Dance is my language; the way I communicate without words. I imagine what my life would be like without it. What would I be doing right now? Would I be happy?

My earliest memories of dance did not begin in Costa Rica, where I was born. Costa Rica is made up of blurry pictures and stories, real memories jumbled with imagination. My memories of Florida, on the other hand, are as clear as a pane of glass. I took my first dance class there, where I did not talk to a single person, but found that dancing in front of people was easier. I used to be really shy, and that still sticks with me, but dancing was something that pushed me to be more social. I finally got to fit in, and I had lots of friends and family nearby. When we moved to Washington, I had to say goodbye to the things that gave me comfort, like family, friends and the sun. It felt as though I had been picked up and dropped in a place I didn't belong. Speaking two languages set me apart and made me feel out of place, but with a new state came new schools where my Spanish accent slowly disappeared.

As I navigated a new state, I also took a new dance class at a new studio. It took me a while to make friends at first, but after some time I felt comfortable enough to talk to someone new. That led to dancing in front of a new audience. To this day every time is scarier than the last, but after I get off stage I feel proud. It makes me feel proud not just because I danced, but because of the journey that got me there. I forget about every problem and struggle while I'm on that stage. The blinding lights, adrenaline and the frantic tangle of movements spinning in my head beforehand, and not remembering what happened afterward.

My teachers helped me through every step, and one teacher in particular taught me what real dance was. I finally felt pushed and started to improve. One thing my teacher did that really stood out was give everyone awards. I was called the “Low-key Star.” What was written on the award spoke to me. It said, "I'm waiting for the moment when she realizes how good she is. She is a low-key star that needs to shine and make her appearance in confidence.”

I knew it had to do with my shyness. I wasn’t brave enough to stand in front of the class, and I certainly wasn’t talking to new people. I realized that the only way I would grow as a person was to challenge myself.

Since then I have grown to reach for new goals and to try things that I hadn't done before. At one of my most memorable competitions I got off the stage and felt confident that I had told a story and people knew exactly what I was saying without words. I knew that both of my parents deeply understood what I was saying without the slim language barrier that still existed.

Three different languages and three different worlds shaped me to be who I am, an American. Our stories about coming to America, the languages and cultures we carry with us, are what make up the fabric of America and make us unique. I'm still trying to grab onto the few pieces of thread that knit together my culture and where my family is from. I appreciate the comfort and opportunities that dance has brought to me. Now I have a new way to communicate, a third language, a universal language, and it's called dancing.

© Kayli . All rights reserved. If you are interested in quoting this story, contact the national team and we can put you in touch with the author’s teacher.