Walking into my dance studio, located in Sheboygan, WI, my eyes are drawn to my friends I’ve none all my life. All waiting in the dancers den, all the groups so heavily divided, as they typically are in middle school. One of those other groups included Keeyana, who was relatively new to the studio. Practice had began and we started consistently cleaning and sharpening the routine, per usual. Except it changed when one of my friends makes a comment to me about Keeyana’s hair. She says, “Why does her hair always look straight out of Dr. Seuss?”. Keeyana had her hair in a style that was different. Majority of the fine, straight haired girls in my studio didn’t understand that different types of hair need to be styled differently. I did not appreciate what my friend had said about her hair, despite if Keeyana and I were close or even friends at all. I began to speak out, “Her hair looks great, her hair has completely different textures than ours. Don’t be rude”. Along with approaching Keeyana and complimenting her hair, knowing how beautifully unique it was. The conversation was over, and I was finishing practice without thinking about that situation again.
But, my teammates had began saying more negative comments about Keeyana when I wasn’t around. At the competition, I was surprised to see my mom approaching me on our break, because she had said she was getting food with the other dance moms. She begins to tell me, “Keeyana’s mom began to yell at all the mom’s around me for mistreating her daughter.” This comment initially made me confused, because I never had said anything bad about her before. She pauses, then continues, “But then points at me, and said that your daughter was the only one to stand up for her. I appreciate that more than she will ever know.” You could see the joy in my mothers face saying that aloud. In that moment, nothing but Keeyana’s feelings had filled my mind.