Laurel Boyd Lives to Dance

Written by Melissa Karen Sances
Photos by Nikki Gardner

Published in Northampton Living (March 2024)

For Laurel Boyd, dancing was an awakening. While growing up outside of Boston, the studio was a refuge from the chaos that lived in her house. It was where she escaped, not just to a space but to a place inside of her that yearned to move. When she was 9, she found joy in jazz. Her teacher, a trained ballerina, was both elegant and boundless. “Part of me thought, ‘Maybe I can be strong and powerful and beautiful,’” she remembers. “‘Maybe I can be really excellent at something.’”

This month, as the owner of Ascendance Inner World Arts turns 50, she feels both at peace and as passionate as ever. “We are in a space now that we’re just really happy,” she says, and “we” has multiple meanings. It speaks to the studio, which is now 8 years old in spite of a pandemic. It refers to her and her teen daughter Charlotte, whom she teaches and who inspires her every day. And it honors all the parts of Boyd – the dancer, the instructor, the woman and the mother – that have finally found a rhythm together.

“The mission of the studio,” she explains, “is about knowing yourself and becoming who you are versus allowing the world to tell you who you are.” This journey of self-discovery is one she knows intimately. “When I was talking with my parents about dancing and making that my career choice, my father said, ‘That’s a cute hobby, but you’ll be paying for it by yourself.’” She would fund her education at UMass-Amherst, but only after rising to another challenge: She had to audition for their dance program 4 times.

“I have this fire that gets ignited when you tell me you don’t think I can do something,” she explains. “But when you’re truly passionate about something, a rejection doesn’t matter. It just means you have a little farther to go.” After the first 3 rejections, she asked herself what was missing from her repertoire, and then she got good at it. When done with UMass, she was accepted into Smith College’s graduate program on the first try. Now she has a master of fine arts in choreography and performance.

While at Smith, Boyd had an encounter with a male professor that changed her. In a seminar one day, he asked each student for their opinion. But when it came time for her to share, she didn’t know what to say. “I don’t think I have anything to contribute,” she told him. “I think everybody has said how I feel.”

“Are you kidding?” the instructor asked.

“I don’t want to bore anybody,” answered Boyd.

That’s when the professor got in her face. “Who do you think you are?” he thundered at her. “How do you know that what you have to say has no value to anyone here?”

That was the last time Boyd silenced herself. rough dance – the study and the practice of it – her voice and her spirit would flourish. Later, as a mother, she would hear her teacher’s voice in her head and speak it to her daughter. In time, her own studio would become a celebration of self-expression.

In 2016 Ascendance opened its dance floors to 58 students. The studio was thriving when Covid hit.

“You know that fire we talked about?” Boyd asks. “At that point I had to go to battle for my life, for my daughter, and for our students, who told me that the [remote] classes we were able to offer were helping them survive the pandemic.” The community rallied around her. “Miraculously, and I do mean miraculously,” she says, “we made it through Covid, and that’s because the community believes in our vision that movement and dance and art are healthy and valuable and good for their children.” Today there are 235 students enrolled at Ascendance, which includes an invitation-only company.

“When I’m at Ascendance, I feel so at home, safe and playful,” says Boyd’s daughter Charlotte, who started dancing there when she was 5. “I can just go in an empty studio and dance without the feeling of not being good enough, which can be hard in other atmospheres in the dance world.” ough she is part of the company, she appreciates that her mom has established a scholarship program so that movement can be accessible to everyone.

As her birthday approaches, Boyd feels hopeful and grateful. “Dancing has saved my life so many times,” she says. “I don’t know what life would look like without it.”