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I Have A Story

This document tells the story of the author's relationship with dance and mirrors over several stages of their life. As a child, the author saw their frail reflection in mirrors and related to undernourished ballerinas. Through rigorous training in their youth, the author improved but still struggled under harsh criticism. By middle school, the author had gained confidence and saw smiles when looking in mirrors. Now, the author performs for underprivileged HIV-positive children in Nepal and sees hope and light despite their circumstances, reflecting their journey from a gloomy mirror view to one filled with hope.

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33 views1 page

I Have A Story

This document tells the story of the author's relationship with dance and mirrors over several stages of their life. As a child, the author saw their frail reflection in mirrors and related to undernourished ballerinas. Through rigorous training in their youth, the author improved but still struggled under harsh criticism. By middle school, the author had gained confidence and saw smiles when looking in mirrors. Now, the author performs for underprivileged HIV-positive children in Nepal and sees hope and light despite their circumstances, reflecting their journey from a gloomy mirror view to one filled with hope.

Uploaded by

Anonymous AZE5CZcRmG
Copyright
© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
Available Formats
Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd
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UW-Seattle

Writing Supplement
Tell a story from your life, describing an experience that either demonstrates your character or
helped to shape it.

The relationship between a dancer and the mirror is a special one, for what we see is largely
dependent on our experiences and our perspectives.

When I was in elementary school, my mother often took me to the ballet. Admittedly, she doted
on me, spinning dolls with me in the afternoon sunlight and brushing my hair. When she stood
behind me and looked in the mirror, she looked at me adoringly, as if grooming a princess. I would
peek up at her as she smiled down on me. I could never understand that smile because I knew that
I was different. I had been told that I was a miracle, that I had been born early, and that I had
survived only through months in an incubator. But, I didn’t feel that way. For when I looked into
the mirror, I saw the sallow eyes and the gaunt frame. On playgrounds, my grandparents always
tugged me back when the others climbed onto the monkey-bars. It was sinking in – I was special,
but so special that I couldn’t join in. So, when I went to the ballet, when I saw a lone, bone-skinny
girl alone in the spotlight, I saw a part of me. I saw what could be for someone who looked like me,
for someone who still longed for acceptance and maybe more.

Fast forward a year or two and the mirror was still a disappointing partner. The stories from “Raising
the Red Lantern” by Zhang Yimou are no exaggeration of our culture. I wanted to feel the flow and
the passion, but, for now, I had to endure the rigorous training in classical fundamentals. We start
early in China, from even three or four years old. I had told my mother that I could catch up, but
now I was being bested by children years younger. When I stumbled or faltered, I was held after
practice, the lights were dimmed, except for one spotlight falling upon me. “Again.” Feet in place,
chin up, arched back, composure…quick. “Again!” The mirror held the darkness of the room and
watched in silence.

Fast forward again to grade five and six. The mirror now is never dark. When I dance, I move with
confidence, gracefully. When my eyes meet the mirror, the flash of smiles and shining eyes all hit
me at once. It is a joy. I feel healthy and strong. And, now that I can see more than myself in the
mirror, the mirror has chosen to show me much more.

This mirror is stained and dusty. It is gloomy. But, over the years, I have come to see the light. As I
dance for these children in Kathmandu, I see the light streaking through the rain-stained windows.
They are frail and gaunt like I was. They are HIV-positive. But, I do see the light of hope all around.
Light and hope dispel the darkness, in more ways than one. The mirror has proven it to be so.

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