Dear Mom,

Born into a violent city, it is expected that children are forced into being a victim in cross fire. Chicago has always been known as the city of gang violence, because of this, I spent most of my childhood days in grandmother’s one bedroom apartment. One day, watching T.V, Ciara (singer, songwriter, and dancer) appeared on the screen, I have never seen someone express themselves in such an artistic way. In that moment, I knew I wanted to be a dancer. Ultimately, dancing became my symbol of hope and safe place in all the killing, drug abuse, and robbing happening outside my window. Quickly,  grandmother’s one bedroom apartment transformed into a broadway stage.

Time went on and dancing became more apart of me. It helped me realize things that I never was able to see with my bare eyes. The more I danced, the more I started to see positivity around me. This all changed quickly when we packed all of our things and moved 670 miles down to Mississippi away from everything I have grown custom to. Unfortunately, moving did not help me escape this world of violence. Violence went from being a neighbor to being a roommate. I spent the other half of my childhood watching you being attack mentally and physically by a very jealous, insecure, and dangerous man. As things got worse, you did not pay much attention to me as you once did before. How can you as a mother be strong for me, when you can not be strong for yourself?  As a result, I lost my faith in God because I spent my nights praying for a miracle, but years had gone by and things never changed. After a while, my life became routine, go to school, come home, and locked myself in my room.

In due time, depression robbed me from my heart, soul, and mind. From here on out, everyday was dark, cold, and lonely. Oddly enough, the walls of my bedroom screamed out at me, telling me life is not worth living. In this moment, I realized, my worst nightmare had come to life. Instantly, I became afraid of anything outside of the four walls surrounding me. In fact, I was even afraid of the floor because I did not want to imagine being lower than what I already was. There were days I couldn’t find the strength to get out of bed. From time to time, music would seep through my bedroom window, and my mind replayed tapes of something that once brought me happiness and peace, dance. In that time, I knew that I couldn’t give up on the little happiness that I had. I told myself that If I gave dance up, I would fall way deep into the negativity. That was not who I wanted to be, so I became a new me.

Dancing is for me is more than a hobby, it is a form expression, storytelling, and art. I dance for relief, stability, imagination, excitement, and me. Those who say “God is my savior” but dance is mine. I remember going through my junior year of high school and you were wondering why my grades were suffering tremendously. There were days where I just couldn’t get out of bed and days that I could everything around me appeared to me as a blur. This time around, my depression was stronger than ever and I need to take back my life. To do so, I knew I had to do what made me happy. I know to you dancing may seem a little silly but it changed the way I perceived myself. My goal is to own my own dance studio in a neighborhood known for drug abuse and violence. I want to give back to children who needs something to look forward to, I want to change lives one dance at a time.