if you’re Latina or not, what matters is that you know [Tucker: Hmm], and that you know where you come from and where your lineage is and what your background is.”
And I'm telling you when I was little, I hated that shit [Both laugh]. I was like, “What are you talking about?” The American dream of this…if we fought, I was like, “Wah, what American dream? I'm from Brooklyn. I am the American dream. I am the American dream [Tucker laughs]. I don’t care if they don’t want me.” She goes, “ Listen, listen, they're not going to want you because you don't fit the mold.” And so when /you and I were talking, it was like, I was looking at myself and I'm like, Oh, I'm going to have to have to talk with her” [Tucker laughs]. I said, “You're injured. You're going to have to find another way to me.” Teaching was always something that was innate [Tucker: Mm-hmm] because I told you we weren't allowed, we were not allowed to go out till [Tucker: Right] we were a little older.
By the time I hit 15, I was still under age, but I had a fake ID by that point [Tucker and Torres laugh]. I was like, I was out. I would roll up my clothes in a bag, go with my cousins to the Bronx, and then change up. And I become like a 20-year-old woman. You know what I mean? And hang out and come back like, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, you know, [Tucker continues to laugh]. Definitely one of those. Pero, uh, but the thing was, is that because I had to dance with my sisters, it taught me to be a teacher really young. And I really enjoyed that [Tucker: Mm-hmm]. And so that never left me that actually helped me as I became an educator. I wanted to learn how to do that with my cultura, with my culture. How can we preserve that? How can I bottle that and put it in a form where the, I can meet and see all the people who are like me, who maybe wanna do what I do? I want them to come to me.
So for me, I felt like you were one of those people. And I was like, “No, mama, you ain't, you're not gonna, okay, so you're taking a break so you can heal. Teach your art form, learn about it. Maybe that's something that, you know, that you can do that's different, you know?” So I remember that really well. And I remember going to Hunter College. Remember that?
Militeri Tucker: That was my first ever evening-length work. La Bomba Me Llama [Torres: Yeah]. You knew where I was coming from because you experienced it, you knew, you know, yes, the roots and how we’re feeding, feeding this into this new mold, and, and creating a space for myself also. So….
Maria Torres: Well, you know, 5,000 people went crazy. Do you remember that?
Milteri Tucker: They did. That was an amazing experience [laughs].
[Music begins]
Brinda Guha: Community. It's such a grounding force in this conversation. I hear Milteri talking about all the intersections with Maria as a mentor as she was building Bombazo and her career in the States, and I think about how important community is when you’re trying to make something out of yourself from scratch. Capitalism has me thinking I’m all alone most of the time. But the truth is, for me at least, community is important to weave into the foundation of our careers so that there is always accountability built into our practice and our work. In order for community to feel safe, we need to actually build relationships, consciously, generously, and confidently. That’s so hard to do.
But I’m grateful because in my mid-thirties, I’m finally stepping into a confidence that allows me to design chosen community, or at least pitch that as an idea to my peers who are in this hustle with me. Recently, I had a wild experience in which my grandmothers and their ingenuity were screaming at me. I went to support my friend and fellow Kathak dancer, Barkha Patel’s dance recital. Barkha is a force. Look her up. She is an incredible dancer and a wonderful person, and I started taking her classes this year to keep my training in check. In our field, it’s important to me that we normalize learning from our peers just as much as we sit at the feet of our gurus. Being in her class has been a gift, for my toolbox, my confidence, expression, and strength. I’m really grateful.
Anyway, I went as a proud audience member to support the students of Barkha’s dance school and to see my new friends on stage do their thing. Within 5 minutes of the show starting and at the top of the first number, the lights in the whole building went out. Everyone was in a frenzy, I stayed put to see how this needed to be handled, you know? I’ve had shows at that venue before, so I sort of know the infrastructure of the place: old, not quite updated, and probably only one staff member working. The work lights came on, and sure enough, Barkha announced “Brinda Guha, please report to the back of the stage.” I was like, here we go - the production hat instantly came on.
I knew my friend needed backup. We talked to tech and learned that the lighting console was overheating and shutting down the theater over and over again. As South Asians know, a fan could do wonders, and we discussed getting a fan to keep the console cool. But there was no fan on the premises. Barkha looked at me and said, “Well, what do you think?” Her 50 students were staring at us backstage while we were contemplating next steps. Like the lights would literally not stay on. We had to do something. I asked her if I had permission to start bossing people around, and she obliged. I don’t know what came over me, but I know an ancestor was guiding me in that moment. Because I asked her stage hand to source a bluetooth speaker, her front desk manager to give me her wallet, told Barkha to go teach a live 20-minute Kathak lecture demonstration with her students as she would, you know, in class to show them a bit of her process, I lifted up my dress, tied my hair in a ponytail, and ran out of the theater down the street towards the hardware store.
I didn’t even know if this would work, but that was our only solution in that moment, so I committed. The hardware stores were closed, and I ran in another direction. I saw an “Insomnia Cookie” next door to the theater and for some reason I went in there. I imagined all the kathi roll stands in Gariahat market and the little fans those men had while they were making me and my cousins egg rolls, and thought maybe the hot kitchen would have a fan. Bingo! Cedric, the lone baker in the basement, the hero of the day. He had a dusty ass fan and I begged him to let me borrow it for a few hours. He said, “say less” and threw me the fan. I ran back to the venue and we plugged in the fan and held it toward the console. The show started over and all was well. I heard that the fan was useful in the second show later that evening as well. And I hope the venue invested in a new lighting console.
I tell this story because it was not dance, or performances, or negotiation skills, or business, or language or paperwork or admin that helped me be in the right place at the right time. It was my sheer loyalty for my community and some foundational memory of a kathi roll stand and resourceful elders that led to this moment, and I guarantee that Barkha would have done the same thing for me if I asked her to. An important thing to name in this, also, is that there was mutual trust. She trusted me to try my best for a solution given my skill set, and I trusted her to keep doing her work in confidence given her skill set. Because this gathering was about her work and her students and her community. It was about her work and her students and her community. It was totally possible that this wouldn’t have worked out! But it did. And it was a great example of our investment in each other’s purpose to make sure that the dancers’ hard work didn’t go unnoticed that day. And it didn’t. The dancers killed it, and Barkha created something beautiful. That day required trust, and trust must be cultivated in spaces that want it to. That will go down in history as a day where the sheer power of community actually did the damn thing.
Maria Torres: I know that for me as an artist, I wanted to make sure that I could come back better, continue to be the activist as I've always been, but be clearer about the way that I wanted to do that, be transformative, knowing that for me now time is something that's much more valuable [Tucker: Mm-hmm]. As you get more mature, you start to see I can't do it all, but I'm going to try my best to do those things. You know, walking into a space where you can create. And be yourself is something that I wanted to do. And I loved it because I remember at home in 2021, 20- yeah, 21 [Tucker: Mm-hmm], when I called you, that was right after In the Heights, the movie, remember that? [Tucker: Oh yeah. Oh yes] [Both laugh]. It was so crazy.
And I'm getting like all these like requests for interviews. And I'm like, “Oh my gosh, why are we even like going to get into this negative conversation [Tucker: Right] that is, it's, it's complex for Latinos, Black Latinos, but Latinos in general.” It's a, we're, it's a very complex situation [Tucker: Mm-hmm] that we still have to deal with, right? We have so much colorism, so much, work to do, and trauma and drama that needs to be taken care of. However, for me, as somebody being in this industry, I've always, always coached and, and, and uplifted everybody [Tucker: Mm-hmm]. Like Lin Manuel studied with me, you know, all of them. And I remember when In the Heights, that backlash happened and I went, “wow, what a missed opportunity rather than having an opportunity where we can, create forums, private forums amongst ourselves to talk about our own problems that we have to do, but then here we are bashing Lin Manuel because he didn't hire Afro Latinos in the lead.”
Meanwhile, the whole ensemble came under my tutelage and they were all in that movie. It was like the Maria Torres school of dance is in the movie [Both laugh]. I'm like, what are you guys talking about? So they didn't do one thing, but look at, look at all of those other people that [Tucker: Yes] normally would not get hired. If we're not able to make the box office, because there's a separation between what's happening now, what's happening in this uprising [Tucker: Mm-hmm] and also the business part of it, which is something that you and I always spoke about very early on [Tucker: Right]. I'm like, “You're going to be an entrepreneur. You're going to be really smart. You're going to know how to be able to navigate your own things. And you're going to have to figure that out too, and be your own CEO and president by yada, yada, yada.”
But what people didn't realize when that 2021 movie came out is that he needed for all of us to show up, whether we agree with them or not [Tucker: Right], because he would have been a success. Then he would have had free reign to put more of us [Tucker: Yes] and do it any which way. So people don't understand that part, right? So when I saw that, I said, "I don't want to be part of that negative conversation. What can I do?” I want to create something that's going to actually do that we can, that we can actually have something that can be conversational, but at the same time, a piece that I can create that gives you an opportunity to dive in as an artist [Tucker: Mm-hmm], to take all this anger that I'm feeling and all the things that I want to say, and how do I bring other artists to come together?
Hence, you know, Sol of El Barrio [Tucker: Yeah], when I created that. And I said, “Listen, I'm doing this past, present, and future homage to our people. And this is going to be like the protest piece that I, that I want to do." People say to me, “Well, what are you?" I said, “Well, I'm an American [Tucker: Right], ethnicity is Puerto Rican, Dominican, Cuban, and my race is Black. And I've always known that.” I used to call myself a Blatina back in the day when people didn't even know what that was. People say, “blah a what, blah a who?” (Tucker laughs) I said a Black Latina. I want to dive into the complexities of what it's like for us to be our Latinidad, right? Our community, how do we come together? And I remember you saying, I'm there.
Milteri Tucker: I was in a point of motherhood in my life when you called, it was just such a beautiful sea of, of the diversity of what Latino, Hispanic is, and Caribbean people, right? Cause it's about also, it's not so much about, I feel like In The Heights is more of also about the Caribbean feel in, in, in New York City [Torres: Yeah], because Dominican Republic, you have Puerto Rico. And so, you know, I think like you, it was, it always happens. And it's, you know, I think sometimes within our communities, we're the first ones to tear us down [Torres: Yeah] instead of uplifting and looking at the beautiful work that it took all of us. And then for me, that was my first. you know, movie opportunity as a dancer.
But when it comes to, also, choreography, I teach the traditional. You can't, you have to master the traditional art form before you can start fusing it. And that's been also my point of view. Every time we work on it, it's a new layer, a new layer because of the complexities of what we have. Even with, when I choreographed Como Eres, it came out of also the beginning of 2020, right before the pandemic. I was, it was a, my form of activism and solidarity with the LGBTQ community [Torres: Mm-hmm]. And I remember seeing, being in a Bombazo, like a gathering, a Bomba gathering here in the Bronx. And a young, fabulous male dancer came out with one of the skirts I made for him. And he came out dancing. I remember seeing the faces of all the drummers and the singers, like, this like a face of disgust. And I was like, well, we're leaping into a new century. We're in New York City. What's going on here? And instead of going, I'm not a person like you to go on social media and fight with people and things like that. I do more action. Like how can we better serve the community to understand this? And so I called Cedric Leiva Jr. uh, who's always been there since the inception of the company. And he was like, I am [unclear word] first. I don't know me, Milteri. I don't know. I said, “Well, you let me know because this is also your experience in your voice.” But then it was so beautiful, the collaboration that we both did.
Maria Torres: Yeah.
Milteri Tucker: So much so that we've, when we first aired it uh, at BAAD!, Bronx Academy for Arts and Dance, through their festival, their artistic director, Arthur Avilés, was like, crying. He was like, Milteri, this so beautiful. And we continued and it continued to develop into a full evening-length work that I did last year, as well. And I, and it will continue to develop because, because it's not so many experiences, so many, you know, but it also helped a lot. Para callar ha la gente, verla cambiarle la mente, change their minds. And now I'm seeing the acceptance also in Puerto Rico and here of not seeing those faces that I saw four years ago, but more of like, “I love that. They’re dancing their truth” [Torres: Right]. And they're in their truth and, and feeling accepted as opposed to, “Oh, I have, now I have to do like a male or have to do the female.” I'm teaching, I have to teach it like my elders taught it, you have to learn both.
Maria Torres: Right.
Milteri Tucker: Then when you're in the bathe, you're going to do what's true to you.
Maria Torres: I mean, I'm working on a Broadway show, and the Broadway show that I chose to be a part of, it has so much richness [Tucker: Mm-hmm] and it's, it's aligned with my values and what I want people to see. And I think that's the difference now, that now the way that I work now is about being very cognizant and very conscious [Tucker: Mm-hmm] of things that I do, the things that I choose to the spaces that I walk into [Tucker: Mm-hmm]. And then the process is different with everything, meaning in Broadway, there's a specific, you know, there's a whole creative team, [Tucker: Mm-hmm], timeline, we have a script, we have all of this, right. But with, with our cultura and especially with Sol of El Barrio, I wanted to experience it from a clean slate, like a painter looks at the canvas blank and come up and has their colors and is trying to decide what it is that you want to do.
So I came completely open and ready to, to work with all of you in a way that I know wasn't comfortable because everybody wanted was asking me a lot of different questions and I was okay with that. I was okay with understanding that in order for us to get to the truth for that process in that time, we needed to get messy and I was okay with getting messy. But from that, you know, what was the beauty of that is that we did Sol of El Barrio. And then all of a sudden, now Jacob's Pillow comes up [Tucker: Oh right] and I create the first Afro Latino interdisciplinary program where I can bring some of you to go, go up there. That came from that Sol of El Barrio. And not only that, then I got offered to get a residency. Not only that, then I got offered to, you know, somebody to do a documentary because why? Because I was living in my truth.
And then everybody started asking me to be on these boards to talk about and represent Afro Latinos and, and the, the, our Latin diaspora. Everybody says, “Oh, do you, can we use Afro Latin, Latin, Latinx?” I said, “well, no Afro Latinx is different than Afro, Afro Latino” [Tucker: Mm-hmm]. And then Latino, it is for our ancestors. We don't know. We have to honor that they came from the colonial” [Tucker: Right]. So I'm not going to change my grandmother or my grandpa, you know, my cousins, my aunts that are older, they're going to be like, que es eso? We don't even know how to spell that, also because for me, it's so different because I grew up Hustle, I grew up in the Hustle and in that dance, it was, you know, Black and Brown, LGBTQ community. We were just, you know, people gathering. So I was always around gay people. People say, “Oh my God, where did you learn how to be so sassy?" And so I said, “Well, because of my friends.” You know, so we were always exchanging and appreciating and expressing. Yeah. In a way that's free, which I always loved that part of, you know, you know, being a part of like Willie Ninja and Archie Burnett and all these amazing artists that when we were growing up, we, it wasn't a, we weren't artists. We were just kids, dancing. You know what I mean?
We've kind of like laid a blueprint that everybody's now trying to do. I, I wanted to go back to that. But now do it in present day without do that. And then anything else [Tucker: Mm-hmm]. And then from that, I got to experience working with Hubbard Street and creating a whole, you know, piece for them. You know, that was celebrating what our cultura, echoes of our ancestors. I was like, no, I know exactly what I want to do because I want the concert world to also get to learn and get to know about our culture. I'm able to be in two different worlds. Meaning the worlds are colliding. Like our cultural world is combining now with my commercial world. And when I watched all those performers that came into Sol of El Barrio in so many different art forms expressing themselves. And I'm going, “Yeah. Hell yeah, we're going to continue that.” And we're going to, we're going to work that out, you know?
Milteri Tucker: But it's so interesting, Maria, that you say, and I've seen this now and like in the past, like, I don't know, maybe three years or so, the interest of now incorporating even in higher education, Afro Caribbean dance, diasporic dances, where there was not a space before. Like you always had to do it, you know, mixed with maybe when they were doing street dance, which is hip hop or anything like that. Now it's like, there's an increased interest even in conferences and, like it's, it's, it's growing into what you started, where the work that I'm doing is growing into a more visible, uh, context for educators, and…
Maria Torres: Well, that was always the, that was always the, the mission for me [Tucker: Mm-hmm]. I wanted to see it everywhere. I mean, the fact that I had to create a Latin Jazz so that it could be brought into performing arts schools, I mean. It was a thing back then. I mean, I taught at Ailey, I taught at, you know, at, uh, Dance Theatre of Harlem. I would have dancers from ABT come over and get, you know, wanting me to set pieces, teaching at Juilliard, going to Yale. I mean, I went to so many different, uh, schools, NYU, I mean, everywhere, so that it was unlocking, the creativity of what I wanted, my Latinos that were there [Tucker: Mm-hmm], that some kind of inkling to unlock that and say, you too can do it too. Don't let anybody tell you that you can't, uh, express yourself from where you come from.
I think it's, I think it's acknowledging. What was always there, which is the ballet, the jazz, and the modern [Tucker: Right]. All of that. Those are the, those are the groundworks that were laid down from for professional dancers, right? But I think as practitioners, because that's what you are as you're a practitioner, is different as a practitioner, you have now the opportunity to no longer be appropriated, but be the, the person that's sharing your knowledge [Tucker: That’s right]. That's what post-COVID and what COVID when [Tucker: Yes] surprising happened, what it did is that it allowed for the conversation to turn into real action because everybody was running scared and they said, “Well, let's get the Latina, the Black Latina in the room real fast.” I knew that it was my opportunity to shed light on what we've always been here. This has always been a part of our culture, and it's been appropriated for way too long. And what are we going to do now in order to turn that around?
So that now it's not about the appropriation, but it's actually bringing those that you don't know, but that you should know because they know what they're doing and you can learn from them [Tucker: Right] and that you give them a platform now so that they're able to share from their perspective what they've always had and what they've always been practicing. And to me, that's a different conversation. Because I mean, again, I'm, I'm blessed that I had it hard, but I'm also blessed that I had to do so many different things because I had to be in all these different worlds to now merge all my worlds together.
I come from dancing in La Sala [Tucker: Mm-hmm], like you in the living room, but I never forgot that that living room, that living room always stayed with me. Those, those songs and those planas and those always stayed with me. I think that's the difference now. It's that for us, we, we can now speak in a way that is being appreciated and embraced [Tucker: Yes] as opposed to it looked down upon or dismissed. And so that's what I'm hoping that would for my grandmother, my, my mother, and that your mother and what she's doing with you and that all of those, all of our, all of our ancestors that poured into us, that they're proud because that's the voices that I still hear now. So when I create, I walk into the room with them and when it doesn't feel right, I go, “peace out. I gotta go.”
[Both Tucker and Torres laugh]
Milteri Tucker: It's interesting how, for me. When I became a mom, that really shifted everything for me as well. My perspective, my, what, what I was going to focus on, how am I going to continue to survive, even as a dancer and choreographer in this world that we're in [Torres: Yeah]. How am I going to influence her, you know and make her, you know, love her culture too. I think also just reflecting on our communities and our people, we need to do better.
Maria Torres: Oh yeah.
Milteri Tucker: To support each other, because even today in 2024, that colonialist, colonialistic separation is still within us [Torres: Yeah] that we keep tearing each other down instead of supporting it. Because when I started with Bomba, the community at large, that was at the moment did not support me at all [Torres: Yeah]. Then I had to create my own community [Torres: Absolutely]. I had to look past that [Torres: Mm-hmm] and say, “Well, you know, great. You have your own way. I'm doing my own thing” [Torres: Yeah] But sometimes you feel alone. And if it wasn't for people like you, that you see past all of that, it's not about the me, it's about the us moving forward.
Maria Torres: Yes.
Milteri Tucker: We have to work together and continue to uplift.
Maria Torres: That's what I was saying before. It's a complex situation [Tucker: Right. Mm-hmm]. because Latinos in America is very different than Latinos in Latin America, hence Sol of El Barrio, right? And understanding that the complexity of how we see it is so much different. In New York, New Yorkinos, you know, Boricuas from New York and Latinos from New York. There's a vibe, there's a slap, there's a slang, there's a thing. And we are very forward. Latinos from the islands are not like that. I mean, you know, if there is a difference and there's already a barrier that needs to be broken. So that's not, that's not going to happen overnight.
But what I do see it's that right now, when I, when you look at all of social media and Puerto Rico and Colombia and all these. During 2020, I literally became the ambassador for the Latin American world because. I was, every day was talking to somebody from a different country [Tucker: Yeah]. Profe, That’s what they call me. Profe, which is professional [Tucker: Yeah] [Tucker laughs]. "Profe, give me a word of wisdom.” I said, “Continue your art, whichever way that you can” “Profe, they're, they're locking me up because I didn't want to take the job and I'm locked up” and I said, “You know what? You do what you need to do to be able to keep yourself afloat. And if you're not able to make money, if you can get to a wifi, then get to a wifi and teach online and make your money that way. Start a fundraiser. We'll help you that way.” I think it's for me, for me, all I could say is the way that I've been brought up in the way that I want to continue for all of us to think about is that obstacles and problems are always going to be there. And that it's not, it's not up to us to try and fix everybody. But if we can pour into one or two and they become leaders, they're going to put in, pour into many, look what you're doing. You never know what you and what you're affecting or how you're impressing in order for change to happen. And I've been blessed and continue to be blessed while I'm still cute and alive to understand and to hear stories of change. So change takes time.
[Music begins]
Brinda Guha: These two powerhouses were brought together for a reason, and I think I know what that reason is. Culture. Deep and profound and layered culture. The generosity they've shared is overwhelming to me. I'm sure if we listen closely, we'll be able to hear their grandmothers too.
Milteri Tucker: Dida Bole Je, las cosas se hacen bien hechas o no se hacen? Meaning, you do things right the first time or you don't do them at all.
Maria Torres: Dida Bole Je. Be present and comfortable in your own skin and it's okay to speak in drafts.
[Outro music begins]
Brinda Guha: How People Move People, is brought to you by The National Center of Choreography at The University of Akron, or NCCAkron. This podcast is produced by Jennifer Edwards, associate production by Lisa Niedermeyer, and editing by James Sleeman. How People Move People theme music by Ellis Rovin, and “As Grandmother Says” theme music by Roopa Mahadevan. Transcription is by Arushi Singh. And cover art is by Micah Kraus.
A huge thanks to this episode’s wondrous duo, Milteri Tucker and Maria Torres, for that honoring of the journey that brought them to this point in their craftsmanship. To be invited into their world of legacy and mission-driven work, and to meet their queen grandmother figures is so important to me, and I hope for everyone else too. Gratitude to Anjali Roychowdhury and Bani Guha, my grandmothers.
And a huge thank you to the cohort of creatives I brought together that held me accountable in this curatorial vision, including: Eva Yaa Asantewaa, Farah Yasmeen Shaikh, Barkha Patel, Sydnie Mosley, Stacie Webster, Candace Thompson-Zachery, and Christy Bolingbroke. Special thanks to The John S. and James L. Knight Foundation for their continued support of NCCAkron programming. To learn more about NCCAkron, please visit us online at nccakron.org and follow us on Instagram or Facebook @nccakron. We hope you enjoyed this episode and encourage you to subscribe on all your favorite podcast streaming platform by searching for How People Move People.
Dida Bole Je. Free every person in the world fighting their oppressors and listening closely for their grandmothers, too.