God Is a Woman. Argue with Your Father. TEXTURES Dance Theatre at Atlas INTERSECTIONS by Ashayla Byrd

TEXTURES Dance Theatre: TEXTURES

Atlas Performing Arts Center, Washington D.C.

March 8th, 2026, 8pm

By Ashayla Byrd

If He dresses the lilies with beauty and splendor / How much more will He clothe you? (x2) 

I suppose the “He” in question would be God. As a preacher’s kid, I was raised to believe that I was made in the image of God. Though I’m not religious anymore, that now leads me to believe that God is a queer, Black woman. I can get down with that. The above lyrics come from the contemporary gospel song “Jireh” by Elevation Worship and Maverick City Music. The song’s instrumentation smooths a spiritual balm over the Lang Theater of the Atlas Performing Arts Center for the first dance work of the night. TEXTURES Dance Theatre, founded and directed by Marcus Isaiah, presents “TEXTURES,” an evening-length concert from an array of movement genres that “explore[s] identity, resilience, and community.” 

The assuring lyrics from “Jireh” pair exquisitely with the vibrant blooming of flowers on the stage’s back wall: lilies, rosies, daisies, tulips, and the like. The familiar chords transport me to a restful space, one enveloped in care, serenity, and reverence for gospel music’s veneration of the divine. The ever-empowering, thunderous voice of Angela Bassett then proclaims, “When you’re told you’re not good enough, tell them, ‘Not only am I good enough, I’m more than enough.’” And this is when I perked up. This is when I leaned in. 

Section I features three selections: “By Blood, By Bone,” “If Not for Grace,” and “The Shape of Progress”. In each work, the cast of Black femmes dazzles the stage, commanding the space with confidence, athleticism, and elegant movement execution. The company’s syncopation and polyrhythmic prowess keeps them in complete control of the musical narrative spinning amongst them. Their movement is predominantly based in a contemporary movement vocabulary, inclusive of “dynamic weight shifts, spirals, rhythmic footwork, and athletic partnering that travels boldly through space” per the program note. A testament to founder Marcus Isaiah’s choreographic aptitude and the company’s technical skilfullness, I also notice the quick-footed specificity of ballet’s lexicon, the bodily isolations and sheer dynamism of jazz dance, and the familiar swagger of several beloved Black social dance steps. To make matters even better, the cast is clad in stunning earth tones of varying hues: tan, blush, lavender, powdered blue, forest green, amber, etc. Leave it to Black folks to know exactly how to make our skin look that much more radiant on stage. 

Section I emphasizes the necessity for speaking kind words over one’s self, acknowledging that we are all works in progress. Former First Lady Michelle Obama offers sage advice within a musical track: “I’m still a work in progress, and facing myself each morning with something kind is still a challenge. I try every day to… greet myself with a positive message.” Nigerian woman writer Chimamanda Ngozi Adichi, in a separate instance, expands on the notion of self-growth within the context of a failing patriarchal societal structure determined to suppress women: “We teach girls to shrink themselves, to make themselves smaller. We say to girls, ‘you can have ambition, but not too much. You should aim to be successful, but not too successful. Otherwise, you would threaten the man.’” Whew, my goodness. 300,000 years of modern human existence, and men still think everything is about them. I appreciate the inclusion of so many phenomenal Black women’s voices in the overall score for the performance. The choice creates a sense of familiarity for me; it is as if my famous Black aunties all gathered for a board meeting with the sole purpose of modeling how to boss up and change my life. And you know what? Thank you, aunties. I needed that. 

Seeing such a gifted collective of Black femmes dominate the stage imbues me with pride, a pride that continues to swell throughout the evening’s performance. Section II, the most stirring for me, includes four works: “Muse,” “The Shift,” “Where Two or Three Are Gathered,” and “Face Yourself”. In “Muse”, a soloist reconciles with her own sense of beauty and self-esteem, a deeply personal journey that I know all too well. As I continue to grow and change over time, my self-regard waxes and wanes. This solo is a captivating reminder that I am my own muse, inspiration and guiding light. The journey toward self-acceptance can often feel lonely, but it is particularly empowering to be surrounded by those who can galvanize, comfort, and champion us as we heal. 

Sandwiched between “The Shift” and “Where Two or Three Are Gathered” is a video clip of Kerry Washington reciting abolitionist Sojourner Truth’s “Ain’t I A Woman” speech, originally delivered by Truth in 1851 at a Women’s Rights Convention. Acting down with all 32 of her teeth (if you know, you know), from her molars to her incisors, Washington begins: 

“Well, children, where there is so much racket there must be something out of kilter. I think that ‘twixt the negroes of the South and the women at the North, all talking about rights, the white men will be in a fix pretty soon. But what’s all this here talking about?”

Naturally, I wonder, Now what in the world is Kerry talking about, and why isn’t she wearing any shoes? What’s she reading from that podium? My synapses click a bit further in the speech when I hear the passage below: 

“That man over there says that women need to be helped into carriages, and lifted over ditches, and to have the best place everywhere. Nobody ever helps me into carriages, or over mud-puddles, or gives me any best place! And ain’t I a woman? Look at me! Look at my arm! I have ploughed and planted, and gathered into barns, and no man could head me! And ain’t I a woman?” 

Sojourner Truth’s “Ain’t I A Woman” speech challenged both the white male patriarchy as well as the white-centric women’s suffrage movement of the 19th century. I would hope that when Sojourner Truth spoke of rallying women together in the name of suffrage and women’s rights, she would also have hoped for a culture of support and care amongst the suffragettes. The “Ain’t I a Woman” speech is another keen inclusion of a trailblazing Black woman. It serves as a centuries-old nod to the ways in which Black women have toiled to be regarded as the formidable, invaluable, worthy people that we are. Although the world sometimes refuses to see us, we see each other. 

In both “The Shift” and “Where Two or Three Are Gathered”, the dancers exemplify the notion that though we each have our individual trials and bouts with adversity, the weight of carrying those burdens is made much lighter when it is not carried alone. In addition to the solemn atmosphere created by the music, the dancers exemplified such a palpable sense of tenderness with one another. This speaks to what I imagine to be a very thoughtful, intentional company and rehearsal culture–or perhaps really excellent acting! 

It is my right to be uncommon if I can…I refuse to live hand to mouth.  – The Entrepreneur’s Credo by Dean Alfange

“Face Yourself”, the closing duet for Section II, features fervent messaging about belief in one’s self, the importance of risk-taking in pursuit of goals, and faith that whatever can be dreamed can be done. The inspirational voiceovers come from men this time around, much to my surprise. One of them is Steve Harvey, so I figure that this is fine. He’s my aspirational uncle. The two dancers perform the choreography with such intensity and conviction; I cannot look away from them. It seems that they embody both their own individual journeys towards a goal as well as the obstacles that they meet in pursuit of their visions. The tension there is efficacious, seeing as how we, more often than not, stand in the way of our own progress. Perhaps my only note of critique for this duet comes with its placement within the section, especially given the large-group phrasework that follows. I would have placed the duet either before “Muse” or after, since both journeys are more individualized and personal. The intimate arc of overcoming self-doubt and ultimately discovering one’s unique purpose would flow more directly into the collective journey forward when the full cast returns for Section III: “IMONLYHUMAN”. 

I’m every woman / It’s all in me. / Anything you want done, baby / I’ll do it naturally.

I see Whitney Houston’s face and I immediately know what is coming. How did Marcus Isaiah manage to get the one and only Every Woman back onstage? [Note: I know Chaka Khan technically recorded and released “I’m Every Woman” first, but I’m Whitney’s (pretend) niece, through and through. Chaka’s more like my great aunt.] Without missing a beat, many of the audience members start clapping their hands while Houston’s 1993 music video (including a cameo from Chaka Khan!) of “I’m Every Woman” plays on the stage’s back wall. Ever jubilant, the audience sings and cheers while the joyous video plays, and I am grateful for the light-hearted breathing room that this moment provides after the more impassioned thematic content of Section II. 

Section III, entitled, “IMONLYHUMAN” is a dual celebration of both the TEXTURES Dance Theatre collective as well as each dancer that shared their heart onstage. Backed by the heartfelt vocals of the one and only Michael Jackson and The Andraé Crouch Singers in “Will You Be There?”, the dancers spread across the vastness of the Lang Theater stage, fully embodied and projecting their boundless energy outward toward the audience. Now dressed in vibrant jewel tones, each costume adorned with some variant of tulle, bows, satin, and frills, the ensemble truly glows onstage. I am struck by the beauty of the cast’s collective breaths together while they soar from one set of phrasework to the next. I am moved by each of the dancers’ individual gifts as movers when they step forward or towards the center of the stage to perform their unique solos. 

I hear so many mothers, aunties, friends, sisters, grandmothers, and families call out their babies’ names, cheering them on from the audience and closing the space between themselves and the dancers they hold dear. I am truly a sucker for moments like these, moments that turn a stage into an altar, a theater into a sanctuary. The dancers, their families, their ancestors, and their descendants all commune together in celebration of dance, Blackness, womanhood, family, and deep, unfettered love for one another. TEXTURES Dance Theatre stunned me beyond words, although I just shared about 1,830 words and counting. Their performance reminded me that I truly would not want to be anything other than a Black woman in any lifetime, and I am grateful to be one now. No matter what we face or how the world tries to undermine us, we rise ever-upward, charge ever-forward, and carry ever-onward. 

Asking for a friend–who may or may not be myself–when are the next auditions for TEXTURES?! 

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Ashayla Byrd (she/they) (@abyrdnyca) is a DC-based dance artist and writer who is dedicated to amplifying the voices of BIPOC, LGBTQIA+ folks. Originally from Virginia Beach, Ashayla is eager to explore the richness of DC’s dance and writing communities!