Do you enjoy dancing?
“One, two, three, four and one, two, three, four,” I snapped and counted as the girls did their moves to the sound of my finger.
I watched with pride as their bodies moved gracefully across the room.
The passion in their performance nearly moved me to tears because, at one time, I shared the same dream for myself as they did.
However, there was one girl who stood out from the others.
I could tell that she was struggling to capture her moves.
Every time she didn’t feel as confident, she would move on to the next count.
I clapped my hands, signaling them to stop.
They all directed their attention toward me, and Alyse instantly knew they’d all stopped because of her.
I pointed to her, “Come to the front, Alyse.”
She dropped her head and came forward. I lifted her chin, “Why are you here?” I asked.
She shrugged. “My parents,” she mumbled.
“Do you enjoy dancing?”
She nervously turned to look behind her before looking back at me, “Yes, I dance at TSU, but this is different.”
I nodded. This I knew all too well. To love something, but having the pressure of your family hanging on your shoulders makes it unenjoyable. I glanced up at everyone.
Clap! Clap!
“Everyone open the floor,” I told the girls.
I glanced at Alyse. I wondered if her parents forced her to attend TSU rather than Juilliard, where she might have been more comfortable.
I didn’t know Alyse’s story, but I wanted to know more because I saw a lot of myself in her.
“I will start, and you will follow,” I paused.
“I’ve been where you are. This is not about your parents, but you.
If you enjoy ballet, then you dance with your heart. ”
“Morgan, hit play when I tell you to.”
Morgan nodded before walking near the sound system.
I stood in front of the wall-length mirror and stared at myself.
Although I was good at what I did, I had gotten so lost in the outside world that I didn’t see myself as a ballerina; all I saw was a stripper, and shame consumed me.
I took in a deep breath before I looked at Alyse.
Follow me. I mouthed.
There was no way I could show a weaker side to my girls.
They looked up to me. Unbeknownst to them, their instructor was a stripper bitch, with a crazy nigga for an ex and a plan in my head for a come up.
However, in this moment, I was Porsha the ballerina, the little girl who’d always dreamed of being on someone’s stage dancing to an orchestra that played their rendition of a modern-day classic.
I nodded at Morgan, who hit play. As the music started, I began.
Arms out, then up. Plié, plié.
Before I knew it, I was all over the floor.
My body moved like silk as I got lost in the moment.
There was no stripping, no chasing money, no Kareem, and no shame.
I just danced. By the time I glanced back in the mirror, Alyse had joined me.
She moved so perfectly that I stopped to watch her.
She floated and moved with so much passion that it touched me.
Once she was done, we all smiled and cheered for her. I ended class feeling good and even more eager to open my own studio. The goal was to give girls the confidence they needed. To let them know, regardless of your background, a young black woman or girl can be in a setting such as ballet.
As the girls were leaving, Alyse stopped in front of me. “Thank you. I love dancing and ballet. I’ve been dancing since I was five, but” she paused. “My parents they much rather me get an education than dance. So, the compromise was me joining the dance team on campus at TSU.” She shrugged.
Before I could respond, three of the other girls snickered. “Be careful, Alyse, we don’t want you to learn how to be a stripper instead,” they said as they walked out of the room.
Well damn! Alyse just looked at me as she dropped her head and walked out. I was embarrassed because in that moment, I was feeling proud, but those little bitches humbled me so fast. They brought me back to reality and reminded me of my standing in life.
I had gone to grab my bag, when I heard my name being called. When I turned around to look, it was Kareem’s friend, Mison. I didn’t know what he wanted, but I smelled bullshit.