As I stand behind the curtain, the lights go out and time stops right in its tracks. My mind goes blank as the darkness engulfs me. I try to maintain my balance but I can barely see my feet shifting back and forth on the floor. I stand there helpless, because there is no way to escape this moment. Time is frozen, with me right in it. But, as soon as the curtain rises and the first note plays, everything changes in the blink of an eye. The butterflies inside my stomach vanish and I feel like I can do anything. In front of hundreds of people, I dance and dance as if I forgot anyone was even watching in the first place. Why have I always been so confident when I am on stage, yet get so nervous when I have to give a presentation in school or talk to a stranger? This question, I constantly asked myself.

I have always labeled myself as “introverted”— feeling anxious about speaking in front of a large group of people, keeping to myself, talking quietly. I have opinions and ideas to share with others, but am nervous about what they might think. I could feel so prepared to talk about a topic, yet when the moment comes, I totally blank and stumble on every word, struggling to form a simple sentence.

In sixth grade, I was extremely shy. Starting in a brand new environment and feeling pressured by new responsibilities, I felt this label controlling me more and more. After the first few weeks of school, an audition form to try out for the school’s dance company caught my eye. There was no way I was as good as the high school girls, but I worked up the courage to go. As the youngest there, I hid in the comfort of the back corner, not saying a word until the teacher called me and a few girls to the front to do improv (where a song is played and we are supposed to create whatever movements come to mind). My heart was pounding in my head as the color on my face changed from pale to a panicked, warm red. The only thing on my mind was all of the eyes glued on me, but when the music began, that no longer seemed to matter. The music took over my body as I turned and leaped; and even though I definitely tripped a few times, the weight of my insecurities lifted. All of a sudden, clapping overtook the room. I could hardly believe it — everyone was cheering for me.

That moment was when I first knew that there was more to me than just being the “quiet” person afraid to step out of her shell. As I learned more steps and styles, I created a whole new language for me to communicate with. A language that consists of zero words. The opportunity to choreograph dances when I reached high school also allowed me to have a conversation with the audience and show more of the “me” that had been waiting to be unleashed.

Now, almost seven years later, dance has become my second voice. The voice that gives me the confidence I need to reach out of my comfort zone, speak in front of others, and face the music. Pun intended. In dance class, I no longer hide in the back, hoping no one notices me. I stand in the front row in the studio and, when I see the new sixth graders standing where I used to be, I feel a sense of responsibility to be a role model and reassure them that hard work really does pay off.

Introverted versus extroverted, do these labels really matter? I may still be “quiet” but I no longer confine myself to the status quo of being an introvert. Dance lifts these labels and connects everyone together. With dance, I can be totally myself yet feel like someone brand new at the same time, as I transform under the bright stage lights. My new voice has given me an unbreakable confidence to tackle nerve- wracking situations and let others know who the real me is. I cannot stop and keep my perspective locked on what another person thinks about me, and with dance, I can block out all of the negative energy that surrounds me. Finding this new voice inside has made me understand that I can be anyone and anything I want to be, and that is truly empowering.