I am a performer. I was only five when I first performed for a large crowd, dancing in the “The Nutcracker” ballet and a traditional Korean dance piece before hundreds of people. I loved every aspect of the performance; I loved the lights, the festivity, and the chance to do something new. But this moment also marked the beginning of my love-hate relationship with dance that would define the next two decades of my life.
- Dancing in 1996
I’ll start with the “love” aspect of my relationship with dance. I love dancing because human movements fascinate me. This is partly due to my background: I was born in Japan, lived in Korea until I was nine, and then emigrated to the U.S. I often found myself in situations where I did not speak the local language fluently. As a result, I would focus on body language, and it was incredible how much I could comprehend without understanding a word.
On a more spiritual level, dancing makes me feel alive. Steve Jobs once said, "We're here to make a dent in the universe." Well, dancing lets me do that on a literal level. Dance reflects the many aspects of human life. Like life, there is a definite beginning and ending to the choreography. You can do whatever you please, but your moves will ultimately impact your choreography as a whole. Your performance is also influenced by external forces (e.g. music, crowd, lights) that are not fully under your control. Every time I dance, I have the chance to really examine what I am feeling that day, minute, and second. It is a gift.
But dancing is also linked to some of the darkest moments in my life. In middle school, my crush rejected me at a school dance because I was a “horrible” dancer. How did that happen, when I’d been dancing since age three? I had stopped dancing for a while after moving to the U.S., and I guess my body forgot how to respond to beats.
After that rejection, I resolved to start dancing again. I joined the cheerleading squad in high school. I was not the best dancer on the team, but my ballet training made me more flexible than most people. But being a cheerleader also made me extremely conscious of my body. I never felt skinny or pretty enough. I felt inadequate. I would starve for an extended period of time and then binge. Cheerleading sucked all the fun out of dance.
Then I reached another turning point. In college, I studied abroad in China, and I came across belly dance. It was an electric experience for me. I was enraptured by the melodic drumbeats combined with sexy, disciplined belly movements. I had never done Middle Eastern Dance before, but I had to give it a try. The muscle isolation and hip movements that are at the core of belly dance did not come naturally to me, but it came in bits and pieces.
- Yale Belly Dance Society
For the past five years, I have been belly dancing. Since my novice stage in China, I have progressed to an intermediate level. At Yale, I was part of Yale Belly Dance Society, where I learned that belly dancing actually comes in many different types: American Cabaret, Egyptian, Turkish, Tribal Fusion, Arabic, etc. After graduation I was part of the Los Angeles Belly Dance Academy, where our troupe performed at the opening of Beverly Hills’ Centennial Anniversary on Rodeo Drive.
- Beverly Hills Centennial Anniversary
At Columbia Law, my dancing journey continues. Art brings out the rawest parts of the human psyche. When I dance, I choose to forget who I am, which actually allows another part of me to emerge. I am a blank slate that can morph into anything I want to be.
You don’t have to be Eminem to be a Rap God. The Diva can emerge only if you let her come alive.
