What if boys and men who dance didn’t have to justify their choices with assurances about how traditionally masculine ballet is? What if they didn’t feel the need to shore up their masculinity, and for many, their heterosexuality, by emphasizing the bravura leaps and turns that ballet demands of them in addition to all that beauty? What if they were allowed to be dainty and pretty—what if they were allowed to be feminine—without apology?
