Being neurodivergent with autism, I always felt different and weird. But through the art of dance, everything shifted. I found my people- who were just as passionate, excitable, creative, athletic, courageous, and ambitious. I found people who were empathetic and able to see things from other perspectives. Most importantly, I found people who were tolerant of other people’s opinions and beliefs. As unfortunate as it is, it is inevitable for those who harbor any unique traits or challenges to struggle within our society, simply due to the fact that our society was not structured with them in mind. My initial struggle due to my realization that I was transgender around age 11, as a serious dancer with a dream of becoming a professional ballerina, was life altering. In my mind everything I had dreamed of was forced to come to a grinding halt, as l believed that there was no way I could carry on with my passion for dance if this were to be my new life. It was not until I worked out these complex feelings and started my transition a few years later, I was finally able to return to dance with a fresh start. Although the initial return was undeniably difficult (both from a physical and mental perspective), I kept pushing through and am now proud of my artistic and technical growth over the past couple of years. If it weren't for the endless support and encouragement from my loved ones and instructors, I would have never rediscovered my long-lost passion and found my place in the world. I was finally able to breathe, become my true self, and improve academically, creatively, and socially, despite this adversity. My love for discussion, civil discourse, and the arts has lead me down the path to strive for a BFA in Contemporary Dance, in a conservatory audition-based program. I can't wait to move into this next phase of my artistic journey; college dance/art departments often are very inclusive and allow marginalized voices to be celebrated. They tend to support activism by encouraging students to create choreography that reflects real-world issues and personal identity. Through dance composition classes and student performances, I hope to inspire others to use movement to explore social justice, inclusion, and change. Dance performances often start conversations and help audiences reflect, showing that dance can be both art and advocacy. I also plan to minor in animation so I can combine animation and dance to create projects that blend movement and technology. By bringing these art forms together, I hope to tell meaningful stories about emotion, identity, and social issues, and make a positive impact through my work. I hope to inspire others and bring teachable moments to all who look for guidance or change. I love using art as a form of expression to share my ideas and views; being able to influence just one person and to make the world a more accessible and uplifting place would mean that I have accomplished what I have always set out to do. I look forward to a future where society completes the shift to fully supporting and uplifting those underserved. I firmly believe that the fight for equity and inclusivity never truly ends.

As unfortunate as it is, it is inevitable for those who harbor any unique traits or challenges to struggle within our society, simply due to the fact that our society was not structured with them in mind. Living with diagnosed anxiety and depression, as well as autism spectrum disorder, has taught me a lot about discipline, self-awareness, and asking for support when I need it. When I was 12 years old, my mental health struggles were partially due to my realization that I was transgender. As a serious dancer with a dream of becoming a professional ballerina, in my mind everything I had dreamed of was forced to come to a grinding halt, as l now believed that there was no way I could carry on with my passion for dance if this were to be my new life. Although I had always been an anxious child, my mental health began to decline even more as thoughts darkened and self harm became the norm, as l didn't know how to deal with these new feelings. I subsequently quit dancing altogether, and although I never truly lost my love for dance during this dark period, my brain began to associate it with feelings of gender dysphoria and insecurity, which led me to become repulsed by any mention or memories of dance. This was also during the pandemic, and as I sat alone in my bedroom for a year and a half learning online, my depression worsened and my grades began to slip, to where I needed to be hospitalized until my medical team could ensure my safety. It was not until I worked out these complex feelings, spoke with a therapist, and started my transition a few years later, I was finally able to return to dance with a fresh start. Although the initial return was undeniably difficult (both from a physical and mental perspective), I kept pushing through and am now proud of my artistic and technical growth over the past couple of years. If it weren't for the endless support and encouragement from my loved ones and instructors, I would have never rediscovered my long-lost passion and found my place in the world. I was finally able to breathe, become my true self, and improve academically and socially, despite this adversity. My parents are both artists and performers who believe in activism through art, so creativity has always been part of my life, and I plan to follow in their footsteps to pursue a BFA in Contemporary Dance through an audition-based conservatory program and eventually become a professional dancer and choreographer. Because I want to dance professionally, taking care of my mental health is just as important as the physical training. Therapy with mental health professionals, consistently taking my medication, and honest communication with my parents, teachers, and friends have helped me stay focused over the years since my initial depression and anxiety diagnosis at age 11. I’ve learned that each day isn’t always perfect, and sometimes success just means showing up and doing the best that I can. It’s easy to think of mental health challenges as struggles, but I’ve started to see them as part of what shapes me as an artist and overall human. They’ve helped me become more empathetic and reflective in my work as a dancer, as well as my day to day living. I try to set realistic goals, accept feedback, and keep going even when things feel difficult. Some days I focus on improving dance technique or working on relationships with others, while other days the goal is simply to keep moving forward. Some days the goal is just to walk into school or my dance building and just show up. Recently, I suffered a 3 cm proximal hamstring tendon tear, which was a huge setback, and devastating for my senior year. Gone are the competitions, featured parts in dances, and special performances. The silver lining was that I had completed most of my college auditions and received my artistic and academic acceptances. Surgery was the first step, but recovery has shown me that healing is not just physical. Physical therapy is helping me rebuild strength, but mental health therapy is also helping me regain confidence while I’m sidelined from dancing. My mental health professional is helping me deal with some true fears, like falling behind, being left out, and getting hurt again, but tracking progress and seeing small improvements has already helped me stay hopeful and motivated. Once I’m healed, my goal is to return to high-level training this summer and then continue developing my technique in college and beyond. I want to create and perform work that explores themes of gender identity, mental health, and neurodiversity. My dream is to build a career where authenticity and artistry work together, and where my experiences make me a stronger performer rather than hold me back. I also hope to inspire others, especially people who feel overlooked, hurt, or judged. Through dance, I want to show that being transgender or living with mental health challenges doesn’t stop someone from achieving big goals. Art has the power to start conversations and help people feel seen. If my work can encourage even one person to accept themselves or feel understood, then I will feel like I have accomplished what I’ve always set out to do.

My parents are both professional artists and/or performers, so my fate to be an artist was sealed before I was born. With my neurodivergent tendencies, I always felt different and weird. But with dance, visual art, and technical theatre, everything shifted. I found people who were just as passionate and excitable. Creativity, heart, soul, friendship, kindness, collaboration, courage, and ambition are all essential for a successful artist, and finding that collaboration with other students sealed the deal. The change was immediate the moment I stepped onto the stage with other dancers, picked up a sketchbook and drew a picture of a friend, or helped construct a set. I truly felt ambition for the first time- it was like a light clicked, illuminating only one possible path for me to take on. The visual and performing arts brightens life even in people’s darkest hours. It teaches empathy by making people see things from other perspectives. More importantly, it encourages us to be more tolerant of other people’s opinions and beliefs. Being neurodivergent and transgender, I hope to inspire others who have felt ignored, hurt, or bullied, and bring teachable moments to all who look for guidance or change. Ever since I came out, I vowed to use my voice to uplift those whose voices are continuously silenced. I also have a strong passion for collaboration, discussion, and discourse, and my desire to educate people on LGBTQ+ issues has given me the confidence to step up as a leader becoming an official Student Equity Ambassador. This program is reserved for students who feel a strong urge to make my county a more diverse and equitable place, and its purpose is for these students to work together to come up with viable solutions to ongoing community challenges. I am very vocal about my identity, both in person and online, and I will definitely continue to be until I am confident that LGBTQ+ individuals are safe and secure within our society. My plan is to continue to increase my artistic and technical skills as I strive for a BFA in Contemporary Dance, in a conservatory audition-based program. I can't wait to move into this next phase of my artistic journey; college dance departments often are very inclusive and allow marginalized voices to be celebrated. They tend to support activism by encouraging students to create choreography that reflects real-world issues and personal identity. Through dance composition classes and student performances, I hope to inspire others to use movement to explore social justice, inclusion, and change. Dance performances often start conversations and help audiences reflect, showing that dance can be both art and advocacy. I am also excited to collaborate with other visual and performing artists, and work across disciplines, especially in digital animation, which is another passion of mine (I'm currently in the digital animation program at a special academy alongside my academic classes). I plan to minor in animation art so I can combine animation and dance to create projects that blend movement and technology. By bringing these art forms together, I hope to tell meaningful stories about emotion, identity, and social issues, and make a positive impact through my work. I love collaborating with other artists as a form of expression to share our ideas and views; being able to influence just one person with this love, and to make the world a more accessible and uplifting place would mean that I have accomplished what I have always set out to do.

I am one of the lucky ones. I feel safe in my high school and am able to access education while having my gender identity affirmed. But accessing education at the collegiate level is another story. My being trans is not stopping me, I have the emotional support from my family, but the cost is so prohibitive. My father was out of work from July 2024 until May 2025, which led us to participating in Medicaid and the Free Lunch program at that time. He was able to secure a job in his field as a photo editor, but it is a part time position- he suffers from a heart condition, brought on by contracting Covid in early 2020 and has expensive doctors visits and sometimes struggles to work. My mother teaches low paying dance/drama. Finally, I have had the extra expense (and mental toll) this past year as my gender affirming care was cut from Washington DC, and I’ve had to see establish new, more expensive care in Virginia. As unfortunate as it is, it is inevitable for those who harbor any unique traits or challenges to struggle within our society, simply due to the fact that our society was not structured with them in mind. My initial struggle due to my realization that I was transgender around age 11, as a serious dancer with a dream of becoming a professional ballerina, was life altering. In my mind everything I had dreamed of was forced to come to a grinding halt, as l believed that there was no way I could carry on with my passion for dance if this were to be my new life. It was not until I worked out these complex feelings and started my transition a few years later, I was finally able to return to dance with a fresh start. Although the initial return was undeniably difficult (both from a physical and mental perspective), I kept pushing through and am now proud of my artistic and technical growth over the past couple of years. If it weren't for the endless support and encouragement from my loved ones and instructors, I would have never rediscovered my long-lost passion and found my place in the world. I was finally able to breathe, become my true self, and improve academically, creatively, and socially, despite this adversity. My parents are both professional artists/performers who value activism through their creativity, so my fate to be an artist was sealed before I was born. I plan to become a professional dancer/choreographer by pursuing a BFA in Contemporary Dance, through an audition based, conservatory college program. I will use dance as a medium to continue advocating for the trans community, and show that arts are for everybody. I hope to inspire others who have felt ignored, hurt, or bullied, and bring teachable moments to all who look for guidance or change. I love using dance as a form of expression to share my ideas and views, and to make the world a more accessible and uplifting place would mean that I have accomplished what I have set out to do. My desire to educate people has given me the confidence this school year to step up as a Student Equity Ambassador. This program is reserved for students who want a more diverse and equitable county and will work together to come up with viable solutions to ongoing challenges our community faces. I hope to continue advocating for LGBTQ+ community, so that they can live with dignity and peace, as I believe the fight for equity and inclusivity never truly ends.

My parents are both professional artists/performers, so my fate to be an artist was sealed before I was born, and my parents are my biggest influences. They instilled humbleness, tenacity, ambition, and to also look at myself objectively and be truthful to myself about my abilities. They taught me to go for my dreams, no matter how big. With my neurodivergent tendencies, I always felt different and weird. But with dance, everything shifted. I found people who were just as passionate and excitable. The change was immediate the moment I stepped onto the stage, I truly felt at home for the first time. It was like a light clicked, illuminating only one possible path for me to take on. Dancing since the age of two, all I wanted was to be a professional female ballerina. By the time I was ten years old, I thought that I had the entirety of my life completely figured out, which is why realizing that I was transgender hit me like a ton of bricks. In my mind, everything I had dreamed of was forced to come to a halt, as I now believed that there was no way I could carry on with my passion for dance if this were to be my new life. I subsequently quit, and although I never truly lost my love for dance during this dark period, my brain began to associate it with feelings of gender dysphoria and insecurity, which led me to become repulsed by any mention or memories of it. It was not until I worked out these complex feelings and started my medical transition several years later that I was finally able to return to dance. Although the initial return was undeniably difficult (both from a physical and mental perspective), I kept pushing through and am so proud of my artistic and technical growth since returning. While I feel generally supported by my peers, I do sense a bit of discomfort from some. I acknowledge that many of them have been sheltered from interacting or even seeing people like me, so it is understandable. But I have learned that being true to myself is the most important thing I can do for my own mental health. Being neurodivergent and LQBTQ+, I hope to inspire others who have felt ignored, hurt, or bullied, and bring teachable moments to all who look for guidance or change. As a volunteer Student Equity Ambassador for my county, I work with other students who feel a strong urge to make schools a more diverse and equitable place, by finding viable solutions to ongoing challenges that our community face. Being able to brainstorm with other like-minded students has been incredibly fulfilling. Dance has the ability to teach empathy by making people see things from other perspectives. More importantly, it can encourage others to be more tolerant of different beliefs. I love using dance as a form of expression to share my ideas and views; being able to influence just one person with this love, and to make the world a more accessible and uplifting place would mean that I have accomplished what I have always set out to do. Navigating life as both transgender and neurodivergent has prepared me for the competitive professional world of dance, as I plan on pursuing a BFA in contemporary/modern dance in college, with the hope of being a professional dancer and activist. I sincerely hope that the art that I make and the activism I spread surrounding neurodiversity and LGBTQ+ rights will leave a mark on my peers and the world at large.

Dancing since the age of two, all I wanted was to be a professional female ballerina. By the time I was ten years old, I thought that I had the entirety of my life completely figured out, which is why realizing that I was transgender hit me like a ton of bricks. In my mind, everything I had dreamed of was forced to come to a halt, as I now believed that there was no way I could carry on with my passion for dance if this were to be my new life. I subsequently quit, and although I never truly lost my love for dance during this dark period, my brain began to associate it with feelings of gender dysphoria and insecurity, which led me to become repulsed by any mention or memories of it. It was not until I worked out these complex feelings and started my medical transition several years later that I was finally able to return to dance. Although the initial return was undeniably difficult (both from a physical and mental perspective), I kept pushing through and am so proud of my artistic and technical growth since returning. While I feel generally supported by my peers, I do sense a bit of discomfort from some. I acknowledge that many of them have been sheltered from interacting or even seeing people like me, so it is understandable. But I have learned that being true to myself is the most important thing I can do for my own mental health, and I know I will continue to grow as an artist, student, advocate and friend. As someone who was also diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder, as well as with a few emotional disabilities, I have always felt as though I was different from those around me. It is often quite difficult to function amongst my neurotypical peers, because many of them are uneducated about the struggles that my community and I face. Even though there are some upsides to being neurodivergent, it would be disingenuous to suggest that being non-neurotypical brings more than the desired amount of difficulty into one’s life. Although I do not wish to erase this part of my identity, I do wish that society and the world as a whole was set up with my community in mind. With this in mind, I hope to inspire others who have felt ignored, hurt, or bullied, and bring teachable moments to all who look for guidance or change. As a volunteer Student Equity Ambassador for my county, I work with other students who feel a strong urge to make schools a more diverse and equitable place, by finding viable solutions to ongoing challenges that our community face. Dance has the ability to teach empathy by making people see things from other perspectives. More importantly, it can encourage others to be more tolerant of different beliefs. I love using dance as a form of expression to share my ideas and views; being able to influence just one person with this love, and to make the world a more accessible and uplifting place would mean that I have accomplished what I have always set out to do. Navigating life as both transgender and neurodivergent has prepared me for the competitive professional world of dance, as I plan on pursuing a BFA in contemporary/modern dance in college, with the hope of being a professional dancer and activist. I sincerely hope that the art that I make and the activism I spread surrounding neurodiversity and LGBTQ+ rights will leave a mark on my peers and the world at large.

The way we express and present ourselves to others has a massive influence on how we are viewed and treated, and how we go about our daily lives and activities. Dance has been one of the most defining aspects in my life since I began at age two. I knew pretty much nothing else but dance for the entirety of my pre-adolescence, and I had an incredibly clear vision of remaining the same, young female dancer as I moved down the path of becoming a prima ballerina, which is why the recognition that I was transgender hit me like a ton of bricks. Ballet is notorious for being incredibly gender segregated. Ever since its inception, ballet has been formulated to have males and females perform and train differently from one another. In my mind, everything I had dreamed of was forced to come to a grinding halt, as I now believed that there was no way I could carry on with my passion for dance if this were to be my new life. I subsequently quit dancing altogether, and although I never truly lost my love for dance during this dark period, my brain began to associate it with feelings of gender dysphoria and insecurity, which led me to become repulsed by any mention or memories of it. It was not until I worked out these complex feelings and started my transition a couple years later, I was finally able to return to dance with a fresh start. Although the initial return was undeniably difficult (both from a physical and mental perspective), I kept pushing through and am now proud of my artistic and technical growth over the past couple of years. I am forever grateful for my amazing teachers who have not only affirmed my identity, but who have also trained me and lifted me up to the point where I am ready to pursue a BFA in Contemporary Dance in college, with the hope of becoming a professional dancer and activist. While I feel generally supported, I acknowledge that many people have been sheltered from interacting or even seeing people like me. As someone who was also diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder, as well as a few emotional disabilities, I have always felt as though I was different from those around me. It is often quite difficult to function amongst my neurotypical peers, because many of them are uneducated about the struggles that I and many face. But my desire to educate people on the LGBTQ+ and neurodivergent communities has given me the confidence to step up as a leader and spread that passion to my peers. This year, I was given the amazing opportunity to be an official Student Equity Ambassador. This program is reserved for students who feel a strong urge to make my county a more diverse and equitable place; to work together to find viable solutions to ongoing challenges that those within our community face. I love using dance as a form of expression and advocacy; to share my ideas and views, and I hope to continue advocating for my LGBTQ+ and Neurodivergent community, so that they can live with dignity and peace, no matter what place they hold in the world. I also look forward to a future where society completes the shift to fully supporting and uplifting those with both visible and invisible disabilities. I firmly believe that the fight for equity and inclusivity never truly ends, and to make the world a more accessible and uplifting place would mean that I have accomplished what I have always set out to do.

Dance has been the most defining aspects of my life, and my dreams to be a professional female ballerina were all I knew. By the time I was ten years old, I thought that I had the entirety of my life completely figured out, which is why realizing that I was transgender hit me like a ton of bricks. In my mind, everything I had dreamed of was forced to come to a halt, as I now believed that there was no way I could carry on with my passion for dance if this were to be my new life. I subsequently quit, and although I never truly lost my love for dance during this dark period, my brain began to associate it with feelings of gender dysphoria and insecurity, which led me to become repulsed by any mention or memories of it. It was not until I worked out these complex feelings and started my medical transition several years later that I was finally able to return to dance. Although the initial return was undeniably difficult (both from a physical and mental perspective), I kept pushing through and am so proud of my artistic and technical growth since returning, to where I am now planning on pursuing my BFA in Contemporary Dance in college. While I feel generally supported by my peers, I do sense a bit of discomfort from some. I acknowledge that many of them have been sheltered from interacting or even seeing people like me, so it is understandable. But, going through my transition to be my true self, made me learn that it was the most important thing I could do for my own mental health. I just want to be me (cat loving, Minecraft playing, horror film obsessed) and be accepted for who I am, despite my differences. As a transgender jewish person diagnosis with Autism Spectrum Disorder, my desire to educate people on minority and underserved communities has given me the confidence to step up as a leader and spread that passion to my peers. This year, I was given the amazing opportunity by one of my past schoolteachers to be an official Student Equity Ambassador. This program is reserved for students who feel a strong urge to make our county a more diverse and equitable place, and its purpose is for these students to be able to work together to come up with viable solutions to ongoing challenges that those within our community face. Helping address food insecurity by volunteering at a local food bank during the pandemic was also an incredibly fulfilling experience. In such a scary and unprecedented time, I learned that my volunteering went far beyond distributing food, it was about dignity, empathy, and community. Seeing volunteers and staff working together toward a shared goal created a strong sense of purpose during times when we were social distancing and masked. The gratitude expressed by those receiving assistance left a lasting impression on me. And then to find myself years later on food assistance through the the county free lunch program, I realized how lucky I am that these programs like these are in place, at least for the time being. I hope to continue advocating for my fellow LGBTQ+, Jewish, Neurodivergent communities, so that they can live with dignity and peace, no matter what place they hold in the world. I also look forward to a future where society completes the shift to fully supporting and uplifting minorities and those with both visible and invisible disabilities. I firmly believe that the fight for equity and inclusivity never truly ends.

As a jewish person affected by the stigma of anti-semitism at school, I am extremely moved by Dr. Terry's story of overcoming adversity. Although this is an injustice that directly affected me, it also threatens the security of Jewish people around the world. It's not just confined to extremist circles anymore- it's become more mainstream, in schools, the press, and social media. I'm also transgender and neurodivergent, which has made my life nothing short of colorful. Dance has been one of the most defining aspects in my life, so when I realized I was transgender, it hit me like a ton of bricks. In my mind, everything I had dreamed of was forced to come to a halt, as I now believed that there was no way I could carry on with my passion for dance if this were to be my new life. I subsequently quit altogether, and although I never truly lost passion during this dark period, my brain began to associate it with feelings of gender dysphoria and insecurity, which led me to become repulsed by any memories of it. It was not until I worked out these complex feelings and started my transition a couple years later that I was finally able to return with new confidence. Although the initial return was undeniably difficult (both from a physical and mental perspective), I kept pushing through and am now proud of my artistic and technical growth, and I plan to pursue a BFA in Dance in college and become a professional artist/activist. As someone also diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder, my differences has brought me both struggles and strengths. Although I was not diagnosed until the age of twelve, looking back in hindsight, there were definitely some indicators that were present throughout my early childhood that I was atypical. The experience of receiving a diagnosis was a bit relieving, as I felt that all of the things I had experienced during my life thus far were validated. Despite my school IEP, I need very little academic help. One of my strengths as an autistic individual is that I work very proficiently. I have little to no trouble focusing on my work, and I am able to work independently without any struggle. I do enjoy working with others, and often take positions of leadership when working with a group. For example, I am currently working as the director for a short film in my animation class, and I am quite proud of the initiative I have taken. Although being on the spectrum provides me with valuable strengths, there are still quite a few areas of life that I tend to struggle with. One of the most significant challenges I have dealt with is making and keeping genuine friends. My desires, however, to educate on rights for Jews, LGBTQ+ and neurodivergency has given me the confidence to step up as a leader this year as an official Student Equity Ambassador, where I'm able to connect with more like minded students. This program is reserved for those who feel a strong urge to make ourcounty a more diverse and equitable place, and its purpose is for these students to be able to work together to come up with viable solutions to ongoing challenges that those within our community face. With my art and my advocacy, I hope to keep fighting for rights no matter the religion, gender, sexual orientation, or differences, and I look forward to days in the future where society completes the shift to fully supporting and uplifting minorities and those with both visible and invisible disabilities.

The way we express and present ourselves to others has a massive influence on how we are viewed and treated, and how we go about our daily lives and activities. My identity as both an out-of-the-closet member of the LGBTQ+ community and an artist are heavily intertwined. I have been a dancer for as long as I can remember, and dance has been one of the most defining aspects in my life since I began at age two. I knew pretty much nothing else but dance for the entirety of my pre-adolescence, and I had an incredibly clear vision of remaining the same, young female dancer for the rest of my pre-professional days as I moved down the path of becoming a prima ballerina. By the time I was around ten years old, l thought that I had the entirety of my life completely figured out, which is why the recognition that I was transgender hit me like a ton of bricks about a year later. Ballet, which was the primary genre of dance that I trained in growing up, is notorious for being incredibly gender segregated. Ever since its inception, ballet has been formulated to have males and females perform and train differently from one another. At my original studio, there were practically no boys to speak of, which shielded me from the knowledge that dance was something that could be pursued and enjoyed by anyone, regardless of who they are. It was partially because of this that I had such a strong reaction when I came to understand I was transgender. In my mind, everything I had dreamed of was forced to come to a grinding halt, as l now believed that there was no way I could carry on with my passion for dance if this were to be my new life. Although I had always been an anxious child, my mental health began to decline as thoughts darkened and self harm became the norm, as l didn't know how to deal with these new feelings. I subsequently quit dancing altogether, and although I never truly lost my love for dance during this dark period, my brain began to associate it with feelings of gender dysphoria and insecurity, which led me to become repulsed by any mention or memories of dance. It was not until I worked out these complex feelings and started my transition a few years later, I was finally able to return to dance with a fresh start at a new institution that has helped me grow exponentially. Although the initial return was undeniably difficult (both from a physical and mental perspective), I kept pushing through and am now proud of my artistic and technical growth over the past couple of years. If it weren't for the endless support and encouragement from my loved ones and instructors, I would have never rediscovered my long-lost passion and found my place in the world. I am lucky to be surrounded by mentors who are sensitive to my circumstances and who provide me with affirmation in the dance space, such as using correctly gendered language and being considerate when selecting my costumes for competitions and performances. I am forever grateful for my amazing teachers who have not only affirmed my identity, but who have also trained me and lifted me up to the point where I am ready to pursue a BFA in Contemporary Dance in college. I sincerely hope that the art that I make and the activism I can spread surrounding LGBTQ+ rights will leave a mark on my peers and the world at large.

My parents are both professional artists and performers, so my fate to be an artist was sealed before I was born. With my neurodivergent tendencies, I always felt different and weird. But with dance, everything shifted. I found people who were just as passionate and excitable. Creativity, heart, soul, friendship, kindness, collaboration, courage, and ambition are all essential for a successful artist. The change was immediate the moment I stepped onto the stage, it was like a light clicked, illuminating only one possible path for me to take on. Dance brightens life even in people’s darkest hours. It teaches empathy by making people see things from other perspectives. More importantly, it encourages us to be more tolerant of other people’s opinions beliefs, and identities. I have been a dancer for as long as I can remember, and dance has been one of the most defining aspects in my life since I began at age two. I knew pretty much nothing else but dance for the entirety of my pre-adolescence, and I had an incredibly clear vision of remaining the same, young female dancer for the rest of my pre-professional days as I moved down the path of becoming a prima ballerina, which is why the recognition that I was transgender hit me like a ton of bricks. Ballet is notorious for being incredibly gender segregated. Ever since its inception, ballet has been formulated to have males and females perform and train differently from one another. It was partially because of this that I had such a strong reaction when I came to understand I was transgender. In my mind, everything I had dreamed of was forced to come to a grinding halt, as I now believed that there was no way I could carry on with my passion for dance if this were to be my new life.  I subsequently quit dancing altogether, and although I never truly lost my love for dance during this dark period, my brain began to associate it with feelings of gender dysphoria and insecurity, which led me to become repulsed by any mention or memories of it. It was not until I worked out these complex feelings and started my transition a couple years later that I was finally able to return to dance with a fresh start at a new institution that has helped me grow exponentially. Although the initial return was undeniably difficult (both from a physical and mental perspective), I kept pushing through and am now proud of my artistic and technical growth.  If it weren’t for the endless support and encouragement from my loved ones and instructors, I would have never rediscovered my long-lost passion and found my place in the world. They have not only affirmed my identity, but have also trained me and lifted me up to the point where I am ready to become a contemporary dance major in college and pursue a professional dance career. Being neurodivergent and LQBTQ+, I hope to inspire others who have felt ignored, hurt, or bullied, and bring teachable moments to all who look for guidance or change. I love using dance as a form of expression to share my ideas and views; being able to influence just one person with this love, and to make the world a more accessible and uplifting place would mean that I have accomplished what I have always set out to do. I sincerely hope that the art that I make through dance and the activism I spread surrounding neurodiversity and LGBTQ+ rights will leave a mark on my peers and the world at large.