From the forthcoming book Becoming Spectacular: The Rhythm of Resilience from the First African American Rockette, by Jennifer Jones. Copyright © 2025 by Jennifer Jones. To be published on Feb. 18, 2025, by Amistad, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers. Excerpted by permission.
On January 31, 1988, I made my national debut with the world-famous Radio City Rockettes at the NFL Super Bowl halftime show in San Diego. It’s no exaggeration or cliché to say that it was an impossible illusion made real for my younger self, who desperately wanted to succeed as a dancer and performer.
Courtesy HarperCollins Publishers.
I became the first Black Rockette in sixty-two years. In the 1980s, affirmative action initiatives aimed to promote diversity in the workforce, but faced challenges and pushbacks. Some organizations resisted these efforts, leading to debates and tension. The era high-lighted the complexities and controversies surrounding these programs, emphasizing the importance of ongoing support for inclusivity and equality in workplaces and communities.
But at the time of my Super Bowl appearance, internal entertainment industry politics were still hidden to me. I was as green as blades of fresh-cut grass in the summer. I couldn’t get caught up in the symbolism of what my inclusion meant, because I had a job to do. Which meant I was a lot more focused on my big break and needing to prove myself to my new employers than what was happening around me.
The Rockettes are a precision dance troupe with a deeply rooted reputation, so we had to be perfect. A not-so-unofficial motto we have is that you’re only doing your job if you’re attracting no attention. Perfection and uniformity are musts, because if any dancer does more or less than the woman standing next to her, it disrupts the illusion that people love so much: a chorus line of women who move and appear as one.
As a Black woman, I stand out anywhere I go. Brown skin. Long legs. Wide eyes. Curly hair. As a matter of fact, I was born standing out, arriving in a world where the media and popular culture favored whiteness. In an industry that prioritized white fans and families, uniformity sold. I needed to work overtime to ensure that my first time onstage with the Rockettes wouldn’t be my last.
During press tours I didn’t speak much about myself, though the reporters did try to dig and get into the racial part of things. Instead, I kept the interviews focused on my excitement to be a part of such an outstanding organization, despite rumored racial tensions behind the scenes.
Rockettes founder Russell Markert had once been quoted as saying, “If a girl got suntanned and she was alongside a girl who could not get the sun, it would make her look like a colored girl.” And then later, Rockettes choreographer Violet Holmes infamously and publicly stated, “One or two Black girls would definitely distract. You would lose the whole look of precision, which is the hallmark of the Rockettes.”
Reflecting on it now, I am deeply concerned by the notion that the Rockettes were not evaluated based on talent but rather on racial identity, which points to a troubling systemic and institutionalized racism within the performing arts. The historical context of the Rockettes’ founding as the Missouri Rockets in 1925 highlights a time when Black performers were unjustly prohibited from dancing alongside white performers, underscoring the pervasive inequality that permeated the entertainment industry.
Radio City’s top brass worked hard to ensure I answered the questions I was asked to their liking. They were strategic in getting the media to move beyond Violet’s words, focusing on me becoming a trailblazer and not on how it might affect the Rockettes’ uniformity.
None of that bothered me, because I knew nothing of the Rockette history, and I was there to dance. It was my first big job, and that’s what I was focused on. I knew dance was my life, and if what they needed from me was a smile and laughter at a few official Rockette activities, I would do that.
Throughout my time with the Rockettes, I would learn dance history, the history of the group, and the institutional and systemic racism that preceded me. I was so naïve. I’m not anymore.
I always knew I wanted to dance. But I had no idea that my life would take me on such a journey. No idea that I would be considered a “first” story when all I was doing was fulfilling a childhood dream. It’s now my responsibility to talk about that journey. To share my trials and tribulations, in the hopes that someone can learn from the lessons, setbacks, and hardships that I’ve had to overcome in my life.
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