Since ballet’s inception centuries ago, a career in the art form has been reserved for a rarified breed of human beings. You had to have long limbs and specific body proportions, be unusually flexible and unnaturally thin, and project an aura of fragility while performing feats requiring enormous strength. You had to have the stamina to withstand punishing rehearsal and performance schedules; the frugality to manage on a salary at the bottom of the pay scale and the mental rigor to be able to absorb constant critique, subjective casting and, in some cases, outright abuse.

Oh, and for most of that time and with rare exceptions, you had to be white.

In more instances than the ballet world would like known, these demands have led to eating disorders, addictions, mental health breakdowns and even suicidality. And the door was simply closed right out of the gate for anyone whose neurodivergences — autism, ADHD, or others conditions — interfered with their training or presentation.

So it is particularly unusual — and refreshing — to watch dancers of the Azara Ballet, a Sarasota company founded in 2022 by dancers Kate and Martin Flowers, rehearsing for their upcoming season-finale performances March 20 and 21 at the Riverview Performing Arts Center.

There are dancers taller, shorter and heavier than you might be used to seeing in a ballet company. There is a range of ethnicities and skin tones. A few are in leotards, but most are in whatever is comfortable and movement-friendly. They are gay and straight, single and married; two are non-binary. Eleven of the 12 full-time dancers (there are 14 total) have neuro-divergences, ranging from autism to attention deficit disorder, including Flowers and her husband, Martin (who took her last name when they married last year), both diagnosed well into adulthood. Several have “fidgets” (hand toys that serve as a calming device) in their dance bags and all know they will not only be excused but supported if they’re having a particularly bad mental health day.

“I think there’s a misunderstanding that the high level it takes to be a professional dancer requires certain things,” says the company’s new artistic director, Joshua Stayton. “I think we’re finding a balance of still working hard and being better than yesterday, but having the grace to know you sometimes can take a few steps back before you go forward again.”

There are just two pieces on the upcoming program, and both are “queer-focused,” in Kate Flowers’ words. (The company website proclaims it “proudly an LGBTQ+ inclusive performance.”) “Four Seasons,” choreographed by Stayton, explores the arc of a young man’s life stages as it unfolds alongside the cycles of nature (based on Martin Flowers’ autobiography); the other, “The Woman in White,” choreographed by Martin Flowers, is an historical, psychological study of “otherness” and sexual identity, loosely based on the life of the poet Emily Dickinson.

Embracing inclusivity in gender and sexual orientation is another facet of Azara’s aesthetic and one that puts them at odds with the current anti-diversity, “anti-woke” political climate that exists nationally and particularly in Florida. That climate has “certainly gotten more intense” since the last time the company did a queer-focused piece in the spring of 2024, Kate Flowers says, but it has not deterred her commitment to making the dance stage inclusive.

“We want to be a voice that says, not only is this OK, it is just love,” she says. “That’s a little scary to do in this climate, but if we can’t get funded for who we are, then we’d rather not exist.”

This is the vision the couple had in mind when they started Azara with just one volunteer dancer and one donor (none other than Kate herself, a former social media influencer). Martin, who is a dancer and choreographer with the company, was diagnosed with autism as an adult and Kate, who serves as associate artistic director, trained for a ballet career from early childhood, but left the field for more than a decade after its pressures derailed her physical and mental health. So their commitment comes from within.

The ballet’s website unequivocally states: “At Azara, we wholeheartedly embrace the celebration of body positivity and the kaleidoscope of individuality. Within the ballet world we are radiating a resolute commitment to breaking new ground as trailblazers for representation and inclusivity.”

Of course, imagining such a novel approach to a ballet company is one thing; making it a reality is another. Yet, in its short existence, Azara has found an enthusiastic audience and sufficient financial support from donors to expand its numbers and its choreographic ambitions each season. The vast social media audience of one of its dancers, Mckenzie Davis, doesn’t hurt, nor did a feature article in The New York Times at the beginning of 2025, both of which have resulted in a barrage of requests to audition from dancers looking for a happier home.

In December the company took another big step toward legitimacy, bringing in Stayton as its first artistic director. He previously danced with Tulsa Ballet, Cincinnati Ballet and (for one season in 2016) The Sarasota Ballet and has known Kate Flowers since the age of 9, when “she was Clara to my Fritz” in a childhood production of The Nutcracker. A combination of the opportunity to lead this ground-breaking company, his gift for choreography and “the aches and pains of my body,” prompted Stayton, to give up performing and accept the role.

“My initial reaction was pride,” said Stayton, 36. “I saw a space that Kate was trying to cultivate and it’s been phenomenal watching what was a simple melody turn into a triumphant symphony. Now the only question is, will it grow with the size of Azara or will it influence other existing organizations as they see the work, feedback and results we’re getting?”

What about Azara is different than what he, and those dancers who’ve come from other companies, have experienced elsewhere? First and foremost, says Stayton, is “open communication.” Whether it’s about the repertoire, casting, or someone having a bad day, “If there is an issue, we don’t let it fester on either side.” With so many neurodivergent dancers there is an understanding and sensitivity between them that might not be found elsewhere. Moreover, the dancers train and rehearse just four days a week, for 4 ½ hours each day, leaving them time not only for other jobs or schooling, but also for their bodies to rest and recover.

Though there are obvious physical differences amongst the Azara dancers, they all have “a foundational level of ability,” says Stayton, who means there has been no sacrifice in ability in order to achieve diversity. What the director looks for beyond that is an “enthusiasm and energy.”

“I’m looking for passion and character,” he said. “I’d rather have someone in the audition asking a thousand questions as opposed to being shy in the back. I’m looking for not ‘I’m here, look at me!’ but ‘Look at me because I’m here.’”

Stayton himself does not fit the stereotype of the tyrannical and bullying artistic director portrayed in so many dance films and shows. Though his physique is that of a traditional male danseur and he did not encounter body discrimination in his own career, he is committed to contributing to the zeitgeist of the company by allowing the dancers “the space to be themselves.”

“When I walk into the studio, I don’t want to be the power that dims the lights, I want to be there as a battery for everyone,” he says. “Yes, I’m their boss, but I don’t want to feel superior because of my title. My title is just my experience. In my opinion, an artistic director is a position of service, not self promotion.”

When dancer Avery Held, who also serves as the company’s operations and development director, auditioned to join Azara for its first full season in 2023, she didn’t know anything about its founders’ vision. She’d previously danced with a company in Michigan and another in Ohio, where she met Martin Flowers and encountered frequent admonishments to “lose weight or you don’t perform.”

“Probably the No. 1 question I’m asked is, ‘Oh, you’re a dancer, do they watch what you eat?” says Held, who is fit but not frail. “Even the general public has the idea you have to look a certain way to be a dancer. To be able to say, ‘That’s really old school thinking’ is a relief.”

As for the LGBTQ aspect of the company, Held, who is straight but who was raised by “two motherly characters,” she feels it benefits everyone because “we’re all in an environment where, when the music starts, we can be ourselves.”

“I’m only 25, but I know the life of a dancer doesn’t stretch long and I think I’ve found my place to call home,” said Held, who recently diagnosed her own ADHD symptoms. “We all collectively want to keep this trajectory moving up.”

Rianna Talento joined Azara last September, following stints with three other companies where her ADHD and anxiety disorder often led to her feeling “bullied by my bosses" for what they saw as her “weaknesses.”

“Sometimes my attention can get sidetracked,” Talento admits. “I’m not doing it intentionally, but people at the front of the room would assume certain things about the type of employee I was because of it. They would compliment me in class and then tell me behind closed doors I was the weakest link in the company and I’d be ‘on the chopping block’ if I didn’t meet their expectations. So I was working in fear.”

In a valiant effort to respond to her employer’s demands about her pelvis “which they said was always out of alignment,” Talento obsessively trained in Pilates and denied herself adequate food in an effort to achieve the desired look. That led to injury and exacerbated the depression she was prone to.

Her experience at Azara, which she initially thought “would just be a transition company for me,” has been career-altering.

“I am the happiest, calmest and least anxious I’ve ever been,” she say. “There’s never been more color in my life and my mental health has truly never been better. At this point, I can’t imagine going to another company.”

Her colleague, Mckenzie Davis, who has five million followers on Tik Tok, also helped her get started as a content creator on social media, which has put her be in a better place financially and also allows her to advocate for Azara’s principles to infiltrate the ballet world.

“We’re very outspoken about the toxic ballet culture and it’s heartwarming to see people commenting about Azara and saying they hope to join a company like Azara some day. I like giving people some hope that you don’t have to be with a big company and be miserable.”

Nevertheless, a ballet culture and conformity that has existed for centuries is not easily transformed — and some would simply prefer that it never will be. Already, Azara’s inclusive stance has limited its ability to receive governmental grants, as well as from some private foundations. Though it enjoyed unexpectedly generous financial support in its first two years, Kate Flowers admits that donations are currently “the slowest we’ve had since our launch.”

So whether its impact will spread in widening circles or whether the company will struggle to continue once the novelty factor of its approach has worn off, remains to be seen. Either way, Flowers says, “it has exceeded my wildest dreams.”

“Is it sustainable? I hope so,” she says. “I hope so for the sake of the dance world, for the sake of the dancers and for the sake of the audiences. I still think we do something quite unique and I think it’s refreshing and needed, from any aspect you look at it. I hope other people will continue to see that and want to support it too.”

“Seasons,” Azara Ballet’s season finale, featuring “Four Seasons” by Joshua Stayton and “The Woman in White,” by Martin Flowers. March 20-21 at the Riverview Performing Arts Center, 1 Ram Way. $40. azaraballet.org