71 You Will Know Us

A few days ago, I went on a writing spree: manually scribbling words down into a notebook as they came to my mind. It felt great, because it's something I haven't done in a while. And because of this, I'm a little rusty: so forgive if the words fall a little harder and harsher than they should.
Credit: Tumblr
People have this idea of what they think ballet dancers look like: tall, skinny, b'tutu-ed, hair in a bun. But what they don't know is that ballet dancers come in all shapes and sizes. How then will you know us? How will you spot one on the streets?
You'll know us by our resilience.
You'll know us by our strength,
to balance on one toe for 32 counts but also to balance that heady line between criticism and critique. You learn to take things in your stride. Pride is for losers. You learn to learn you don't know anything at all. You learn to let your guard down, that that's the only way to dance. A dancer is a myriad of emotions, oh lucky you if you get to witness them all; the sad village girl looping a mad snake dance, the happy one light as a feather who will let you hold her in your arms for a count, the emboldened brazened one who spins like a dervish, dangerous, delightful.
You'll know us by our pain.
Ballet is pain. But ballet is also joy, pure, unadulterated, unfiltered, raw joy.
You'll know it when you see it.
The unedited, happy (even if it doesn't seem like it) thoughts of a ballet dancer at her first class after a hiatus of 3 weeks.

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