Of all things I could have chosen to spend countless hours doing, I chose dance. Maybe I wanted to follow in my mom’s footsteps or maybe I just liked the idea of expressing myself without having to speak. Regardless, dance is all I did. And when you spend all your life engrossed in one activity, it becomes all you know.
A disaster occurred the first time I stepped out of the comforting doors of my small studio. Much to my luck, the teacher of the class, an old Russian man with a very thick accent, seemed to only direct his criticism to me. I tried everything from giving him confused looks to telepathy communicating my lack of understanding but more shouted corrections just kept coming.
I spent the next year convinced I would never leave my studio again. Eventually I broke my vow and tried once again to relentlessly shove myself into the world of pre-professional dance. The months leading into my freshman year I planned to attend a summer intensive and apply to be a student at the Fort Worth Academy of Fine Arts.
After stumbling through paperwork, completing a stressful audition, being assigned to the waiting list and remaining there for weeks, I finally received my FWAFA acceptance letter. That night, and every night for the rest of the summer, I would lay in bed fantasizing about bright lights and thunderous rounds of applause until I could finally sleep.
Ten years of dance had finally brought me a golden opportunity to have a future doing what I love.
Three weeks before school started, I attended a two week long summer intensive with Joffrey Ballet School. As we’ve seen before when situations don’t go the way I want them to, I stop. So, when my experience at Joffrey contradicted what I thought it would be, the end of the intensive brought my decision to quit dance.
While at Joffrey, I saw too many girls dancing for attention and lacking appreciation for the artistry. They were burnt out, moving from competition to convention, hoping someone might watch them so they can get the recognition they deserved. They were beautiful dancers who didn’t believe in themselves enough to see it. The more I watched these girls, the more I saw our differences were few; I had become more like them than I wanted to be.
In my dressing room, I dramatically confessed to my mom while she helped me get ready for the final performance of the intensive. It should have been a scene out of a movie, timing and setting all built up the tension of the moment for when I finally say my true feelings. In movies, the actors know what to say. But in reality, all I knew to say was that I wanted to quit like my life depended on it.
The weeks following were hard. I transferred back from FWAFA to Legacy, officially unenrolled from my studio and spent most of my time trying to figure out what comes next. I had worked so hard for my future and in weeks thrown it all away. Knowing I no longer had anything to work towards scared me the most. At least when I wanted to be a professional dancer I could dream about my future, but now, I don’t even know what to want.
So, here we are, two years later and my future remains unknown. After two weeks of not dancing, I ran back to my studio and begged them to allow me to re-enroll. I still train as hard as ever, but I take time to remind myself why I dance and to remember: my present is just as important as my future. It has taken a lot of self-correcting, but I’m finally okay with living where I’m at.
