The camera remains completely focused on Grayson as he watches Claire, robbing her of any glory or self-expression. From his face, it’s clear that she’s good. Really good. He’s found a new talent, but all we get to witness is Grayson taking ownership of Claire. Her story is still a mystery. Why did she need to escape her father in Pittsburgh? How did she keep up her technique after quitting the Pittsburgh Ballet? She must be a phenomenal dancer, because Grayson offers her a place in the company — but her career is completely under his control now.

More of Claire’s story falls into place throughout the pilot (and the rest of the series’ eight episodes), but it’s always shaped by male characters. She isn’t just running away from her father in Pittsburgh; she also has a brother, and their relationship is incestuous. On her very first day at ABC, the company’s principal male dancer, Ross (Sascha Radetsky, who viewers will recognize from Center Stage), immediately hits on her in class.

Grayson decides Claire is going to be his new star. But in order to assume the position, she must offer her body to the company’s main benefactor and chairman of the board, a lascivious man who appears to view his patronage in the ballet as more of an investment in nubile bodies whose legs will spread if he so commands it. She’s uncomfortable with this proposition. She didn’t sign up to be a prostitute.

In Grayson’s opinion, Claire acts too virginal and closed off. His strategy for dealing with this is to call her in when he’s getting a massage, stand in front of her completely naked, shove his penis in her face, and say, “This is a dick. Now go out there and get one of your own!” Feels like a sexual harassment complaint waiting to happen, right?

Unfortunately, as artistic director, Grayson gets away with this kind of abuse. Both Sarah Hay and Raychel Diane Weiner, who plays another company member named Daphne, say this rings true to life — although they’ve never witnessed or experienced it to the extreme portrayed in Flesh and Bone.

“The artistic director makes or breaks your entire life. If he doesn’t like you, you’re not going to succeed. If he doesn’t believe in you, you won’t get the big roles. It can be something as simple as that, and you can be screwed based on just the opinion of someone. You do have to sort of realize that you’re a chess piece in their game,” Hay told us.

As to why everyone defaults to the masculine pronoun when talking about AD’s, “Unfortunately, it is a male-dominated position,” Weiner explains. “It’s unfortunate that there aren’t more female artistic directors, and I’m not quite sure why... That’s kind of how it’s always been.”

Is Flesh and Bone (which I’ve started calling Flesh and Boners in my head, because it’s practically Freudian in its obsession with phallus-bearers) meant to be a heavy-handed statement about the patriarchy? The final ballet, which is supposed to be Claire’s star-making turn, is about a young woman’s journey to adulthood and sexual awakening...that apparently revolves entirely around men. Sexuality is a part of life, but on Flesh and Bone, it cannot possibly be experienced as a form of self-empowerment (or on one’s own terms and timeline) — and it certainly cannot be expressed as desire for another woman. Everything on this show is about being admired by men.

And I haven’t even gotten to the strip club yet.

To make what creator Moira Walley-Beckett (best known for her Emmy-winning work on Breaking Bad) might see as a groundbreaking statement, Flesh and Bone juxtaposes two seemingly disparate dance worlds: ballet and a gentleman’s club. Daphne moonlights as a stripper, and Claire soon joins her in this second-shift pursuit.