It was the child’s first time in a dance studio. The wood floors, silver bars and tall mirrors captivated her. She was one of the few children selected to participate in the after school dance program. How did they know she loved to dance?
The instructor sat the children down in a circle, introduced herself and then politely asked the children to remove their shoes. The young girl panicked. If she removed her shoes, they would learn her secret.
The young girl watched as the other children playfully joined each other and followed the innocent instruction. Their socks were clean. Pretty. What every little girl should have she thought. Her white socks were black with dirt, especially on the bottom, and made for someone much older.
She went to a corner to remove her shoes, angry and afraid. Nobody knew that she dressed herself every morning. That she had never owned her own pair of socks. And that she washed her clothes with an old toothbrush– But, socks especially, were hard to clean that way.
She went to the back of the class that day. Eventually, she would never go back.
Interpretation: This is a true event from my childhood. It is on the verge of overshare for me, but after many attempts to write about something else, this is the story that refused to sit in the corner.
In life, what we have and don’t have access to can impact how we show up in the world. And things that are basic for some, can be monumental for others.
When is a lack of participation a choice, and when is it a necessity to keep us safe. How do we honor the difference?
