Welcome to The Block.

A newsletter for people feeling everything at once—trying to stay human in a burning world.

Hi! I’m Dominic (but you can call me Dom).

I’m a choreographer, cultural writer, and storyteller exploring what it means to feel everything at once, and stay human in a burning world.

This is my little corner of the internet: a slower rhythm in a loud, fast world. It’s my response to the chaos we’re all living through and a way to stay connected with people who care about art, culture, memory, and meaning, not just keeping up.

I wanted something more human than social media. More rooted than a feed. Something that feels like a front porch conversation—somewhere between studio notes, kitchen table truth, and Sunday morning reflection.

I didn’t just need a place to write.
I needed a different way to see the world choreographically.

So I built this.

What is The Block?

The Block is part newsletter, part creative hub, part behind-the-scenes journal—a reflection of my life as a Black artist/choreographer, dad, husband, and culture bearer trying to make meaningful work in a world that often feels too noisy to hear your own heartbeat..

Sometimes it’s about dance.
Sometimes it’s about basketball, books, grief, joy, parenting, protest, or a song that won’t let me go.
Whatever the form, this is a space where we slow down, feel fully, and try to make sense of what’s happening inside us and around us.

Twice a month, I send out cultural essays that blend the personal and the political, the body and the spirit, the art and the everyday.
This isn’t a space for hot takes. It’s for reflection.
For people who want to feel more than just caught up.

What kind of space is this?

This is my practice space—where I process in real-time, not just present the polished result.
It’s a journal, a lab, and a gathering point for anyone walking through the world with full heart, full mind, and often, full hands.

Here on The Block., we hold joy and grief in the same breath.
We talk about what it means to create, to rest, to raise children and raise questions, to carry memory in a country that forgets on purpose.

And we do it all with curiosity, spirit, and a little bit of side-eye!

Why “The Block”?

Because if you’ve ever lived on a real block—the kind where your people knew your name and your story—then you know:
It’s more than an address.
It’s a vibe.
A network.
A kind of spiritual choreography.

That’s what I want this to feel like.
A place where we see each other.
Where reflection is a form of resistance.
And where gathering around the questions makes us a little more whole.

So whether you’re visiting or thinking about staying a while—welcome.
This is a space in progress. Like everything else in my life.

You coming to The Block with me?

—Dom

Why subscribe?

Remember when Saturday mornings meant cereal, cartoons, and that feeling like anything could happen?
That’s the energy I’m bringing to The Block.
This is my digital clubhouse, my creative treehouse, my “Hey Arnold!” stoop.
And by subscribing, you're not just peeking through the window—you’ve got your own seat on the couch.

But make no mistake: while the vibe is cozy, the world we’re reflecting on is real.
We’re living through a time that’s burning at the edges—politically, spiritually, culturally—and The Block. is where we slow down, sit with it all, and try to feel our way forward… with some rhythm, some joy, and a little bit of side-eye.

On The Block., we don’t just talk about art.
We use art to talk about everything—culture, sports, politics, spirituality, memory, joy, grief.
We’re figuring out how to feel all of it, and still move with purpose.

It’s part think piece, part behind-the-scenes, part group chat with people who get it.

So if you're the kind of person who grew up loving theme songs, dance breaks, full-court presses, and deep convos after the credits rolled—
this space was built for you.

And if you're new here? Hey. Pull up a chair. We saved you a bowl of cereal.

As a free subscriber, you’ll get:

• The Block Letters- Two monthly cultural essays on the intersection of art, culture, sports, faith and politics…you naaaammmmeee it! (…Shoutout Shirley Caesar.)

This ain’t your average newsletter.
It’s The Block.
Made with love, rhythm, and the soul of a '90s kid who still believes in the power of a good story (and a well-timed theme song).

(GOAT 90’s cartoon theme song btw)

Who Are You Anyway?

Hey! I’m Dominic Moore-Dunson—choreographer/director, performer, producer, dad, husband, and your new favorite neighbor on The Block.

I am a dance & theater maker that moves through real stories and big questions. I have an incredibly ambitious vision to be one of the major American dance voices of the 2020’s and 2030’s (don’t ask me why; working towards potential impossibility is the way my mama made me!). My art lives at the crossroads of performance, culture, and community—often mixing dance, theater, media, live music and text in ways that feel like a living conversation.

Oh—and I’m a former Division I athlete. I played soccer at a high collegiate level, but NBA basketball is my true sports love. I’m from the same hometown as LeBron James (yep, good ole Akron, OH), and I still rewatch Game 7 of the 2016 NBA Finals on YouTube once a year for my annual sports healing ritual. I mean, let’s keep it a buck… with the Cleveland Browns still around, I need something to believe in.

In 2023, Dance Magazine named me one of its “25 to Watch,” and Broadway World called me “one of contemporary dance’s most renown creators and stage movement innovators” (umm…sure? I’ll take it!). The works I’m most known for to date are inCOPnegro: Aftermath, a piece about black communities healing in wake of police violence, my podcast inCOPnegro: Black & Blue, which interviews black and blue communities across the Midwest about police violence, and The Remember Balloons, a tender national touring show adapting the awarding winning children’s book about Alzheimer's (I know, super easy content, right?!?).

Like my choreography, this Substack zooms out to the trending topics shaping our society—but always brings us back to the timely and timeless nuances of what it means to be human.

This newsletter is for people who feel everything at once: the joy, the frustration, the hope, and the heartbreak—trying to stay human in a burning world. Here, I write about what’s moving me, rattling me, and shaping our lives in this version of America.

I’m glad you’re here. Pull up a chair, grab a drink, and let’s build something beautiful together—one feeling, one story, one step at a time.

Dom