Joy Womack is speaking to me in a Zoom window as she furiously threads a pair of ballet shoes. “It takes three hours to prepare one pair of shoes,” she says apologetically. “And we go through four pairs a week. So if you’re not sewing, you’re out of shoes.”

At 28, Womack has already gone through thousands of ballet shoes. She was born one of nine children to a middle-class family in Beverly Hills; until 12 she lived in Santa Monica, then moved with her family to Austin, Texas, where her mother enrolled her in a dance school that specializes in the Vaganova ballet technique. That led to a scholarship at the Kirov Academy of Ballet in Washington, D.C., which led her to apply to the Bolshoi school in Moscow, where she was accepted.

Womack moved to Moscow at 15, graduated top of her class and was accepted into the Bolshoi Company — unheard of for a non-Russian dancer, much less an American. A series of scandals at the Bolshoi led her to quit that company and join the state Kremlin Ballet, based out of the actual Kremlin building in Red Square.

If it all sounds like something out of a movie, it is, as Womack’s life has already served as the basis for a 2021 documentary, Joy Womack: The White Swan, as well as an upcoming biopic called Joika starring Talia Ryder as Womack and Diane Kruger as her instructor Tatiyana Volkova.

Filming on Joika, for which Womack served as choreographer and consultant, wrapped in Warsaw almost hours before Russia launched its assault on Ukraine. The war has turned Womack into something of a ballet refugee, unable to return to Russia for having spoken out against the war, and without a company to call her own.

On Nov. 12, she will perform at Segrestrom Center for the Arts in Reunited in Dance, organized by British-born Xander Parish, former principal dancer at St. Petersburg’s Mariinsky Ballet, and featuring an all-star company of international dancers impacted by the war in Ukraine.

Womack took a break from an intensive rehearsal schedule for a fascinating conversation with The Hollywood Reporter about dance and diplomacy amid the horrors of war.

Had they never taken an American at the Bolshoi before?

There was an American woman — she was half-American, half-Russian in the 1960s. She grew up in the Soviet Union. That’s what I’ve been told. But in the new Russian Federation, there had never been an American woman in the company before.

I assume you had to work with translators?

No, I had to learn Russian. I learned Russian at school, so I speak fluent Russian.

So on top of all your ballet commitments, you had to learn how to speak Russian?

My teacher said she was going to throw me out of the class if I didn’t learn Russian in three months. So I learned Russian. I would get up at five in the morning and practice my Russian. I learned it super quickly.

And how are you treated as an American?

I mean, honestly, that’s one of the things that I love about Russia. Yes, I was the American girl, but I feel like I earned my stripes, if you know what I mean. By the end of my time in Russia, I was treated pretty much like everybody. I ended up getting my Russian citizenship last year. So I think they saw that. They appreciated that I had a huge love for their culture and love for their school, and love for their tradition. I wanted to be Russian after I was there for a year. I wanted so badly just to be like them.

Were you performing for Putin and all his officers?

Yes.

What’s that like?

It was a big honor. I mean, this is before [the war]. I was really proud to be part of diplomacy and the fact that Russia takes a huge pride in their classical ballet. And so they fund it well, and the dancers have great opportunities, and we are ambassadors for arts and culture. I believe that arts, culture and dance is an organic bridge between nations, and the way that we should do diplomacy. I don’t think that we should involve politics inside of our diplomatic arts policy. And so being an American, working for the Kremlin, I thought, was a natural reflection of how we create relationships between countries.

So for me, it was a big honor. When I was 17, I got to represent the Bolshoi school when they came to the Kennedy Center and I danced as a soloist. I was the best soloist in that production. And I felt like that was a huge statement. I was so proud to represent Bolshoi Academy as an American. And then when I would go on tour with the Kremlin Ballet, or when I would dance, I felt part of it. Where, I’m sure you can ask Xander Parish or any one of the dancers here. We were really proud to be part of that tradition.

And it’s really sad what’s happening these days because more and more we’re becoming polarized in spaces that were never polarized before. And sadly, it is true the Russian government does fund the arts there. So I personally didn’t feel comfortable remaining in Russia and receiving a government salary when I wasn’t OK with what was happening.

And then what about on the American end? Did you ever get any suspicions from, I don’t know, the CIA that you might be a spy or something?

I can’t comment on that, but I do know that it was a very weird place to be. I can’t comment on that, but I think people have this idea of “big bad Russia.” I understand why now, but before, I feel like I lived in a golden era in Russia where it was becoming more and more international, and people were having a career dancing. Because in the United States, we don’t have the funding for arts like we did in Russia. We were literally dancing a different ballet every night. You can’t do that in the United States. You have a block of performances and then everybody rehearses for three months. And in Russia, my season would go from September to July and then I’d have a paid vacation for a month. In the U.S. you have to go on unemployment when you’re not working as an artist. We have very far to come as a nation in the U.S. if we want to talk about cultural diplomacy or cultural superiority. We have no cultural support to speak of. The National Endowment for the Arts is $250 million.

Meanwhile, we’re giving $40 billion of aid to Ukrainians, which that’s awesome, we have to give that aid. But why can’t we support our own arts programs in the United States? Why are dancers who are in the United States feeling like they have to go overseas to get health care, to have support, to be able to have a career, to be respected? I will not tell you how many times in my life I’ve been asked by my American family, “When am I going to get a real job?” Whereas in Russia, I’m respected. I was. Now I’m persona non grata.

You must have been quite a celebrity there for being the only American in the Bolshoi, and you were dancing leads in things like Swan Lake.

I feel like there was a notoriety around my name. I don’t know if I was a celebrity, but I do feel like I always had work, and I could perform where I wanted. And certainly later I felt like I had the ability to choose my projects, which was nice. I think especially since the start of the war, I’ve kind of mourned that in some way. I was going a certain way. I was kind of the token American in some ways. And I felt like I was opening the door for Russia to be a space that was more popular amongst foreigners. So overnight that whole platform disappeared. And I didn’t feel comfortable. I know there’s several of my friends who I personally helped them find their first jobs in Russia who are still there.

And it breaks my heart. There’s a moment where there’s a line in the sand. I know that a lot of the dancers that have decided to stay, but it’s because they have no other option. They can’t find employment in the West because it’s extremely competitive and very, very difficult. Doesn’t matter how great of a dancer you are, there’re no contracts. Companies in the West can’t take you. Whereas in Russia, there’s a company in every city, and performances, and there’s an audience, and the government supports the arts. So maybe you’re not making a huge salary, but you can make a living dancing in Russia.

You mentioned that you are persona non grata now. What do you mean by that?

Because I’ve made the statements that I have. And by leaving Russia, if I ever went back, I would have to stay. And I would have to probably say some things — that I agree with the position of the Russian government, etc. And that’s very sad to me. Because I have always stood for the fact that ballet can be diplomacy for the world. So I would prefer not to focus on the political, if you don’t mind. I really don’t want it to be about that. I know that maybe that’s the buzz thing right now, but I feel like it can really be something that burns bridges down the road.

Maybe I’ve already lit the fire behind myself, but I really love the people that I worked with. And I think that there’s this naive idea we have as Americans that like, “Oh, well, if we punish them, they’ll rise up.” But no, there’s no possibility for that. Russians will live. They have no choice. They have to be OK with the government that they have because they don’t have any power. So to penalize the people for something that somebody does in the leadership is not fair for the regular man there. And I have the dearest family friends that I have experienced nothing but kindness from, ordinary people that are in Russia who love me, who’ve given me space.

For example, my friends in Astrakhan, they literally have all of my stuff. They’ve not asked for a dime to take care of my things when we left. It’s so easy to demonize a people group and not understand where they’re coming from. Most of the people I know are not OK with the fact that a war is going on, but they can’t say that loud. Or they’ve been brainwashed by what they watch.

And we certainly are not immune from that over here, either.

I mean, we just had Election Day. Think about how polarized the United States is. Those who live in glass houses should not throw stones. We’re all human.

Have you been vocal at all about your position on the war?

Very much so. I worked in the South of France after I left Russia. I was super afraid to make any statements because I was afraid for my friends. And then I realized that I couldn’t stay silent. So I released a statement on my social media officially, because I felt like it was the right thing to do before starting in another place. And I received so much backlash from friends and from people that I worked with. And on the other hand, I received a lot of support. So I do feel like I have to follow my conscience and my conviction. I always have. In my career I always felt like I have to follow what my heart says is to be true, even if that closes doors in front of me.

But at least at the end of the day, I can have an honest conscience. I have suffered in my career because of that. Because people don’t want somebody who speaks their mind or is an advocate for themselves, especially in the dance industry. They want somebody who’s beautiful and does what the company says. They don’t want somebody who speaks out or exposes things. So I think I’ve kind of had that branded onto me ever since I spoke about what was going on in the Bolshoi in 2013. So I’ve had to navigate that and make peace with the fact that I’ve lost out on a lot of opportunity. But at what cost comes celebrity, at what cost comes notoriety? I’m not chasing the fame. I love what I do, I love the art, but I don’t want to be given opportunity because I’ve become complacent with something that compromises my morals.

Let’s talk about Joika a bit, because it sounds really cool. Diane Kruger’s in it. And it’s your life story. How did that come together?

It’s kind of a crazy ride. There was a New York Times article about me when I moved over to the Bolshoi. I think it was my first or my second year in the school. And a writer found that plot really interesting and they kind of wrote a treatment and then it got shopped around Hollywood. I grew up in L.A., so everybody around me was trying to get famous and be in a movie and I could have cared less. So I literally thought that people were high on crack trying to make a movie about my life. That’s never going to happen. And even to this day when I talk with James [Napier Robertson], who’s the director, I tell him I’ll believe it when I’m sitting at the premiere.

The only thing that I asked when James said that it was happening was like, “Look, I just want the dance to be good in it.” I want ballet to have its day. We had Black Swan. I think that the only way to repopularize the art form in the United States is to have more things like that. So that’s the reason I said yes to the project is because I want there to be more movies about ballet in the limelight.

And you wrapped at the very last possible minute before war broke out?

I think if we had pushed the shoot by a week, we would have been stuck. It was filming in Poland. But the problem is, when the war started, refugees started to pour into Warsaw. So all of the hotels were being filled up with refugees. There was nowhere to stay. The movie company, they’re like, “Well, you can’t go back to Russia. Literally they can’t get you flights back in.” Then we kind of were gypsies around Europe.

For two months I tried finding a job. I worked temporarily in the South of France, but I had never faced as much rejection in my life as I faced after the war. I auditioned for over 100 different places and received rejection from each one of them.

So what did you do?

I holed up in a tiny apartment in Paris and I just trained every single day. And I did as many auditions as I could and kept getting no’s. And then I passed the Paris Opera audition and I just waited for an answer. I’m not allowed to talk about it yet. I can talk about it in January. Then I went back to the States and started to get a ton of invitations to perform and collaborate.

So you’re kind of a ballet refugee?

Yeah, well, which is what Reunited in Dance is. Xander gave us a place to work and an opportunity to perform for the audience again, which is really kind. My family’s flying in for the performance, which is really exciting because I think I’ve performed for them a handful of times in my life. They’ve rarely gotten to see me actually perform because I spent the bulk of my career in Russia, and it’s kind of hard to get to Russia. 

I must say, I find you fascinating. Not just your life story, but your point of view.

We need to remember that we need to love and have compassion for our fellow man. And it’s so easy to demonize another person. But we’re just like people who throw bombs if we use our words in a way that excludes another people. So the only thing we can do is do the best we can every day. Find something that you love and hope that thing that you love can touch other people. And that’s the way we make our world a better place.