An artivist in more ways than one, Dwayne is incredibly aware of the toxic, restrictive standards of masculinity and how they influence dance. But he’s not willing to allow that to shake how he sees himself.

As he explains, “I have a lot of male students that are comfortable in the classroom and on stage but in their everyday lives, they don’t really feel like they have a chance just because they’re so privy to want to prove themselves to the outside world and society has deemed masculine or a man.

I’ve realized over the years people are different and I can’t allow myself to be responsible for what somebody else thinks and/or feels about who I am as a man. That’s not my job or my concern. Dance has helped me love the man that I am…There’s no right or wrong to being who you are.”

But what’s even more powerful is that Dwayne is one of the first men in this campaign to discuss how he struggled to fully accept the skin he was in.

“Going between high school and college, I developed an eating disorder since I was so consumed with not being the chubby 13-year-old. I didn’t always see the beauty other people saw in me, I only saw the flaws.

[Eventually,] I realized that the only person that is fully responsible for how I look is myself. I woke up one day and had to tell myself, ‘Look, you’ll never be perfect. There is always going to be something you’ll want to change or look better.’”

Few people would argue against the power of dance and the arts in changing lives for the better. But no one talks about how, for men, dance can help them discover their own power and continually make peace with who they are becoming.

“Dance has helped me love the man that I am,” Dwayne reveals. “Whether it be a day where I have to be super strong or proud or a protector or a lover, it has allowed me to be free with my inner self and love every part of me.”

I dance because I’m not a verbal person. So, it’s my complete way of expressing myself, getting most of my emotions out, either through text messaging or dancing (laughs).

It’s taught me to just accept who I am as a dancer and be proud of what I bring to the art form because there’s only one me. Accepting that and working to be the best me, whenever I have to present that, whether it be in the classroom or on stage that’s what dance has taught me about myself.

I started dance accidentally. My mom wanted my sister to dance and I was always the one mimicking her. My sister is eight years older than me, so imagine having that little brother copying everything you’re doing. I eventually was able to work with Houston Ballet through a partnership with my elementary school, so I was trained in classical ballet, modern, jazz, and tap since the age of three.

I always loved ballet. I liked the discipline of it. What made me leave ballet for a year or two was the fact that puberty hit and my body started changing. My whole perspective changed as well. People were telling me I had to take it more seriously and as a preteen and teenager, you don’t really know what that means.

[Eventually], I realized that the only person that is fully responsible for how I look is myself. I woke up one day and had to tell myself, “Look, you’ll never be perfect. There is always going to be something you’ll want to change or look better.”

I had to take into consideration that as a Black man, I am built differently; I have a very athletic build–it’s in my genetic makeup. That’s when I decided to commit to being my best. If that’s good enough, I’ll get the job. If not, that’s okay. It doesn’t mean I didn’t look good enough or something was wrong with me, it just means that I wasn’t what they were looking for.

The very first time I stepped on stage I just knew that I wanted to do it forever. The rush it gave me. Not even being the center of attention, but being in front of an audience and free. The freedom is what I appreciate about it.

My definition of freedom is limitless and infinite space, mentally and physically. It is being able to connect to myself in order to reach outside of myself, and share that without any inhibition or self-doubt.

There’s a quote that says, “You have nothing to prove but everything to share.” A lot of the time, we as people and artists put ourselves out to be judged. With that being the forefront of what we do, in order for people to accept and enjoy what we do in the entertainment industry, we feel that we have something to prove. We want to be applauded and get rave reviews and other tell us how beautiful we are. But for me, as long as I could remember, I’ve always felt like dance has been another way to communicate and share.

What we need today in the world is more forms of communication, and dance is definitely that for myself and a lot of people. It’s not easy to always just open your mouth and say what you feel. But it is very easy to emote that through your movement.

I have a lot of male students that are comfortable in the classroom and on stage but in their everyday lives, they don’t really feel like they have a chance just because they’re so privy to want to prove themselves to the outside world and society has deemed masculine or a man. And I feel like that’s not necessarily true. Being a man is a self-defined thing and it’s different for each guy. I feel like you yourself define who you are. “You can only be yourself because everyone else is already taken.”

I’ve realized over the years people are different and I can’t allow myself to be responsible for what somebody else thinks and/or feels about who I am as a man. That’s not my job or my concern. Dance has helped me love the man that I am. Whether it be a day where I have to be super strong or proud or a protector or a lover. It has allowed me to be free with my inner self and love every part of me. There’s no right or wrong to being who you are.

I feel like sometimes, especially coming from a strict ballet background, [men] get labeled as a tool a lot of the times just to show off the girl; you’re there to look nice in your tights and costume and make sure the girl stays on her “box.” But a lot of the times, we have to diminish our art so that we are an asset to someone else.