Who Gets to Tell the Story?
In ballet, we’ve spent centuries retelling stories about royalty, fantasy, and imagined worlds. But what happens when we take a story that’s real—rooted in a working-class neighborhood, in a young Latina voice, in the city of Chicago—and place it at the center of the stage?
Some people ask if it’s “universal” enough. But let’s be honest: ballet has never required universality. It’s asked us to empathize with princes, swans, and mythical kingdoms. Why, then, is it so difficult to ask an audience to see value in the life of a girl like Esperanza?
The House on Mango Street Ballet doesn’t just reimagine a novel. It reframes who gets to speak, and how. Choreographing this work has pushed me to draw not only from my training, but from my roots. I’m the descendant of Mexican immigrants and poor New Mexican farmers—people who had little but gave everything they had to the next generation. I am, quite literally, my ancestors’ wildest dreams.
Valerie Linsner in Mi Familia
That legacy gives me a responsibility: to tell the truth, to make space, and to bring others with me. Not just on stage, but into the process.
That’s why we’re excited to work with Dr. Citlali López-Ortiz, a Mexican immigrant and somatic scholar, to lead workshops where participants explore movement, writing, and their own stories. We’re not just performing a ballet. We’re building a living archive—one that includes voices from across our community. It’s choreography informed by proximity, not projection.
When our Second Company performs The House on Mango Street at the Logan Center in May, they’ll be doing more than dancing. They’ll be carrying questions about home, voice, and belonging. They’ll be honoring Cisneros’ original vision—and adding their own to it.
For donors and audiences who may feel distant from this material, I’d simply say: that distance is the reason this work matters. When we engage with stories that aren’t our own, we grow—not by erasing difference, but by stepping toward it with curiosity and care.
That’s the kind of ballet I want to make. One where the tradition expands, not contracts. One where home is not just something you’re born into—but something you help build.