Picture this: Lincoln Center. Newly renovated. Green everywhere. A peace that quiets even the bzzz of the bees. The sun is kissing my face, the spring breeze is tickling my neck and a light roar comes from the reflective pool in front of me. In the distance I see Julliard. On my cheek I feel the hot warmth of a tear. I trace it's voyage pore by pore as it exits my ducts and descends, to where I don't know, but the journey is slow and warming. To most people this building is just that-a building. To me this building is a city block of my young dreams. Cement blocks of hope. Windows that look into the future. A structure that captured all of my sent prayers and kept them secret. All I've ever dreamed....and yet I stand on the outside looking in, dreams silenced, reality proves yet again that she has won.
My obsession with dance started early. I remember always dancing in circles in my room. No one there but me and music. I remember stopping dead in my tracks if anybody on TV was doing something more advance than walking. I would wrap a sheet around my little waist and become a ballerina. I'd put a stick in my mouth and be an african dancer. I'd put bottle caps on the bottom of my sneakers, my mother HATED this, and move my feet really fast like I was tapping. Oh, what a mess. Oh, how I begged to be in class. We couldn't afford it. That was that. The next week I joined every show choir, glee club, botany team...anything just hoping that I could learn something.(there was a cute guy in the botany class...don't judge) Eventually I got really good. Dance captain for the show choir and glee club, I even choreographed a musical in junior year. The most exciting part was that freshmen year a friend's father saw my passion for dance and became my sponsor and enrolled me in tap, ballet, and modern! With my passion for dance and good training...I picked it up quickly. My teacher said I needed more intense training and she suggested some programs and schools...one of them, Julliard.
Long story short...I went and auditioned! They said I had good technique, the passion was there, but I was fat. What I failed to mention was that I had started to gain weight when I was 11 and could never lose it. I worked hard, my technique was good, I was just, well fat. That three letter word devestated me. I stopped dancing for a great while. I stopped loving myself. I overate to deal and gained 60lbs in doing so. I hated myself for being me. I've recently rediscovered my love for dance. The passion never left me. The joy took a seat on the back burner. My belief in people did go. I was confused as to how someone whose world was dance could destroy the dreams of a fellow dancer. Maybe I'm not as resolved with this issue as I had hoped. I zip up my bag, I look down at my thighs...so that's where the tear landed. I wipe the spot, throw my chin up and keep it moving. Sometimes consistently fighting the opposition is tiring and so you resolve to let it just be. and it's done.