Setting the Stage

As told to Shoshana Gross

I started dancing at age two.

And I wasn’t alone.

After all, plenty of parents put their kids into ”bitty ballerinas” programs for the same reason — the adorable factor. But when my mother signed me up for a cute, poofy tutu, neither of us knew how far it would take me.

Kids naturally express themselves through movement. They don’t have the emotional barriers we develop as adults. If they’re happy, they do a happy dance. If they’re sad, it’s a full-blown tantrum. So when a child is constantly pirouetting through the house, parents think, “She loves dancing. Let me sign her up for classes.”

For me, it was different. In the kitchen, I was dancing. In the backyard, I was choreographing. At any opportunity, I was moving to a rhythm. It wasn’t logical; I just had to do it. Dance was a magnet that pulled me in.

My parents recognized something beyond childhood enthusiasm. They saw how deeply I needed this outlet and supported it completely. The commitment, endless carpools, emotional energy — they gave everything because they understood this wasn’t a hobby. Dance was oxygen to me, and they made sure I could breathe.