We were lucky to catch up with Billy Hawkains recently and have shared our conversation below.

Billy, appreciate you joining us today. We’d love to hear about when you first realized that you wanted to pursue a creative path professionally.

Junior or senior year of undergrad, so 2016 or 2017. After finishing a workout, a friend and I were stopped by our professor, Abigail Yager, who asked if we were going to see A.I.M by Kyle Abraham perform “Pavement” at the UNCG Auditorium. (She arranged the trip for students in the department to attend the show). We explained that we couldn’t afford the seven-dollar student tickets, and without hesitation, she encouraged us onto the bus with the other students and covered our tickets herself. That unexpected act opened the door to an experience that changed everything for me. Watching “Pavement”—the way the movement flowed through the dancers, the honesty and power of their physicality, and seeing so many Black dancers embodying such complexity and grace—was deeply moving. I felt an immediate sense of connection and possibility. In that moment, I realized that dance could be a living, expressive force through which I could contribute and create meaning. Nearly a decade later, that experience continues to shape my path as a performer, choreographer, teacher, and mentor.

Billy, before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?

I’m a Detroit-born dance artist, educator, and choreographer, currently based in Atlanta, GA. I’ve earned a BFA and MFA in Dance, performed across the U.S. and internationally, taught in university settings, and built a body of work that explores how we navigate race, identity, and liberation through the physical body.

Right now, I’m producing a new screendance work through Dance Canvas’ “On Film” program, traveling the country to host masterclasses in Safety Release and dance improvisation, and slowly working my way through James Baldwin’s literary archive and interviews—his work continues to remind me how necessary it is to love deeply, speak truthfully, and create bravely. I’m also loving “Baldwin: A Love Story” by Nicholas Boggs and listening to a lot of John Coltrane lately—it all feels like part of the same archive of Black brilliance and resistance that continues to guide my artistry. I’m always mentoring emerging choreographers, performing, or developing work through my project-based company, The III Collective—but I’m also learning to slow down, making space to exist, to breathe, and remembering that I don’t always have to be “doing.”

We’d love to hear a story of resilience from your journey.

A moment that really tested—and ultimately revealed—my resilience happened during my parents’ 30th wedding anniversary dinner (June 2025). I had been quietly carrying intense anxiety for months, feeling crushed by so, so much. But I hadn’t told anyone. Whenever someone asked how I was doing, I’d just say, “I’m good.” I was far from it. After excusing myself from the table, I walked to the bathroom, completely unaware that a panic attack was about to hit. The anxious thoughts I’d been suppressing all came flooding in—my chest tightened, my breathing quickened, my vision began to blur—and then everything went dark as I collapsed on the bathroom floor. I felt completely exposed and ashamed. And yet, that night became a turning point. I realized that it’s not about having everything together or always performing strength—it’s about allowing yourself to be honest, to fall apart, and to rebuild with intention. Since then, I’ve been more committed to showing up truthfully—for myself, for my work, and for the people around me. Some days that means pushing through challenges; other days it means giving myself permission to rest and be vulnerable. For me, resilience is less about endurance and more about authenticity—the courage to keep showing up as I am, one day at a time. I will forever be incredibly grateful for my family who surrounded me with nothing but love and support that night. I love you all so much!

Is there a particular goal or mission driving your creative journey?

I see my work as a form of ministry. Having been raised in the Black Baptist church, and still rooted in that community today, my creative practice is profoundly shaped by faith, spirit, and a desire for transformation. My mission is to create work that heals, liberates, and invites reflection—work that speaks to the present moment yet endures beyond it. I’m less concerned with applause or recognition and more focused on what happens within those who experience my work. Whether through live performance, film, writing, or even as a student in one of my classes, my hope is that what I create becomes a space for people to feel seen, restored, and connected to something larger than themselves.

Contact Info:

• Instagram: @iambillyjhawkains

Image Credits

Christiana McLeod Horn (B&W studio image)