POWER MOVES

Inspired by a photo series spotlighting the baile folklórico dancers of Mexico, STEPHANIE ELIZONDO GRIEST considers her own evolving relationship with her Mexican roots—and refl ects on how the dance became a symbol of national identity.

- STEPHANIE ELIZONDO GRIEST

THE YEAR I TURNED 30, I decided it was time to make my ancestors proud—or at least stop disgracing them. So I quit my job in Brooklyn, shoved my stuff into storage, and moved to the colonial city of Querétaro to become more Mexican. My goal was to improve my gringa Spanish, but on my way to class that fi rst day, I got distracted by a joyous sound. Across a courtyard and down a hall spun a colour wheel: magenta and green, tangerine and turquoise, red and yellow, whirling from the skirts of a dozen women practising Mexican baile folklórico, or folk dance. They were uniformly radiant as they sashayed with their partners across a floor that doubled as an instrument. Together, they pounded and clattered their feet against the wooden slats, each beat amplified by the nails in their shoes. Their energy was kinetic, their smiles ebullient.

I was reminded of that day when I encountered Dancing Flare, a photo series by the French photographer Delphine Blast, highlights of which are shown on these pages. Blast captures the dancers of a Querétaro troupe in motion, showing both the jubilation and dignity of folklórico. Each detail—a headpiece, an embroidered hem—hints at its heritage. Every swish of a skirt and stomp of a foot tells a story.