Dear Friends,

To hand off leadership of the Cora Dance Alleghany and Cora Dance Brooklyn schools to Ammara Shafqat and Nikki Assanti, respectively, at the Tribute Reception on October 4, was truly one of the most moving moments of my professional life. I am so full of love, pride, purpose, and eagerness to enter a new chapter of work within this remarkable organization as Director of Professional Company and Mobile Programs and thank you for all Cora has given me for nearly 30 years as Artistic Director.

Below is my speech from the Tribute Reception. It’s impossible to sum up my gratitude, but I did my best (as I always try to do) and remain deeply moved beyond words.

If you came to these events, thank you for sharing this profound moment with me. For those who could not make it, thank you for the many messages of support and love. I could feel you there with me. For everyone, whether there or not, thank you for being part of my life. It’s a good one. I can’t wait for our next chapter together.

Gratefully,
Shannon Hummel
Cora Dance Founder, Director of Professional Company and Mobile Programs

Tribute Reception: Honoring Founder, Shannon Hummel

Saturday, October 4 @ 8:30 pm (Immediately following the performance of because)

PAVE Academy Charter School
732 Henry St
Brooklyn, NY

SHANNON HUMMEL’S SPEECH AS SHE WAS HONORED FOR ESTABLISHING CORA’S RED HOOK, BROOKLYN SCHOOL AND PASSED THE TORCH OF EDUCATIONAL LEADERSHIP TO NEW DIRECTORS, OCTOBER 4, 2025:

Good evening, everyone.

I am honored that this organization—and particularly Nikki Assanti and Ammara Shafqat, the powerful and dedicated new directors of the two schools I founded in NY and VA, along with our staff members, especially Chris Hammett, Kaitlyn Hawkins, Eleanor Crawford, and our Board—have taken the time to recognize my work in Red Hook tonight. Cora’s school helped me raise my child, find my voice, form a chosen family that runs deeper than blood, and live a supremely full and satisfying life of art and purpose that I am profoundly grateful for. The investment of this team to create this event is humbling, and I thank you for it and for the opportunity for me to thank you all—Red Hook community, Cora’s past and current artists, staff, board, and supporters.

Ammara and Nikki will tell you: I’ve been trying to write this speech since February. This night means a lot to me, and I whittled 40 pages and three hours of voice memos down to three pages yesterday… before deciding this is it. So I come to you tonight, as I’ve tried to do with everything I’ve carried out for 18 years, to say: It may not be perfect, Red Hook, but I promise I tried my best.

For the past two decades, the beating heart of my life—as a mother, an artist, a community member, and a warrior for my own artmaking and the artmaking of others, especially children—has been Cora Dance Brooklyn: this scrappy, stubborn, beautiful miracle of a dance school that we all know is far more than a dance school in Red Hook, Brooklyn.

Tonight, I close a chapter on being the head of the school that I founded here in Red Hook 18 years ago—a chapter so profound and embedded in my identity that literally dozens, maybe hundreds, of people still think my name is Cora. The sound of “Hey Cora!” will forever be in my memory. Truly, I suspect that even as you sit here ready to celebrate my work, there are some of you who may not actually know my name.

So let me introduce myself.

My name is Shannon Hummel. I founded Cora Dance, named for my great-grandmother. I come from the mountains of Virginia, where I returned during COVID and where I currently live because my country girl soul needed mountains in this chapter of life to keep my city girl artist heart beating.

I am a mother/godmother of three smart, kind, and mostly wonderful human beings. I am an artist, an educator, and a bad-ass warrior for the rights of everyone to have art, especially children, because you, Red Hook, taught me to be that warrior.

New York City makes nothing easy, and unless you have the deep pockets for the purchase of ease, you have to be tough to stay. Red Hookers—especially its artistic, community, and nonprofit leaders—are a special breed of tender-toughs that I greatly admire. For 18 years, I have been surrounded by these people who do the work of living here while also working to serve others, of making sure people have what they need in spite of the difficulty, often sacrificing themselves to do so. Because someone has to. Because it needs doing. And, by God, they’re going to do it however they must because that’s what’s right. Even if it’s messy or loud or unpopular. They do it because it’s right. That’s a Red Hook leader. To walk beside nonprofit leaders, artists, and community members who are warriors in this way has been more profound and transformational than I can ever say. I am grateful for who you are, what you represent to me, Red Hook, and for all that learning that has allowed me to become who I am.

Many of you have asked why I’m “retiring now.” First, let me say…I would LOVE to imagine a world right now where a 54-year-old choreographer and single mother could retire on the ample pension and benefits she’s earned from a career in modern dance. But sadly, that’s not the time nor the country we live in, nor has it ever been during my entire artistic life, not by a long shot. A dancer’s life is a tough one, but it’s certainly not my next step to retire. I’m recentering.

Cora began solely with the work of my professional company, and to that I return. My choreographic work with my company—the inspiring group of unbelievably talented artists who you saw perform tonight—and bringing their work as far and wide as I can in ways that demonstrate lessons about the power of art to create understanding in communities will be my role as I take off my “head of school” hat to become the Director of Professional Company and Mobile Programs.

Now, I know that there is great tumult when founders suddenly shift away from heading organizations, but fear not. This transition has been quietly, lovingly, and thoughtfully taking place over the last three years as Ammara and Nikki have gradually taken the reins, while programs have continued, hard decisions have been made, and art has been created. With your support of these two incredible leaders, this work will continue. I expect you to support them. To these talented women, I’m not setting down a burden; I am giving a gift—full of possibility, creativity, community, and love… and responsibility. They are ready, and they are brilliant. So know, dancers, families… you will continue to learn from the best at Cora because Ammara and Nikki are there.

For those who say, “There’s no Cora school without Shannon,” I have one word: bullsh**. Our T-shirts don’t say “I am Cora” by accident. We built it together. We carry it together. We have no intention to stop. Cora belongs to all of us—the rewards and the responsibilities. Tonight, as I pass the torch of educational leadership to Ammara and Nikki with pride, with gratitude, and with the knowledge that this next chapter is already being carried out by them as fiercely as I have done, I leave you all with this:

To my professional dancers: I wish I could pay you like the therapists you are. You unpack my soul. And I am beyond blessed and excited to lay down the work of the school so I can spend more time in communion with you.

To my students—especially my alumni: never let anyone tell you dancing and creating together is frivolous. Creating is what brought you here. Creating is what gives life purpose, so go be life-givers for yourselves and others. I will always be your Shan-mom.

To parents: thank you for trusting me—even when you hated me. I get it.

To my sisterhood of ride-or-die warrior mothers—Danielle, Ida, Nahisha, Mesha—and the countless other unnamed warrior mothers of this neighborhood—you are the queens of the universe. Thank you for being in every child’s corner, because every child is your child.

To my own children and godchildren: you are the only thing I love more than this work. I hope what I’ve done and continue to do makes you proud.

To Ammara and Nikki: you got this. You really do.

And to everyone, including myself: You must treasure, resource, and sustain this art-making. You MUST. Not just for Cora, but for every artist in this country. Demand that others do the same. Demand it from your leaders, and demand it from yourselves. Put your back into it. Your money into it. Your labor into it. Because when we lose art, we lose our soul and our humanity. We lose our ability to reinvent ourselves from nothing, to make beauty from dust, to tell our own stories in our own words and our own languages, and to build communities rooted in heart and humanity, not division and fear. From the cave paintings of early humans to Ada Limón’s poem engraved on the space capsule to Europa, to tonight’s performance, it is art, like nothing else, that best holds who and what we are, lasts through the ages, and tells the stories of our time. And only you can make sure that lasts.

Thank you for being here tonight. Please keep being here, ensuring the next generation of dancers, children, and families have access to us—this radical, scrappy, deeply human Cora community. Us. I love you all.

Thank you.

Slideshow photos by Chastity Cortijo, Shannon Hummel, Steven Pisano, Gaia Squarci, and Heather White.

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