Katie Drablos has spent 16 years as a professional dancer, choreographer, and artist in New York City. Her career is full of remarkable achievements, but beyond that, Drablos is a profoundly impactful teacher. Known for her warmth, generosity, and rare ability to make dancers feel seen, she creates safe, joyful spaces where they can flourish freely.
Originally from Dallas, Texas, Drablos discovered her love of teaching at a young age. After graduating from Southern Methodist University, she auditioned for the Rockettes on a whim, booked the job, and moved to New York at 22. Since then, she has performed in numerous productions, collaborated with choreographers, including Andy Blankenbuehler, and taught at studios around the world, in addition to leading regular classes at Steps on Broadway.
Dance Teacher chatted with Drablos to hear more about her life and the lessons she’s learned throughout her dance journey.
On Teaching
“I think I was born with a deep love for moving and guiding others to move, be free, and express themselves. It’s a gift—I mean, that’s a cliché word—but it is a gift to be in someone’s life and pull that deep goodness out of them. To look into someone’s eyes and be with them as they realize their potential for greatness, and see them leave the studio with their chins a little higher.”
On Career Trajectory
“Freelancing is a continuous struggle, but you have to trust that more work will come and that your artistic voice is enough. You can let some things go, and another door will open that might challenge you more. Living in New York from age 22 to now, 38, I can see how one thing led to another.
“Some jobs outside the industry give you freedom to create work that won’t make a ton of money but will fulfill deep artistic passions. If that’s where your career goes for a while, it’s still just as successful as something fancy on paper.
“My proudest achievements aren’t at the top of my resumé. They can’t always be put into words. That’s why I love teaching—those moments in shared communion, moving together, watching people experience freedom. If I can cultivate a room where that happens and release suffering for a moment, that matters more to me.”
On Fighting Cancer
“I went through cancer in 2021, and it changed everything. One thing I’ve taken from it is practicing more boldness in asking for things and doing things, because we don’t know what’s coming.
“On April 1, 2021—my 34th birthday—I was a week out of cancer surgery and found out it was stage 4. That day, I said to my mom, ‘Next year, when I’m alive, I’m going to throw a big party and blow it out wedding-style.’
“But in winter 2022, when I finished treatments and was getting back to teaching, I realized I didn’t want a party. I told my mom, ‘I want to put on a show on my birthday called 35: a celebration of being alive. I had always wanted to create my own show but was too scared. With stage 4 tongue cancer, [I realized] the time was now. I broadened myself to work with other artists in New York and learned so much through those collaborations.
“On April 2, 2021, my mentee died. She was 24 and also a dancer. After that, I thought a lot about what it means to be a survivor. There’s pride in it, and that’s important, but it’s also incredibly random. My mentee tried just as hard to beat cancer. I’m not alive because I fought harder or was better at fighting cancer. I went through dark times in solitude thinking about it.
“Dance was medicine (it’s how I’ve stayed sane the last four and a half years), a way to nonverbally express deep emotions. I put on two more shows, in 2022 and 2023, each different and reflecting where I was in that moment. Creating those shows were the best days of my life—and yet they happened because of cancer. It’s still a profound thing to swallow. I don’t know that I’ll ever fully swallow it, because I wouldn’t wish cancer on anyone. But the joy I felt those days was heightened by the sorrow I felt at other times. In the end, I gained freedom.”
On Teaching to Live Music
“There’s nothing better than dancing to live music. My friend, Miriam Ali, first sang Landslide in class because I had a combo to it. From there, we did about 10 different songs together, and it kept expanding to other artists. Now it feels like the sky’s the limit. I’m very open to asking: What’s the worst that can happen if someone says no?
“My advice is the same: Ask. Don’t be afraid of no. If one person says no, there are many more who will say yes. I’ve fallen in love with live music, being in rooms with these amazingly talented people and watching them make art. I’m in awe. I stand there and can’t believe this is my life. It feels good bringing people together.”