Opening Doors Through Dance

An Interview with Zazel-Chavah O’Garra, director of ZCO/Dance Project

BY EMMALY WIEDERHOLT; PHOTOS BY GUSTAVO MONROY

Zazel-Chavah O’Garra is the director of ZCO/Dance Project, a company primarily based in New York City that fosters the integration and inclusion of people with disabilities, both in dance and in society in general. Zazel shares her dance journey and how a brain tumor surgery catalyzed her passion for integrating dancers with disabilities, as well as how her upcoming work aims to look at the experiences of people who are LGBTQ or have a disability from the Caribbean.

Note: This article was first published in Stance on Dance’s fall/winter 2024 print issue. To learn more, visit stanceondance.com/print-publication.

Five dancers rehearse in a studio. They are all wearing bright blue and holding bright colored scarves. Two are in wheelchairs, two are standing, and the dancer in the foreground is sitting on a chair.

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Can you share with me a little about your dance history – what shaped you as an artist?

I’ve been around the block. I started dancing at eight years old because I had a problem with the way I walked. That was the key moment in my life. My godmother told my mother to have me dance so it would strengthen my legs. She sent me to a dance school where her daughter was going located in Harlem. I was signed up for tap and ballet, and immediately I fell in love with it. I loved being in the classroom and being with the other students. At the end of every year, we had a recital at Lincoln Center or Carnegie Hall. That was when I first knew I loved being on the stage. I loved seeing the audience and getting a round of applause. I would be a ham; my smile was huge. I had on a glitzy costume and my whole family was in the audience. I loved all the attention and the applause. I knew I had to be a dancer.

I auditioned for the High School for the Performing Arts, and it was the first time I was exposed to real competition. It was very rigorous, and they put the students through the ringer. I remember seeing all the judges at the front and I was just riddled with fear. But I remember saying to my mother that I would not go to high school if I didn’t get into that school.

I got accepted and immediately I wanted to major in ballet. But because I have a shapely body with hips and a butt (I’m from the Caribbean), in those days if you didn’t have the right body, they wouldn’t pay attention to you. They would call the dancers they liked to be in the front line, and if you didn’t have the right look, they would put you in the back. I hated being in the back line. Of course, I went on a diet and lost 20 lbs., just like everyone else in my class. I tell girls today, “Don’t be stupid enough to feel that you have to do bad things to your body to be on top.”

From there, I studied at Dance Theatre of Harlem, another competitive place where I received great training. I got a scholarship and was in their apprenticeship program. I was obsessed with Ailey, and I got a scholarship to study there. It was a wonderful experience where I learned Horton, Graham, jazz, and ballet. I would have four classes a day. I couldn’t sleep because I was so excited about the next day. It was an amazing experience.

Fast forward, I went on to get accepted to the University of Michigan dance department. That was where I was first exposed to Cunningham technique and more abstract dance. I had a well-rounded experience there. When I graduated, I started to perform, got involved in musical theater, and lived abroad in Europe for several years, expanding my dance career. Although it was challenging and very competitive, it was just wonderful to live in Europe and meet different dancers.

What was the impetus behind ZCO/Dance Project? Why did you start the company?

I started the company number one because dance is my life, but number two because I became disabled 20 years ago when I was diagnosed with a brain tumor that left me partially paralyzed on my right side. I also had delayed speech and cognitive deficits. I knew after I woke up from the 12-hour surgery that my life would be different.

When I went through rehab, which was very difficult, they put all the patients with brain injuries in a room together to do occupation therapy and physical therapy. I was sitting in my wheelchair and raising my good leg up in the air and the others would look at me like, “How do you do that?” I knew I had to keep moving. I would force the occupational therapists to lay me on a mat and to bring my legs up to my head. They said, “We’ve never met anybody like you.” I’ll never forget there was a barre on the wall. I asked them to lift my leg and put it on the barre. It was amazing. I felt like dance was still in my life.

When I left rehab, I joined all sorts of brain tumor organizations, one of which was the Brain Tumor Foundation in New York City. They were hosting an event called Brain Tumor Awareness Day with neurosurgeons, neurologists, speech pathologists, physical therapists, etc. There were more than 500 people at NYU Langone Hospital, and they asked me to dance. I said I can’t dance; I have paralysis on my right side. And they said, “Try it.” I picked out some beautiful music by Regina Carter, a jazz violinist, and they put a chair in the middle of the stage for me to sit in. When that music came on and I saw the audience, I was back to my old self. I lifted my arm, and this feeling came over me; it went into my soul and my spirit. I lit up the room with my smile. I loved it. When I finished, I got a standing ovation. I said to myself, I need to do this, I need to reach other people with disabilities, and let them know that even though you have limited ability, dance comes from your soul. That’s why I started the company.

Four dancers stand on stage wearing tight clothing and making gestures of happiness.

How would you describe the company’s work to someone unfamiliar with it?

We perform on stages and outdoors, and we perform all sorts of dance – modern, jazz, hip hop, improvisation, African dance with live drummers; I like to expose the dancers to all different genres. I also like to have guest choreographers. We have dancers with and without disabilities. I focus on dancers with physical and mental health disabilities. We don’t leave out anyone. In one of our pieces, we used video because some of the dancers are in different places. I have dancers here in New York, but I’ve also been working with a dancer for some time in California, as well as some dancers in New Jersey and a dancer in Pennsylvania. I teach some classes on Zoom, and then we have rehearsals and master classes in person.

Are there one or two pieces in your company’s repertoire that you’d like to share more about?

Last year, we did a wonderful piece called Invisible Visible by choreographer Chris Heller about disabilities that are both invisible and visible. Each performer told a story about how we have handled an invisible and visible disability. One young lady who has spina bifida shared how she was treated in school. Another dancer who was born with her arm paralyzed shared how she hid her arm from others because it was different. That piece premiered in 2023.

Memory Variations was also choreographed by Chris Heller about a memory that has really affected you. I picked the memory of my father who was a renowned astrologer and a wonderful tarot card reader. He is now deceased, but he left me the tarot card of the hermit. He wanted me to have it to live by. The hermit is about peace and tranquility. I wanted to share that imprint my father had on my life. Other dancers told stories about their mothers or partners. It was a beautiful piece and premiered this year.

Episodes of the Soul was a wonderful piece by Wendy Ann Powell that dealt with mental health and how we emerge from our bodies and deal with what’s going on in our minds. It also premiered this year.

A dancer in a wheelchair is pictured onstage from the side. She leans forward and extends her hand.

What are you working on next?

I’m originally from a small island in the Caribbean called Montserrat. My island has 5,000 people. On my island, and on other islands in the Caribbean, people don’t know how to deal with a person with a disability. I remember when I flew back to my island after my surgery, they didn’t know how to deal with me. Though my family was very supportive, people said, “Why you walking like that?” They just didn’t know how to deal with it.

The piece I’m doing in the fall is called Look Upon You. It’s about persons with disabilities from various countries that experience discrimination and don’t feel included. I’m also bringing in people in the LGBTQ community from the Caribbean. In the islands, if you’re LGBTQ, you’re looked at with shame.

I’m working with other dancers from the Caribbean. One dancer, Rianna, is an incredibly beautiful dancer. She has spina bifida. In her family growing up, it was very difficult. I spoke with another gentleman who is queer and who has mental health problems because he’s trying to be strong with his identity and be accepted within his family and country as a Caribbean queer individual. Another young lady with cerebral palsy is a powerhouse who likes to read poetry. I like to have spoken word in my shows.

I received the Queens Arts Fund grant from the New York Foundation for the Arts, and I just booked a theater, so now I’m trying to put the piece together.

How have you seen representation and opportunities for dancers with disabilities evolve over the past decade since you founded ZCO/Dance Project?

It is changing. I’m SAG-AFTRA, and within the union I’m part of the Performers with Disabilities Committee. In meetings, we talk about being included in auditions, or letting Broadway theaters know people with disabilities come to shows. Some buildings are old in New York City. I performed in Queens recently, and it was a beautiful studio and theater. I asked if it was wheelchair accessible, and they said we had to use the freight elevator, and someone had to be down there to let us up. That was a problem. Another time we were performing in Manhattan. The theater had a wheelchair lift but evidently they didn’t test the lift, because it broke. They had to call the fire department, and then one of the firemen had a bad back. One of my dancers had to sit on the steps and work her way down the steps. The theater apologized to us and offered the space for free. The same thing happened in February of this year again. The wheelchair lift was tested, but as we were leaving, it did not work. We had to call the fire department again. I’m always fighting for change. We have a performance on Tuesday at the United Nations. They told me they tested the wheelchair lift, but the problem is they test it with an able-bodied person, not a person in a heavy motorized wheelchair.

The pivotal moment in terms of change was a couple years ago when a dancer in a wheelchair won a Tony award. Now dance and theater are starting to open doors. They are starting to allow persons with disabilities to audition for television shows. Dance/NYC has dance artistry and disability grants. They are making a lot of changes, and I’m really happy about it.

Any other thoughts?

We are artists with disabilities, but we are artists. We want to share our creativity, our ideas, and our movement with all audiences.

Four standing dancers and two dancers in wheelchairs reach out to a dancer who crouches onstage wearing a mask.

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To learn more, visit www.zcodanceproject.com.

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