My Journey of Rhythm and Identity
Dance has always been more than just a movement of the body, or a tool for decorating music; it’s a celebrated art form, a language, and for me, a pathway to self-discovery. For me, dance constitutes a great part of my identity, and a bridge connecting me to a world of culture—whether that is my inherited ethnicity, Korean heritage, or others that I aspire to explore—and creativity. This journey has not always yielded the good, and definitely has not always been linear or easy. But that’s what makes dance so incredibly special to me—something that I genuinely love, from the bottom of my heart.
During the COVID-19 pandemic, I found myself at an impasse. Globally, citizens were bound and hidden in their homes; like many others, I was stuck at home, unable to pursue the extracurriculars that once fueled my young passion and defined so much of who I was, like musical or swimming. It was nothing but disorienting, and I felt myself being torn away further from who I was. I felt as though I was losing my sense of direction and, with it, my identity. But what I did not realize was that the universal challenge also became an unexpected gift of mine. The standstill—through the goods and countless bads—led me to discover new experiences (the last thing I could have thought would ever happen to me) and gain knowledge that I wouldn’t have sought otherwise.
One of those discoveries came through countless hours of scrolling through YouTube. What started out as a harmless search for K-pop entertainment quickly exploded into a total YouTube addiction. And there I was, clicking video and video, so impassioned about watching vines and “try not to laugh” videos about my favorite idols, only to end up stuck in professional dance videos and tutorials, just imagining myself performing in front of everyone I know. These videos didn’t just entertain me; they mark the beginning of my exploration into dance as a cultural phenomenon—I really didn’t deserve the numerous hours of scolding for my YouTube addiction because, really, it turned out for the good. The intricate choreography and storytelling in those performances were mesmerizing, granting me not only the ability to stress-relieve, but convey emotion and tradition. Inspired by this, I decided to take a big step and began my formal journey in dance by taking classes at 1MILLION Dance Studio.
Dance has molded me in ways I couldn’t have ever imagined. It’s not just about posting my progress on social media, perfecting movements, or performing on stage; it’s about connecting with a part of myself that feels alive with expression and storytelling—especially if that is connecting with my Korean heritage. The cultural nuances I’ve touched upon along the way, whether that was the countless hours I’ve invested on YouTube exploring K-pop’s dynamic styles or other dance traditions, have enriched my perspective on identity, guiding me, who felt so disoriented, back on-track.
My sixth-grade self, who once felt unathletic and untalented, would be surprised by my deep dedication to dance, now unwilling to let a day pass without it. Four years into dancing, I sometimes doubt my passion, influenced by discouraging and unwelcome opinions of others. “Dance won’t give you a future.” “Dance is only temporary.” Despite these challenges, I persist, driven by a belief not just in dance itself, but in a broader optimism. I find solace in the idea that things will improve, affirming that there is indeed light at the end of the tunnel.
