Ferociously femme with an unquiet queerness, Cabrera lets loose her Latina, creating dances that are palpable, visceral, wild and relatable.
Artist Statement
Ferociously femme with an unquiet queerness, unapologetically addicted to alliteration and unafraid of the unruly, Bianca Cabrera, (ooo! That’s me!) choreographs from a place where spectacle and substance don’t just coexist—they co-conspire. My work moves easefully between the elegant and the outrageous, from the grotesquely beautiful to the beautifully grotesque, stitching together movement vocabularies that are as much ritual as they are riot. Whether spruced up in sequins, silk, sneakers or sweat, my work lives in the fierce in-between—graceful yet grisly, vamped yet virtuous, polished yet pulsing with the wild.
I make dances in homage to my ancestors. Ancestors of family and of formality, redoing/undoing it all in defiance of their dogma. With Blind Tiger Society as my platform, I both honor the sacred traditions of dance and seduce them into misbehaving. I toe the line and then teeter off of it—trading the safety of convention for the thrill of disruption. The work is driven not by serenity, but by hunger—more Bacchus than Buddha—an ecstatic, sensuous, physical hunger for question and connection.
My choreography is built from a vibrant, chaotic, and culturally rich amalgamation: baton twirling and burlesque, ballet and ballroom, club and cabaret, camp and contemporary, modern and postmodern, contemporary and (good ol' high fucking) kicks. These aren't just aesthetics—they are languages that speak to the multiplicity of femme force, ancient anarchy and queer catharsis. I let loose my Latina—not as icon or archetype, but as a living, sweating, yearning heartbeat—allowing her to tear through tears, tropes and timelines, making dances that are at once palpable, poetic, primal, and profoundly human.
The Blind Tiger Society repertoire boasts a dance argot shaped by my devotion to whiplash contrasts and emotional authenticity. It careens from the refined to the homespun, from pointed satire to aching, embarrassingly sweet, sincerity. The physical vocabulary is unfiltered and unflinching—a kinetic dialect of desire, danger, and delight. Expect unexpected partnering, sensual imagery, and bold, unadulterated embodiment. It doesn't hide behind Metaphor; it wears Moxie like a pageant sash, like a Girl Scouts honor. It sweats through it all, strips it down, swallows it sometimes, spits it out sometimes. It probably stole someone's sweetheart and someone's trophy in Toledo.
I don’t just choreograph dances—I cultivate atmospheres of adventure, spaces where queerness is a portal, not a category; where femininity is ferocious, not fragile; where tradition is a tool to be reforged - hot, bent, sometimes broken then beautifully rebuilt. This work bucks tradition not to take its thunder, but for truth—provocatively, playfully, and with a tongue both reverent and rebellious. My dances are the outcome of my obsession with thrusting reverence and rebellion at one another; shoving simplicity up against sophistication.
This work summons those who yearn in secret, those steeping or stewing, those who crave the reach but have not yet dared the extension. They dance, dream, or drool at the edge of their undoing, drawn in by the pulse, the pull, the low-lit lust of what we tease as the Last Supper. Tethered not by force but by fascination, they are taut with tension, timbre, and tremble—half dare, half devotion. They tease at thresholds, caught between fear and thrill, lured by the frequency of fire. They bind themselves to beat, breath, and the beautiful recklessness of ritual. They show up, they sing, they stay late. And most always, they sleep soundly—late.
