There are two different reactions, it seems, to the sound of a battle cry—some sink into a hidden crevice or perhaps beeline in the opposite direction, afraid to be in the direct line of conflict. Others cry back. For the first time in my life, I cried back. 

On April 18, the Brava Theater, located on 24th street in the Mission District, was a space of screaming, particularly, that of the “Grito de Dolores” (“Cry of Dolores”), the Mexican battle cry for independence. Lined in the theater seats, a community that understood the significance of “showing” pain, rather than just telling stories of pain. On this particular night, Ballet Nepantla’s “Valentina” fused traditional baile folklórico with contemporary ballet to depict the resilience of women during the Mexican Revolution. 

From the other side of the country in New York, Ballet Nepantla has choreographed, dressed, and intricately chosen 10 performers to pay tribute to the culture and the stories of the Mexican Revolution. The Brava Theater — a community space in the Mission since 1986 — welcomed this group of artists in an effort to “explore the space between love and hate, hope and despair.” 

Throughout the hour and a half production, Brava’s stage depicted periods of the day, teetering among dawn, dusk, and moonlit scenes — deep blues, gradually escalating warmth with use of  yellows and oranges, all courtesy of the audio and lighting supervisor, Rene Elizarraras. 

These colors intentionally contrasted the work of the wardrobe team on board: Yvette Lannelli, Martín Rodríguez, Yvonne Guajardo, Francesca Lannelli, Jorge Naranjo, and Maricarmen B. Rodríguez, all of whom collaboratively created multiple outfits, highlighting different scenes and mood shifts throughout. 

With the exception of a few scenes, these 10 performers were continuously paired onstage. Guadalupe Garza and Maricarmen B. Rodriguez, Jorge Naranjo and Francesca Lannelli, Martín Rodríguez and Andrea Guajardo. This illustrated the traditional family unit, and to bring light to the separation of that unity in wartimes. 

They began twirling in synchronicity, with both parties dressed lavishly in rich, deep colors. The audience watched as reluctant wives, robed in endless black clothing, dressed their husbands in button down shirts, strapping their revolvers onto their backs, slowly preparing them for war. 

The story being told was delicately broken up with the work of Sarah Gresik and Dan Westfield. A ballerina through and through, Gresik took to stage like a dove — draped in beautiful whites, laces, and  hair pulled into intricate braids. With Westfield as their anchor, the pair served as a breath of fresh air to meet these scenes of great intensity with even greater fragility. 

The dance that followed was a collective expression of pain and deep mourning. This served the audience in a similar way that a tearfilled goodbye might have looked — men and women pulling their counterparts closer, as if their lives depended on their physical relation to one another. 

And, with a blink, Guadalupe Garza takes center stage, strutting from corner to corner with a very large lasso. Howling with encouragement, the audience was incapable of remaining silent as Garza placed himself in the middle of the lasso, allowing it to snap around him while he performed an incredibly choreographed tap dance solo in the middle of the loop. 

 On April 18, Members of Ballet Nepantla performed “Valentina” at Brava Theater on April 18, a theatrical show highlighting the role of women during the Mexican Revolution. Photo: Brynn Case

His comrades joined him, moments later, to tap in unison, all in matching reds, whites, and blacks. Gresik, the primary ballerina of the show, effortlessly spun in the center of the circle that these men had created, all dancing as they surrounded her. And she stood tall, demanding all eyes on her without speaking a word. 

We watch as the women on stage get word that their husbands have been killed in battle. Collapsing to the floor with incredulous heaviness, these wives lament the death of their husbands, after previously lamenting the separation of that same family structure. 

In a moment that remains climactic, these women lift up their husbands guns, towards the fire-resembling sky, and begin marching to the beat of their capability. This begins with one woman, one gun. The others soon follow. A powerful message. 

The finale of the show pictures each of the performers dancing intricately, in bright reds, purples, and greens— united once more. 

For all members of the audience — those with ancestry planted in Revolutionary Mexico and those without — Ballet Nepantla presented a night of utter allurement. We heard a story of generational pain, but we were also introduced with an opportunity to feel that pain. The Grito de Dolores was something that all of us felt that night. 

Multimedia journalist Lorena Garibay takes us behind the curtain of Ballet Nepantla’s Valentina, a theatrical production that fused traditional baile folklórico with contemporary ballet to tell the stories of Las Adelitas, the women who fought in the Mexican Revolution. Valentina performed at San Francisco’s Brava Theater Center on April 15-16, 2022.