It was and still is the one thing that makes me feel the most myself…the most alive. Dance offers the gift of being deeply seen, a way to process emotions, a never-ending challenge, an escape.

Surrounded by dancers, from all over the globe—New York locals, talents from Baltimore, Brazil, Eastern Europe, Japan, and beyond—I found a surrogate family in the studio. As a child among them, my youth seemed to bring joy to many who were far away from home. The dancers became my guardians; they nurtured me and supported my development.

How does dance make me feel? Is it even a feeling, or is it a moment, a dream, a reality? I only know that I am myself fully when I am onstage dancing. That’s where I feel safe and right at home.

Dance is power personified. My hope is that the next generation of dancers can start where I’ve arrived: knowing that our art form gives us the tools we need to acknowledge we are important and we belong.

My dance journey has been inspired by countless performances and artists, each providing a unique perspective. But all roads, no matter how beautiful, are fraught with challenges, and I faced two great ones throughout my career. The first was my recovery from a torn ACL during a performance—an ordeal that challenged me physically and mentally long after my surgery and rehab.

“You made me a better artist. I felt like I made better work after I was a mother. I realized that it’s not just about me—there are bigger things. Having a child makes you see that fast.”

Every job I take on is a way for me to learn more about dance, movement, and my relationship to them. Dance is truly the longest and most stable relationship I’ve ever had. She has been there for me during my highest of highs and my lowest of lows.

The dances I perform exist as companion spaces and as alternate universes that I can dwell in and move inside of to escape and project into imagined realms. They are constructed environments to explore visual images and my energetic presence, and to propose new ideas for the physical body.