After about 10 years with the company, she left for the United States and worked for a season with the Metropolitan Opera Ballet and for three years with the Joyce Trisler Dance Company. In 1984, she was asked by Alvin Ailey to join his modern dance company.
Building a career in New York was tough, she soon discovered. Elizabeth’s effortless dancing caught the attention of Ailey and soon she was getting major roles in the repertoire. Being an Asian in a very American black company, she became the object of controversy and jealousy. "I felt like an outsider. I was dealing with a different culture, different kinds of people. Americans can be very outspoken. There were instances when I would be verbally attacked, sometimes even on stage. Being so very sensitive I didn’t feel comfortable in my first years. I had to constantly prove myself. I had to change my own attitude and go into myself… in order to deal with the different situations I faced each day."
She survived the blows. Talent and tenacity are formidable weapons, after all. "When you’re young, it’s normal to be competitive with yourself but in so doing you compete with others." But nobody was going to stop Elizabeth from pursuing her dreams. The 14-year-old Filipina dancer metamorphosed into a seasoned star of New York City before anyone could wink. Soon, she was being described by New York critics as "The real season stunner...," the "cool still lyrical center of the Ailey storm..." and "one of the 500 most influential Asian Americans."
During one performance, she was accidentally dropped by her partner causing a knee injury that would hound her for the rest of her career. Her knee cap was destroyed and she had to develop the surrounding muscles to support it. This sort of injury can spur anyone with lesser ardor to quit. "Instead, it propelled me to work even harder. I wanted to prove my doctors – and to myself – that will power can be stronger than any kind of disability." Elizabeth continued to dance for many years minus the needed reconstructive surgery for her knee. Nobody in the audience guessed that the woman who moved so effortlessly on stage was moving with so much labor. "Dance is shortlived so you work hard, like an athlete. The body is a fine instrument you constantly tune," is all she has to say.
"My practice of Buddhism also changed my whole approach to life and dance. Buddhism has kept me sane. I know who I am. I have a goal, a mission… I have something to say. There’s a little hardness there yet I think I’ve kept my vulnerability. Now I’m more secure but the process took a long time."
After a triumphant career in New York Elizabeth chose to return to Manila for her last series of performances before retirement. "I want to stop dancing where I began, with Ballet Philippines."
Like a cycle being completed, she is to do Carmen, a ballet choreographed for Nonoy Froilan and myself by Alice Reyes in 1984. She particularly requested for me to work with her, one-on-one, which thrilled me. She came to rehearsals a bit muzzy with jetlag but eager to learn as much as she could, as fast as she could. We looked at the video and, suddenly overcome with modesty, I told her, "Hey, you know what? Har har… you don’t have to do it that way… you have my permission to do it better."
And how. While working with her I saw that she does things without fuss, almost as if she is part of the air. You breathe her but you don’t quite feel her, while she’s learning, that is. Hers is a kind of intensity that does not disturb. She is a student learning movement from her teacher without qualm.
After two mind-boggling weeks of rehearsals, we managed to piece the scenes together and talk about the emotional content of the story. I prepared myself for her first run, eager to see my old friend, the shy young thing who used to giggle a lot. I wasn’t prepared to see the formidable artist… the big star of New York. She startled me with her comprehension of every emotional aspect of her character, Carmen, a person who, in my mind, is not at all Elizabeth Roxas. Powerful, delicate, sexy, virginal, sensitive, reckless. How could she be all that in so little a time?
Her dancing does say a lot. It speaks of the long, arduous journey of a talented entity who took single steps forward with courage. Her mission is fulfilled and she is ready to move towards other conquests. My greatest tribute to my friend is this: I wish I danced Carmen like her.