To the first people who saw the dancer in me

When I was in 6th grade, watching the K-drama “Sassy Go Go,” I yearned for the kind of bond the characters shared — a group bound by passion, fighting for what they love. They were an underprivileged dance group, and the school favored the cheer squad more. Funny, isn’t it? Five years later, I found myself living that exact situation.

Once I thought, that’s right, unlike other organizations, we don’t receive benefits, we don’t get scholarships, we don’t have the favor from the higher-ups. Yet, we allot time, we pour money, and we make an effort for this. We give our blood, sweat, and tears. We get tired, but we push ourselves. And for what? For passion. Now I understand what you said during the audition — this group is driven solely by passion.

Being with souls as passionate as mine, hearts with the same passion as mine was healing, fun, and touching.

For two years I can just be myself, free and authentic. I can just dance like a river flowing in its own course, a bird gracefully flapping its wings, high and unbound. I could be who I wanted to be. I even experienced things I never thought I could experience.

Thank you for believing in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. First, you welcomed me despite my lack of preparation and experience. Then, you placed me in a hip-hop cut, even when I lacked expertise, pushing me out of my comfort zone. And finally, putting me on center numerous times, even when I doubted if I could do it and if I deserved it.

“You can do it.”

“You’re quiet but your expression speaks a lot.”

“You’re just quiet at first, but you’re actually a beast.”

I don’t even know if I can call myself a dancer, but you see me as one. You make me feel like one.

Back then when I first started, I was open to quitting if it got too hard. I had joined multiple organizations after feeling devastated when I couldn’t audition for another dance group due to my wisdom tooth extraction (which turned out to be a blessing in disguise). I found out late about you, and I’m still adjusting in the new environment. It did get hard but I held on, wanting to see what the future held. And your words struck me, “If it’s hard, it means you’re out of your comfort zone, and when you’re out of your comfort zone, it means you’re growing.”

Yet, I still allowed myself the thought of quitting if I can’t handle it anymore. And I couldn’t handle it anymore, especially becoming a marketing head with only one member under me (add to that the concert preparations with lots of work for us than just rehearsing pieces). Yet, I couldn’t imagine a life without the group anymore. I wouldn’t know how to cope without training and dancing after a stressful day.

The moment I knew I was going to transfer school, I couldn’t contain my emotions. I’m not only letting go of one of my dream schools, one of my dream courses, a version of myself; I’m also letting go of you.

I thought I’d be here for four more years, performing until the 5th dance concert, but now I’m just one of the faces in the crowd. It breaks my heart to hear “We’re the only ones left” once again. But I know you can do it, you can make it, just like we always did when people leave. Dance will continue, as it always does. And I will continue too, finding my way forward.

A piece of me will be left with you, and a piece of you is now carved in me.

Until the next get buck.