Issue link: http://latinschool.uberflip.com/i/1209300
My Story For as long as I can remember, I have loved to dance. Before I solidified my sense of rhythm, I'd haphazardly jump, twirl and step between the beats, becoming the bass drums and hi-tops, the erratic guitar chords, the rambunctious piano keys. I loved the pageantry—the mask of makeup, the gaudy costumes, the fluorescent stage lights. I have always loved to dance, but I have always loathed dancing in front of people. My imagination would run wild with visions of my peers taunting me for not spinning fast enough, jumping high enough or stretching far enough. If they saw me perform and judged me, then I'd have to live with that judgment, go to school with it, eat lunch with it. e fear of failure paralyzed me. It didn't always, though. I remember being in an elevator with two friends discussing our financial eligibility for a scholarship program. "You made that little?" People saw my dad's color-coordinated suits, monochromatic athleisure and endless stream of sneakers, and it cemented their assumptions. I didn't correct them. I preferred to live in the shadow of the image they'd imposed upon me than have them pity me for being poor. It's those elevator moments, though. ey reminded me not to get too comfortable at my private school. I refused to let people weaponize my vulnerability against me, so I tucked it away with a smile and pretended I wasn't hiding anything. Somehow, this emotional reserve dissipated as I strolled out of Kigali International Airport. Despite being 7,698 miles from home, I felt safe. I could wear my bonnet without being judged. I could wear leggings without worrying if my thighs looked too big. In Rwanda I blended in, so much so that people would speak to me in Kinyarwanda. I wished I could've responded to them, taken their perception of my belonging, bottled it up and brought it home. I loved feeling like I had a culture I could grab onto, like I could be myself without worrying about acceptance. ey accepted me before they even knew me. ey accepted me, despite not being able to communicate with me. But, when Jolie, our Rwandan traditional dance teacher, called me up to the front of the room to perform, my stomach dropped. Jolie turned on the music, and with shaky hands and half-filled lungs, I began moving. e dance itself was easy. My body swayed with the warm melody. A wave of calm washed over me as the music swelled, and I mustered a smile as my lungs re-inflated. I felt free. Free from the weight of being one of eight black kids in my grade. Free as one of five million black kids in Rwanda. Dance By Briannah K. Cook '20 After Briannah Cook visited Rwanda during the summer of 2019 with Latin's Global Exchanges program, she decided to incorporate moments from her experience into her college application essay. She plans to go back to Rwanda this summer. Skyline of Kigali, Rwanda. AROUND SCHOOL 14