Paula Abdul’s “Damn Hard, Strong Dancers”: Power, Gender, and Dance
Paula Abdul made this striking statement about her choreography during a late 1980s interview. She was experiencing unprecedented success as both a choreographer and pop star at this time. Abdul actively choreographed for major music videos and live performances. Simultaneously, she launched her solo recording career. Her 1989 debut album “Forever Your Girl” became massively successful. The quote emerged from discussions about her distinctive choreographic style. It demanded explosive energy, precise technical execution, and almost athletic intensity. Abdul articulated something evident to anyone watching her work: her choreography defied the softer, more traditionally feminine aesthetic that had dominated 1980s pop music videos. Instead, she created movement vocabularies requiring the physical stamina and muscular control typically associated with male dancers. She built her career in an industry that often relegated women to more decorative roles.
The Origin of This Bold Statement
To understand this quote’s significance, one must appreciate Paula Abdul’s unique position in entertainment history. Paula Julie Abdul was born in 1962 in Los Angeles. She grew up in a household celebrating both dance and music. Her father directed films and her mother was an interior designer and former ballet dancer. This creative environment nurtured her multifaceted talents from an early age. Abdul began studying dance at age five. She became a serious student of jazz, ballet, and contemporary dance. Unlike many dancers who followed traditional paths through prestigious ballet companies or modern dance troupes, Abdul’s career took an entrepreneurial turn. She began working as a choreographer for various artists while still in her twenties. This was remarkable because music video choreography in the 1980s was male-dominated. Michael Peters choreographed Michael Jackson’s iconic videos. Kenny Ortega dominated the field.
By the time Abdul made her statement about demanding choreography, she had already distinguished herself. She was one of the few female choreographers breaking through in an industry that historically treated dance as either a supportive theatrical element or a vehicle for displaying female backup dancers’ bodies. Abdul’s work with The Jacksons and Janet Jackson demonstrated that choreography could be a primary creative force. It shaped how audiences experienced pop music visually. Her choreographic choices featured sharp, angular movements combined with smooth isolations. She drew from jazz and contemporary techniques while incorporating street-style elements. These elements later influenced hip-hop dance aesthetics. The difficulty of her choreography wasn’t incidental—it was intentional. By creating steps requiring significant technical ability and physical strength, she positioned dance as an art form demanding respect and serious skill development. It was no longer ornamental or secondary to music.
My choreography suits men very well, and the women who can do it are damn hard, strong dancers
A lesser-known aspect of Paula Abdul’s career involves her transition from choreographer to recording artist. This transition was far from inevitable or obvious at the time. She released her debut single “Straight Up” in 1988. Many in the industry were skeptical that a choreographer could successfully become a performer. The music industry had relatively few examples of successful dancer-to-pop-star transformations. Gender dynamics made Abdul’s path even more uncertain. Yet “Forever Your Girl” became one of the best-selling debut albums of all time. It spawned multiple number-one hits.
Abdul became a bona fide pop superstar. Her success as a recording artist didn’t diminish her choreography credibility. Rather, it enhanced it. When she appeared in her own music videos, audiences saw firsthand that she could execute her demanding choreography. This unified vision of artistry was relatively novel. Being both creator and performer helped establish her as an auteur. The industry typically separated these roles.
The quote itself has resonated through decades. It addresses fundamental questions about gender, strength, and artistry that remain relevant today. When Abdul stated that her choreography “suits men very well,” she was making a political point disguised as an observation. She acknowledged that her work operated outside traditional gender expectations for dance. It was powerful, demanding, and didn’t apologize for requiring strength. By noting that “women who can do it are damn hard, strong dancers,” she simultaneously celebrated women meeting these standards. She also implicitly critiqued the notion that women dancers should be limited to softer or more ethereal movement qualities. In essence, Abdul advocated for an expansion of what women’s bodies were permitted to do in popular culture. She used her own choreographic demands as the vehicle for this argument.
Women who can do it are damn hard, strong dancers
Various contexts have employed and reinterpreted this quote over the years. Conversations around female empowerment and representation in dance have evolved considerably. Dancers and choreographers working in contemporary dance, hip-hop, and commercial styles have cited Abdul’s work. They present it as evidence that women need not conform to gendered expectations about movement quality. Critics and scholars have used the quote in discussions about the “male gaze” in choreography and performance. They reference it to understand how some female artists deliberately create work that resists passive consumption. Social media has circulated the quote among dance communities. It often appears alongside clips of Abdul’s iconic choreography as proof of her prescient understanding of what dance could be and do.
What makes this quote resonate in everyday life is its broader applicability beyond the dance world. Abdul’s statement is fundamentally about refusing to be limited by expectations attached to one’s identity.