Kayah was bullied and ignored but people took notice when he danced

Maitreyah Guenther shudders at “the R-word”. Classmates mouthed it at disabled students entering and exiting her school’s support unit. One target was her older brother Kayah, born with Down syndrome and bullied since they were small.

“From a young age I sort of lost faith in people,” she says.

Physical movement provided an escape. Kayah learnt powerlifting with his brother Jarmahn, and joined Maitreyah in movement classes at their mother Leanne’s dance studio. He found his voice in non-verbal expression: people who might have ignored him when he spoke paid attention when he danced.

Maitreyah Guenther and older brother Kayah. Credit: Paul Harris

Kayah was spotted by Gavin Webber, co-artistic director of The Farm, a contemporary dance and performance company. Under Webber’s mentorship, Kayah became a professional dancer, debuting on the international festival circuit and featuring in the award-winning film The Battle.

Webber describes Kayah’s movement style as “a beast! He is an incredible communicator. Everyone is always standing there, all these professional dancers, and Kayah just blows them out of the water. Dance is the way he speaks: he has this sense of power, of giving power to others.”

With The Farm, Maitreyah and Kayah present Glass Child at the Seymour Centre this month. Part dance, part theatre, and – Webber jokes – “part TED talk”, Glass Child is an uplifting, poignantly funny autobiographical work tracing the duo’s childhood and the discrimination they still have to overcome.

“People cry a lot, it’s really powerful,” Webber says. “It’s so personal, it expands into this universal feeling. There’s a point where you feel the tears coming – I remember being at [Queensland Performing Arts Centre] realising you could start to hear the sniffs.

“Those feelings of Maitreyah’s, of being betrayed by the world, and the pure love between the siblings … actors would have a really hard time [conveying] it’s genuine. But every time Maitreyah [and Kayah] deliver these texts … emotionally you’re hit.”

Mixed ability performance is in its infancy in Australia compared with the US and Europe, with Restless Dance Theatre being Australia’s single most prominent mixed ability dance company. Webber, who performed in a “melting pot” of multiracial and mixed ability casts during his European career, observes that overseas “this sense of diversity was just kind of built-in”.

Leanne says fostering Kayah’s ambitions with discipline gave him creative freedom. “Don’t treat them like they’re delicate, because they’re not,” she says, echoing the approach shared by Michelle Ryan, artistic director of Restless. “You might have to approach things in a different way, but your expectations don’t need to limit them.”

Christopher Lavilles, a Wollongong dancer now at Singapore Ballet, agrees. His mother, Louise, enrolled all five of her children in ballet, including the youngest, Nathaniel, who also has Down syndrome.

“He was the only person with a disability in the dance school,” Lavilles recalls. “But I would see him at performances with this big smile on his face, dancing his heart out, and it showed what dancing should be about.”

Lavilles, known for his athletic jumps, now enjoys an international ballet career and is “a big believer in the power of dance as a form of communication”.

“Seeing Nathaniel love it for the sake of what it’s meant to be – which is storytelling, expression, communication and connection – inspires me to bring that out when I perform.”

‘My brother can connect with people better than many others. He taught us to have a heart for differences in society.’

Christopher Lavilles

Before moving to Singapore, Lavilles volunteered with the Inclusion Foundation, teaching dance to adults with Down syndrome. “It was about giving people a space to feel free to express themselves, without judgment. It was a very special thing.”

Down syndrome is so misunderstood and stigmatised that even health professionals implicitly pressured Leanne and Louise to have abortions or give their sons away at birth. Leanne recalls nurses later treating her “coldly”, and a social worker acting like she was “crazy” for keeping Kayah.

“We could have chosen a different way,” she says, “But it’s been a magnificent journey.”

“Society underestimates people all the time,” Webber adds. “We like to think we know what they’ve got inside them, but we don’t. It’s this incredible possibility and potential Kayah has unlocked.”

Lavilles says he has learnt much from Nathaniel’s life. “My brother can connect with people better than many others. He taught us to have a heart for differences in society … he has touched and will continue to touch a lot of people and improve their lives. Difference might bring hardship, but it also creates strengths and joys.”

When Lavilles visits home, he and Nathaniel take ballet class together at Sydney Dance Company.

As Maitreyah prepares for the opening of Glass Child, she says: “I often think back to the kids in the schoolyard. Saying ‘Shut up – wait until you see what this guy’s gonna do!’”

Glass Child is at the Seymour Centre from April 9 to 16.