This fall, India Bradley made history with her promotion to Soloist at the New York City Ballet—the first Black woman to do so in the company’s history. She steps into a role that’s the culmination of decades of intense physical and mental preparation…and maybe a little bit of intervention from the universe, as she suggests.

The daughter of a dancer—her mother is a former member of the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater—Bradley decided at a young age that ballet would be her future, and ever since has been laser-focused on that future. By 12, she was offered a full scholarship to the Dance Theatre of Harlem's summer intensive program. And by 14, a chance encounter with an icon, Arthur Mitchell—the first Black principal dancer of NYCB and one of the founders of the Dance Theatre of Harlem—led Bradley to develop a mentorship that continued to support her in moving closer to her dreams. “I was choosing things,” she says, reflecting on her path, “but life was also choosing it for me.” 

In 2017, Bradley became an apprentice at NYCB and, the following year, joined the Corps de Ballet. She’s no stranger to challenging the status quo—she made history as the first Black ballerina to dance the role of Dewdrop in George Balanchine’s The Nutcracker in 2023, as well—but it’s also not necessarily driving her ambition. For Bradley, every rehearsal, every performance is a challenge to herself. Especially now, in her role of Soloist on one of the most prestigious stages in the world, she relishes learning what her body, mind, and spirit are capable of. And surely, where they might take her next.

In your head, you always think it's going to feel this way, or it's going to look a certain way. I always thought I was going to be so hysterical and just sobbing. Not that I wasn't happy, but I was so much calmer than I thought I would be. I think it comes from feeling really prepared from months and years and hours of rehearsals and roles that I felt like I had really gotten sturdy underneath my dance belt. I didn’t feel like this was coming at a crazy time or crazy way. I was like, "I'm prepared and ready and excited."

For years, I was labeled as this naturally gifted kind of dancer—not quite refined, a little rough around the edges—and that was always fun. Then, as I got older, I was like, "I don't know if I want to be that." I was figuring out who I was as a dancer and as a person, and how I wanted to be seen and portrayed. I was in my 20s, it was post-pandemic, and I had been given a lot of opportunities. People were watching me, but I was so unsure of myself.

It takes a lot of inner work to get rid of that imposter syndrome and believe that you deserve the opportunities you’re getting. And part of that process is to work hard. I stopped questioning that when I was putting in my hours of Pilates, of extra training, and of coaching. When I knew that I'd done what I needed to, the doubt inside my head started to fade away.

For some people, things come very naturally, and they don't have that guilt. And why would you? But at the end of my career, I want to feel like I deserve every single thing I've ever been given.

I was exposed to so many creatives in my family who really shaped who I am and what I knew I wanted at a young age. The box that I was given never had four walls. I always felt like I could do whatever I wanted. 

I remember we took a trip to New York City for the first time when I was maybe 10. We walked from the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater—because my mom had to say hi to all her friends—to Lincoln Center. She was pointing out the American Ballet Theatre, the New York City Ballet, and then the Juilliard building. She was showing me all these things and asked, “Do you ever see yourself doing anything in dance?” And I was like, "Oh yeah, this is actually exactly what I had in mind.” I didn't even know what I was talking about.

From that point on, I was generally in the world of performing arts. Every summer, I would act at a performing arts camp. By the age of around 12 or 13, I remember telling my mom, “I don't think my life's going to be here. I think it's probably going to be somewhere in New York.” And she said, "Okay, so that means you need better training." She did what she needed to do to get me there. It was that simple. She wasn’t judging. She understood and really let me dictate and guide my life.

When I was in my last year at the School of American Ballet, and it was time for auditions, I had already made my decision in my head. "I have no plan B. I'm going to get into the New York City Ballet." Maybe that was a source of manifestation because I wrote it down in my journal every day, and I said it every day. But I wasn't putting a lot of pressure on it, either. I just believed that was exactly how my life was going to go. Call it manifestation, incredible focus, or whatever you want. 

I was 14, and Arthur Mitchell happened to come teach a class that I was taking at the Dance Theatre of Harlem—this was years after he was no longer physically working with the company. Through his own interest, he was like, "I want to guide you." 

He asked me to go to lunch, and my mom said okay. It was me, him, and his assistant, and it was all very casual in my mind. Maybe for the adults in my life, it seemed crazy. He would give me advice, like: "When you walk into the School of American Ballet, you have to carry yourself, and keep your shoulders back, and be confident.” 

It's strange even to think that I spent time with Arthur Mitchell. I'm at lunch with this man who was like the closest thing to George Balanchine still alive at the time, who created the Dance Theater of Harlem, and he definitely has this path he clearly sees for me. I didn't force that to happen, but things lined up. The pipeline between Dance of Harlem and how I ended up at New York City Ballet—I did not do that. There are certain parts of it that I had no control over; life just brought me to it.

I can think of times when I was disappointed that things didn't go exactly the way I wanted, but I don't ever remember hearing the word “no.” And I don't know whether that's because those words were said or not. But whenever I felt disappointed about something, it was usually because I had disappointed myself. I've said no to myself many times. "No, that was not good enough." "No, I'm not ready." Maybe people have said no, but it didn't bother me as much as the times that I've said no to myself because those are really hard.

I don't know if I'm intentionally thinking about challenging a status quo, but I'm definitely intentionally challenging my mind to see how strong it actually is. What I've learned about this added amount of pressure is that our bodies can feel many different things, and how much you can actually do when your mind is clear of the wrong thoughts and sturdy with the right ones. The most fun thing has been seeing how strong the mind actually is and how far it can take you past your physical self. That's what’s really interesting to dive into in this first season of being a soloist. It’s less about challenging things that are from outside noises or opinions and more about challenging things that I create on my own. I'm only in a race with myself and my own mind. It's just a competition with me, myself, and I.

The other day, I was listening to Jamiroquai's “Cosmic Girl” from 1999, and I was like, "I want my outfit to feel like this today.” A specific episode of Sex in the City is how I want my outfit to feel. A sad song is how I want to present myself. It's less textile or physical. I think music and random moments influence what I wear. That's why I always tell people, "Go to the ballet, watch a good film, and listen to a good song every now and again." You can't get all your crap off Pinterest. Sometimes you have to go have lunch without looking at your phone and look at the people walking down the street, because that will give you real inspiration.