Dance Mom

I’m a Dance Mom. I help with costumes, make props, take my daughter to dance almost every day, attend competitions and conventions. I do makeup, hair, and I spend so much money on it all.

So much money. Like…

It's a lot.

It’s probably what I’m most worried about being unemployed for the first time in like a decade. I gotta make enough money to keep my daughter in dance. 

In another life, I may have been a dancer myself. I started at age 2 and stopped at about age 6. I LOVED to dance. I still remember exactly which gas station the dance studio was right next to. I remember my teacher’s name (Mrs. Debbie) and I’m prettyyyy sure it was called “Dimensions in Dance” or “Dance Dimensions”. 

Before I started dance classes, I danced at home. I also drew all the time, sang, played with dolls etc. like most kids do. To me, dance was more than something every kid does. Dance is cultural. If I wasn’t dancing in the living to my dad playing Willie Colon, Eddie Palmieri, Hector Lavoe, (Puerto Rican Salsa and Latin Jazz artists) I was joining in dancing at family Christmas parties, birthday parties, weddings… you get the idea. Music and Dancing are inherently intertwined in my cultural identity as a Puerto Rican. It’s no wonder I took to dancing well and became obsessed. 

When I was in 1st grade, my mom made the choice to pursue her masters. We had to live in family housing at the college during the week in a different city about 1.5 hours away from our home. On the weekends we’d go back to our “home home”. Confusing right? We had two homes. An apartment on campus, and a single family home where we normally lived. This meant that I couldn't attend dance classes during the week. The studio owner tried a work around by having me come to classes on Saturdays. We had to come back to our “home home” late Friday nights to make it in time for me to go to dance class on Saturday mornings. 

It didn’t last long. I was doing really well and the teacher wanted me to come in more often to prepare me to join the competition team. Kinda hard to do that when you are 1.5 hours away during the week. 

Next thing I know, I wasn't going to dance classes anymore. I asked my parents over and over why I couldn't go but they never gave me a straight answer. I begged them to put me back into dance classes. Every time I spotted a dance studio I would point it out and ask if I could go there. They still didn't say much.

Eventually I gave up asking. I still loved to dance though. There was no escaping its influence in my life. Soooo….

Dancing alone in my bedroom, boombox blasting, with a lively audience of plushies was just going to have to do. 

Dance remained an interest of mine. I’d try to copy moves I saw in music videos. Obsessed over movies like “Step Up” and “You got Served”. I was a diligent fan of So You Think You Can Dance. As my art passions blossomed, I found it was also fun to draw dancers. 

Watching and “arting” dance helped fill that void because as it turned out, I REALLY don’t like to perform. I hate anything that allows me to be perceived. I began playing piano in middle school, because, of course, I have many interests and I learn things pretty quickly. I loved to play and let loose, getting into the mood with the music. But when it came to do that on stage?? I choked. I would mess up, I would forget my music (because you typically memorize the music you play in a recital). I would get what I would call the “Nervous Poos”. Every. Single. Time. I always felt really vulnerable performing, like too much of myself was out there for everyone to see. Now if I was acting in a church play, that was no problem at all. I was playing a role so I wasn't myself on stage. No one has to perceive the real me (I was so moody). Maybe it was for the better that I never became a “real” dancer. I did do dance recitals, but I don’t remember having that same performance anxiety I do now. 

As an adult, I found out the reason why my parents never put me back in dance: It was too much money. I learned that my parents had to ask my family for help in order to send me to dance in the first place. (I’m forever grateful to this particular family member who was secretly supporting every artistic endeavor of mine, including helping me get my first nice pencil set and sketchbook.)

It sucks to know that something like money is the reason I couldn’t keep pursuing what I really enjoyed (and I don’t blame my parents at all. They did what they had to do). I want to be able to change that for my kids. I want them to have access to pursue and learn whatever they love. 

It wasn't a surprise that my daughter gravitated towards dance. It's in her blood, her culture, her home. I have videos of her dancing every time she heard music as a toddler. It seemed logical to put her in a dance class at 2.5 years old. When she came out of her first recital she was beaming. I asked her if she wanted to take class again and she enthusiastically agreed. She kept agreeing to do it again year after year. Now I have a 9 year old competitive dancer with dreams of becoming a professional dancer, a biologist, a dance teacher, and an artist… No one is telling that girl she can only do one thing. (Girl after my own heart. I don’t want to get stuck doing one thing either. Long live doing all the things)

I started to take dance classes myself at the same dance studio my daughter goes to just for fun. Then I got pregnant with my second daughter and kept dancing through the pregnancy. That girl basically came out of the womb dancing. I may very well have two dancers in this family. 

Double the dance money.

I ain’t got no job, but my man has 2 jobs (actually he has like 10 but I love the chaotic mom from “Everybody hates Chris”)

Dance is beautiful. It’s art. I’m glad my kids enjoy it all on their own. I’m glad I can enjoy watching it and continuing to make art about it. (I have a few dance sketches on my instagram. There is a lot of dance art living rent free in my mind. Someone make it all come out. I need to occupy that space with paying renters.)

But, woof, I need more money. I understand my parents. My wallet understands. 

Where’s the creativity in this post? Maybe it's the look into my life. A little story time. Or maybe there is humor in the desperation of needing work just to fuel my family’s dance habit. 

Where’s my reality show on TLC? 
​
Dance Woes. Follow this mom as she tries a new job every week to earn money for her daughters’ dance classes.

Episode 1: Busking for Bucks.
Dance Mom Katya tries to reignite her dance dreams by performing in the streets. Things go awry once she realizes she has been perceived. 

-Katya
(Video is me and Dance Teacher Ali. She's cool.)