Published: Feb. 24, 2026
After stepping away from dance in her early twenties, Malynn Robinson never expected to return—let alone perform again, commit to intensive training, or dance en pointe. More than a decade later, the Bakersfield-based dancer is doing all three, juggling nine classes a week and performing with Kern’s pre-professional ballet company, Bakersfield City Ballet. In this February Love Letters to Kern Q&A, Robinson reflects on coming back to dance as an adult, the injuries and breakthroughs that came with it, and discovering that Kern County offered the space to begin again.
Can you share a little about where you’re from and what brought you here if you’re not from Bakersfield originally?
I’m a military brat—my mom is Navy—so I grew up all over California, moving every four years. Before Bakersfield, I usually say I’m from Murrieta because it’s the longest place we lived. I met my now ex-husband there, and he’s the reason I ended up in Bakersfield. I’ve been here about 13 years now, and at this point, I do say I’m from Bakersfield because it’s the longest place I’ve lived.
When people ask who you are today, how do you answer that?
That’s a really hard question for me. I feel like I’m just an average person. I like video games. I have two dogs. But when I really think about it—how I ended up here, what I do, what I’ve done—everything comes back to dance. That’s where my story lives.
How did dance first enter your life?
I started ballet when I was five and hated it. I swore it off for all eternity and said I would never touch ballet again. In middle school, a friend asked me to try hip hop, and I agreed as long as it wasn’t ballet. It was fun but during class, I couldn’t stop watching the dancers in the studio over, where there were all these jazz dancers—leaping through the air, doing all these turns—and I was completely blown away. They looked like they were flying and I wanted to fly too. I knew immediately I wanted to do that. My parents signed me up the next year, and I stuck with it for a decade.
At what point did dance fall away?
It breaks my heart whenever I think about it, but it was an accumulation of many things. Ultimately it was to punish myself. I had very horrible coping mechanisms as a child. I felt the destruction around me was an inherent character flaw. [I felt] I was not meant to have nice things in life, so then this dance must go. Despite how deeply passionate I was about dance and proving you can start late and still go far, I didn’t have the support from my family or friends. It was a constant argument and battle just to be able to do the bare minimum. It was exhausting. As a minority, education and getting a job that paid well was pushed over pursuing a career in the arts. It felt like I didn’t have a say in the direction or decisions in my life.
The major I declared had become heavily impacted and it kept getting worse year after year. It was getting harder to get into classes and maintain that full-time student status. My parents were going through a divorce, I was losing friends left and right. I applied to 33 different jobs in the Murrieta [and] Temecula area and never received a callback… I couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t have the stamina to keep fighting and pushing through so I gave up.
Tell us more about what brought you to Bakersfield
In the midst of the chaos, I met this boy… my now ex-husband… from Bakersfield. He asked me to join him when he moved back to Bakersfield. I was a bit hesitant, but the transfer between the schools was seamless, my major wasn’t impacted and I would get through it faster. I applied to only one job and heard back almost immediately. It felt like too many things were lining up to be a coincidence. I felt Bakersfield is where I was meant to be and if dance was to be in my life it would find its way back to me. I didn’t dance at all for ten years.
Before you left, you were dancing professionally. Can you tell us about that?
It was mainly jazz, modern, and contemporary. I ended up with a small contemporary dance company called Alias Movement and danced professionally for about two years. Right before I quit, they told us we needed ballet at least once a week to clean up our lines. And that’s when my teachers said something I never expected—that I was strong enough to go en pointe. The thing is, I broke my ankle in fifth grade, and the doctor told me I couldn’t do pointe. And I was like, I don’t even like ballet, it’s not going to bother me. So to be at that level years later and hear, ‘Actually, you can do this,’ it was like, oh, I’m not rejected because of a broken ankle… But then I stepped away and it was like a missed opportunity.
Malynn Robinson in modern dance class
What sparked your return as an adult?
I was going through a lot—with work, with my now ex-husband. I lost myself so much trying to appease everyone around me that I just lost sight of who I was. As I started doing some internal healing work, dance just kept coming back up. Eventually, I decided I was done with my ex, and I searched for adult dance classes in Bakersfield. That’s when Civic Dance Center popped up. What’s wild is I’d lived here for 10 years and never noticed it. I got off that [Coffee Road] exit almost every other day. I never once saw [Civic]. It felt meant to be.
What was it like walking back into a studio after ten years away?
It was shocking. I wasn’t sedentary during those ten years, but I wasn’t very active either. Coming back, I realized how much my body had, I want to say, deteriorated. I was so stiff, so weak in so many areas. I did not hop back into it the way I was expecting, and that was very depressing. The first year and a half was a lot of mental work—really hard to get out of my head. Like, okay, you’re not where you were then. But that’s okay. I had to learn to stop beating myself up about it.
You were famously anti-ballet. What changed?
When I started back, I really wanted a jazz class. But with adults, it’s always ballet. Every studio—if you want to start, it’s going to be ballet. And I think that’s part of why I didn’t want to come back for so long. [But] I just really want to get back in the door and start moving again. So I took ballet and hip hop, and somebody at the counter said, take adult tap too. So I did. And then something shifted. Ballet was actually fun.
Then in early 2024, Christine, our teacher, came into class and said, ‘I had a dream about the adults doing pointe, I’m going to get you guys en pointe.’ And the door opened up again. It was too much of a coincidence. I’d heard those words a decade ago, right before I quit. I was like… ‘I think I’m supposed to be doing ballet.’ Once I got into pointe shoes, [I realized] I might not love ballet, but I love pointe. I will do ballet for pointe.
What did performing again as an adult feel like?
When I was a kid, the very first time I stepped on stage, it was this whole internal rush and I was like, ‘yes, why isn’t it always like this?’ Coming back, I had the same excitement for it. But that roar wasn’t there. And I [wondered] what happened? I didn’t hop back into it energetically on stage the way I thought I would. That was definitely different. I had to reconnect with performing in a new way.
Your first ballet performance was Hansel and Gretel: The Crone’s Coven. What stands out about that experience?
I had never seen a ballet in my life, because I was anti-ballet. I had no idea what to expect. I didn’t know there was acting. I’m used to performing full dances, telling a story with traditional music. Learning classical music, listening to different counts—that was a whole different experience.
I played Agnes, the mother of Hansel and Gretel, and later the prologue mother. Erica, our Artistic Director, wanted someone a bit older who could bring in the drama of despair—a mother losing her child. It required this vulnerability, and you’re being watched by a bunch of people while you’re trying to be vulnerable. That’s hard. And you have to keep doing it over and over in rehearsal. You can’t save it for the stage.
What made it funnier is that I’m the adult in the room, so all the kids are looking up at me. But I had no idea what was going on either. I had to watch them to learn, and then try to adjust, because they’re also looking to me because I’m the grown up. It was nerve-wracking, but I loved it.
Photos of Malynn Robinson in Civic Dance Center’s Hansel and Gretel: The Crone’s Coven are courtesy of photographer Lisa Wuertz of Bakersfield Dance Photography
You later returned as the Crone. How did that feel?
In the original story, Agnes becomes the Crone to save her children. So being Agnes the first year and then coming back as a Crone it kind of has history within the role itself. I don’t know if that’s what Erica intended, but in my mind, the story lined up with my own. It felt full circle.
Photo credit: Lisa Wuertz
You also performed in the Nutcracker—and eventually en pointe. What did that moment mean to you?
My first Nutcracker was in 2024—I got the role of Mouse and Meringue, a flat scene in the opening of Act Two in the Land of Sweets. Then in 2025, I got Mouse, Meringue again, and my first role ever en pointe, in Chinese.
It was the greatest moment. A month before, I rolled my ankle in rehearsal for that very role and couldn’t dance en pointe for three weeks. My doctor said I had to baby it. I was terrified. But by the time I got on stage, my ankle was starting to cry a little, but I was able to make it through. I performed, and I did my best. It felt like every hard moment—every tedious day of training—was worth it.
Photo credit: Lisa Wuertz
You’ve also joined Bakersfield City Ballet. What does that mean to you?
I auditioned in 2025 and got into the corps. Bakersfield City Ballet is the pre-professional ballet company here—it has a board, it has structure, it has what my first company needed to be. I left a small company over a decade ago, and now I’ve come back to one that’s actually a little bigger and more established. That felt like a full-circle moment, too.
Photo credit: Lisa Wuertz
What would you tell someone who thinks they’ve missed their window to dance?
Just do it. You don’t know what doors are going to open up for you. Start small. I can be very over-ambitious—I’m in nine classes, and I’ve also injured myself more than I have ever admitted. So, it is okay to start small. You will build, and you will build faster than you think. Don’t lose hope because you don’t look like the person next to you. Just with time and consistency, you’re going to get there.
Would you have ever expected yourself dancing on stage en pointe today?
Not at all. I had a small glimmer of hope when my teachers first told me I was strong enough. But once that moment passed and I moved forward, I never thought I was going to be on the stage again in any capacity—especially en pointe.
Courtesy of Malynn Robinson: Malynn Robinson en pointe.
What do you love about living in Kern County?
As someone from SoCal, one thing I really like is that I’m not expected to look perfect. When I first moved here, I was nervous—whenever you hear about Bakersfield from the outside, it just sounds like this very scary place. It’s not. I have family from the Midwest, and I feel like Bakersfield is a Midwest town in California. It’s its own thing. You can breathe out here. The houses aren’t on top of each other, the roads are bigger, there’s space. I don’t feel pressured to keep up with anything. And I really like that.
And when you’re not in the studio, where do you eat local and where do you like to go when you get out of town?
My favorite place to eat is Saigon Bento on Stine Road. And when I leave town, I mainly just go back to visit family—Murrieta and Oceanside.
Want to see Malynn Robinson on the stage? She will be in Sleeping Beauty on April 17th, at the Historic Bakersfield Fox Theater.
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