The Resonance of Kinship: Jock Soto’s Return Inspires a New Generation

The premiere of the new short film, Following Enchantment’s Line, in Santa Fe, New Mexico, became a profound cultural event celebrating the career of the Diné and Puerto Rican ballet icon, Jock Soto. The film showcased the renowned dancer gliding beneath the vast blue skies of his native Southwest—a rare glimpse of his artistry for the audience. As the lights rose in the Lensic Performing Arts Center, the summer monsoon broke, and hard rain echoed the rhythmic precision of Soto’s life as he led a live rehearsal featuring dancers from Ballet Taos, accompanied by the classical music of his friend, Laura Ortman. The entire evening was a testament to Soto’s deep desire to share the rhythm and grace he honed during his illustrious 24 years with the New York City Ballet (NYCB).

From Reservation Drums to the Barre

Soto’s journey to the pinnacle of classical ballet began in the Southwest, where he learned his first forms of patterned movement. "I started hoop dancing with my mother," Soto recalled, continuing the practice "until I discovered ballet." Ballet quickly became his singular focus. His parents, Josephine Towne (Diné) and José Soto (Puerto Rican), were instrumental in this pursuit, locating the only local ballet school in Phoenix, Arizona, which required daily hours-long drives from their home. Due to his talent, Soto received a full scholarship, largely because he was the only male in the class.

The long journey from rural Arizona to New York City was particularly challenging for a Diné-Puerto Rican man, yet the rhythm of his heritage provided an early foundation. Soto remembers his father’s diverse musical tastes, sharing, "My dad loved salsa. He loved the Beach Boys, all that kind of stuff." He felt an immediate, visceral connection to certain sounds: "My heart jumps when I hear thump, thump, thump," from salsa or reservation drums, prompting the internal conviction, "I want to do this."

It is a widely accepted truth in the arts that individuals born in small rural towns must often leave home to pursue classical dreams. At just thirteen, Soto left school and moved to New York. Now sixty and retired from the stage, his mission has shifted: he is committed to sharing his story and artistry across the nation’s Tribal communities. The culmination of the premiere night saw the rain subside as Soto and his husband, Luis Fuentes, posed beneath the Lensic marquee which proudly proclaimed: INT MUSEUM OF DANCE & CD: AN EVENING WITH JOCK SOTO. The dancer relished the sight, saying, "I’m liking the marquee saying my name."

The Cost of Grace and the Digital Archive

The urgency behind Soto’s current work is palpable. At the theater lobby just before the premiere, he was careful to correct a misspelling of his name in a Navajo Times art section, using a black Sharpie to turn the 'A' into an 'O', but he happily kept the paper on the table, proud of the local recognition. The article detailed the International Museum of Dance's work to build a digital archive of his career, titled: “Jock Soto: The Dancer and His Life.”

When Soto finally took the stage, the audience witnessed the physical price of his dedication. His walk mirrored the burdened gait of NBA Hall of Fame greats like Bill Russell and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, movers who carry the quiet pain of decades of extraordinary physical achievement. "It’s not an easy career at all," Soto told the crowd from a chair on stage. "You know, it’s often painful. Like, I can’t even get out of this chair if I want to right now."

This stark physical reality underscores the urgency of his partnership with the International Museum of Dance. The digital archives are a vital tool for preserving dance legacies and educational materials, much like a similar project inspired a history book about the influence of the Dance Theater of Harlem on Black ballet dancers. The Museum’s long-term goal is to open a physical space in 2026 for residencies and events, but for now, the archives reside in a digital cloud hosted by the nonprofit ChromaDiverse. The organization meticulously sifts through web data to unearth forgotten photos, videos, posters, and press detailing the careers of dancers like Soto. The archive provides the fastest way to immerse oneself in Soto’s life and also hosts the Moving Memories Fund, which established the Jock Soto Scholarship, whose first recipient is a Chickasaw dancer, Heloha Tate.

Ascent to Principal and the Masculine Role

Soto’s talent was recognized early. At the age of twelve, he received a full scholarship to the prestigious School of American Ballet in New York City. The shift from an all-female class in Phoenix to one with forty male students was transformative. "I felt amazing," Soto said, viewing the change not as competition, but as the way that he "evolved."

At sixteen, he accepted an invitation from the legendary choreographer George Balanchine to join the New York City Ballet. Just four years later, Soto achieved the apex of a dancer’s career, becoming the company’s principal dancer. He matured quickly, living frugally with fellow dancers in a shared apartment near the school, where they spent every day until seven in the evening "dancing. That’s all we did."

Soto’s defining performances came as a "natural partner," a role where he mastered the masculine duty of lifting and leading the ballerina while ensuring she remained the dominant stage presence. This mastery originated in his youth, where his mother was his first dance partner in the Southwest powwow circles; she led, and he followed until he was skilled enough to lead.

Now a teacher and openly gay man, Soto emphasizes the traditional stage gender roles necessary for successful performance, teaching dancers that "a man is a man onstage." He insists, "If I see anything other than that, I correct it right away," affirming the necessity of maintaining the masculine and feminine distinctions in the classical form.

The Ripple Effect of Recognition

Soto, whose Diné clan is Tó’aheedlíinii ("water flowing together"—the title of a 2007 documentary about his life), was born near his home in Chinle, Arizona, at the closest Indian Health Services Hospital in Gallup. He credits his mother as his strength and his "macho Puerto Rican" father for creating an accepting environment, laughing that he didn't tell them he was gay until he was thirty, only for his mother to reveal, "We’ve known that ever since you were 18."

Despite being one of only several dozen men among the more than 700 NYCB alumni to reach principal status, Soto’s rare talent and rapid ascent left him feeling distant from the Indigenous community. This historical gap suggests a clear mandate for state lawmakers and education reformers to partner with local ballet groups to expand arts programming in Native communities and schools.

The urgency of this work is evident in the push to integrate Soto’s digital archive into New Mexico public schools within the next year. This initiative supports the billions the state has invested since 2018 under a court order to improve education for Indigenous, non-English-speaking, and disabled students. State lawmaker Shannon Pinto, who met Soto at the premiere, eagerly welcomed the effort, stating, "We need to make sure that the arts are something we bring forward with some funding, at least, because we know it’s been on the back burner."

The impact of Soto’s presence is already being felt. Jicarilla Apache President Adrian Notsinneh, who encountered Soto's work for the first time at the Lensic, presented the dancer with a blanket gift. Notsinneh spoke movingly of Soto’s influence, comparing him to a stone skipped across water: "As it jumps across, it causes ripples. Each time it hits the surface, it radiates. So what I’m seeing from this type of person that’s standing here with me is a type of person that causes that ripple effect."

The enthusiasm was palpable in the audience. Santa Fe calligraphy artist Blythe Mariano (Diné), who was born in the same Gallup hospital as Soto, was overwhelmed by the occasion: "To know that somebody from where I’m from made it all the way to New York is like, oh my God, I’m getting overwhelmed." At the close of the evening, Soto beamed with excitement when asked about the large number of young Indigenous people in the crowd. "I loved it, I loved it. It’s inspiring!" he radiated, adding the crucial final sentiment: "You have to be inspired."