dance came naturally to me because of all the gymnastics I’d done.
To make “Ko Jun Dak” work, I needed a costume that looked both strong and graceful. The next time we visited the Theatrical Shop, I picked out a metallic gold fabric that would move like the scales on a dragon. Marina used it to make me a tank top with long fitted pants. Wearing them, I knew my routine would look amazing.
But not everyone agreed with me.
Immediately after I performed “Ko Jun Dak,” one of the Applause judges signaled Michael over to the judges’ table. That’s never a good sign. I could tell Michael was getting annoyed, but I couldn’t hear what she was saying. Then she started making big, angry gestures with her hands and called my mom over.
Uh-oh , I thought. This wasn’t good. What did I do? Could I have broken some rule? Forgotten my choreography? I tried to replay the performance in my head, but I couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong. Instead, I sat there waiting nervously. Scores aren’t announced until the end of the entire competition, and this was only day one, so I had a long wait ahead of me.
When Mom and Michael returned, they both tried to pretend everything was fine, but I could see their pursed lips and frowny foreheads. Something was definitely wrong.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Nothing,” Mom said. “You’re fine. Perfect, as a matter of fact.”
Michael nodded vigorously.
But if I hadn’t done something wrong, why had they argued with the judge? No matter how much I asked, they wouldn’t say anything. It wasn’t until years later that Mom finally told me the truth.
The judge had given Michael a note. It read:
Be careful when you’re costuming him. He’s a boy, and I’m sure he’s embarrassed to be seen in this.
Even now, it makes me angry.
I’m really glad Mom and Michael didn’t show me that note. It’s hard enough being a male dancer around people not in the dance world. Other kids could be mean when they found out. The last thing I needed was for another dancer—an adult, even!—to make fun of me in the same way. And it was even worse because I was proud of my costume. Seeing that note would have crushed my confidence, which is the worst thing you can do to a young artist. Or to any kid, for that matter. If we don’t believe in ourselves, how can we ever become the people we want to be?
For boys who want to be dancers or actors, this kind of thing is all too common. All I can say is this: it’s happened to every male actor or dancer at some point in their lives, so we’re in good company. Theater, dance—all the arts, really—they’re about emotion, and there’s a lot of people out there who think boys shouldn’t show emotion, which sounds sad to me. I ignore them as much as I can.
Just to be clear: it’s not easy for girls who want to make it as performers either. There will always be haters, and you’ve just got to prove them wrong.
I won First Place Overall at the competition, and when I accepted that trophy, I wasn’t embarrassed about my outfit at all.
But even as I was winning trophies and coming into myself as a person, something was on the horizon that would change everything. Soon, I wouldn’t be dancing in competitions anymore. In fact, my whole world was about to change.
And not for the better.
Chapter 4
The Diagnosis
E ver have one of those days when it feels like you wake up in the morning as yourself, but by the time you go to bed you’re a completely different person? A day that throws everything into chaos, and leaves you scared to wonder what’s going to happen next?
October 14, 2004, was that day for me.
If my life were a movie, there would have been a huge thunderstorm that morning, with a lot of lightning across the sky. Or I’d have woken up to some scary omen, like a big black crow sitting on my windowsill. Instead, the morning was cool, crisp, and sunny: a perfect fall day. I loved Iowa City on days like that. Dad
To make “Ko Jun Dak” work, I needed a costume that looked both strong and graceful. The next time we visited the Theatrical Shop, I picked out a metallic gold fabric that would move like the scales on a dragon. Marina used it to make me a tank top with long fitted pants. Wearing them, I knew my routine would look amazing.
But not everyone agreed with me.
Immediately after I performed “Ko Jun Dak,” one of the Applause judges signaled Michael over to the judges’ table. That’s never a good sign. I could tell Michael was getting annoyed, but I couldn’t hear what she was saying. Then she started making big, angry gestures with her hands and called my mom over.
Uh-oh , I thought. This wasn’t good. What did I do? Could I have broken some rule? Forgotten my choreography? I tried to replay the performance in my head, but I couldn’t figure out what had gone wrong. Instead, I sat there waiting nervously. Scores aren’t announced until the end of the entire competition, and this was only day one, so I had a long wait ahead of me.
When Mom and Michael returned, they both tried to pretend everything was fine, but I could see their pursed lips and frowny foreheads. Something was definitely wrong.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Nothing,” Mom said. “You’re fine. Perfect, as a matter of fact.”
Michael nodded vigorously.
But if I hadn’t done something wrong, why had they argued with the judge? No matter how much I asked, they wouldn’t say anything. It wasn’t until years later that Mom finally told me the truth.
The judge had given Michael a note. It read:
Be careful when you’re costuming him. He’s a boy, and I’m sure he’s embarrassed to be seen in this.
Even now, it makes me angry.
I’m really glad Mom and Michael didn’t show me that note. It’s hard enough being a male dancer around people not in the dance world. Other kids could be mean when they found out. The last thing I needed was for another dancer—an adult, even!—to make fun of me in the same way. And it was even worse because I was proud of my costume. Seeing that note would have crushed my confidence, which is the worst thing you can do to a young artist. Or to any kid, for that matter. If we don’t believe in ourselves, how can we ever become the people we want to be?
For boys who want to be dancers or actors, this kind of thing is all too common. All I can say is this: it’s happened to every male actor or dancer at some point in their lives, so we’re in good company. Theater, dance—all the arts, really—they’re about emotion, and there’s a lot of people out there who think boys shouldn’t show emotion, which sounds sad to me. I ignore them as much as I can.
Just to be clear: it’s not easy for girls who want to make it as performers either. There will always be haters, and you’ve just got to prove them wrong.
I won First Place Overall at the competition, and when I accepted that trophy, I wasn’t embarrassed about my outfit at all.
But even as I was winning trophies and coming into myself as a person, something was on the horizon that would change everything. Soon, I wouldn’t be dancing in competitions anymore. In fact, my whole world was about to change.
And not for the better.
Chapter 4
The Diagnosis
E ver have one of those days when it feels like you wake up in the morning as yourself, but by the time you go to bed you’re a completely different person? A day that throws everything into chaos, and leaves you scared to wonder what’s going to happen next?
October 14, 2004, was that day for me.
If my life were a movie, there would have been a huge thunderstorm that morning, with a lot of lightning across the sky. Or I’d have woken up to some scary omen, like a big black crow sitting on my windowsill. Instead, the morning was cool, crisp, and sunny: a perfect fall day. I loved Iowa City on days like that. Dad
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