A Small Girl Takes on the Big Apple

There’s something comforting about stepping out into a place where no one cares who you are. In a city of 10 million people, where no one knows your name, where you live, or what you believe. It’s a place where you can write your own story. It’s probably no accident that in the last moment before you reach New York City, you are in utter darkness, disorientated, anticipating your arrival. When I stepped out onto 34th and 7th, no one knew how much I had grown, literally and figuratively. In the beginning of my journey to dance professionally, it was the end of a long trip coming in knowing that there were new heights I had to reach. Who knew feeling out of place growing up meant there was a place I belonged waiting for me in this city.

I’m 5’6”. That’s the minimum height requirement to be a Radio City Rockette and it’s the average height of a Broadway dancer. However, when I entered high school, I could barely reach the top locker. Late bloomers see the world very differently. In short, they’re always looking up.

All my life I have memorized and executed countless amounts of dance steps. But what I truly wasn’t aware of was that the most important steps of my life would be the ones I took up the stairs coming out of Penn Station. I walked down the street with my head held high, truly feeling like I fit in somewhere, a feeling that was hard to experience growing up. You would think in middle school I would have walked with my nose in the air, my neck elongated to its maximum length, doing anything remotely possible to look taller amongst the other students. But I didn’t.  I walked with my head down most of the time, meticulously watching my feet take every step, paying attention to all the other feet surrounding me and where they were going. Basically, I focused on anything else but the students passing by. I noticed the many different types of shoes, the way people walked, and the speed of the paths taken. The way everyone walked down the crowded middle school hallway reminded me exactly of walking down 34th street; this time I walked with my head held high, for in the city I couldn't help but look up. There were so many intriguing things just stretching out above my head waiting for my eyes to fixate on them. Sky high buildings, Broadway marquees, boards being held up by employees trying extremely hard to hand you something they’re selling. It made me wonder what would’ve happened if I just looked up from my feet in middle school. Even though it took me almost 3 years to have this self-revelation, I have realized how being different is something to embrace and be proud of. I have the city to thank for making me feel a part of something bigger, a part of something period.

I was ready to go into my first professional dance class at Broadway Dance Center, feeling an exuberant amount of confidence after my walk there. However, the insecurity still lurked in a pit at the bottom of my stomach. The class began and I looked at the people around me. Dancers of all different races, sizes, social classes, and of course heights, holding themselves assertively but with an accepting nature. There were no glares. No snickers. No whispers behind your back. It was nothing like middle-school. There was no pressure to fit in, to dress, act, and speak like everyone else. To change who you are to fit the social norms. It was a place where the word judgment was an unknown term. Where you could express who you truly were without saying a single word. Where you fit in, not because you’re like everyone else, but because you were different. The pit in my stomach instantaneously disappeared before the first dance move was even taught. I had changed who I was while simultaneously keeping true to myself. I am tall but that won’t change me one bit.