Vulnerability: 2/18/26

In promoting my previous community work, I’ve always written short essays. These were typically reflections on my own experiences as a dancer, teacher, and competitor, but other times they were more personal.

Because my life is so embedded in dance, there’s often very little distinction.

Beyond promoting my work, I wanted to help applicants and the community at large to understand the person managing the program and to encourage authentic responses in applications. How could I expect vulnerability without offering any?

***

I’ve always been self-conscious about my smile.

My front two teeth are large and jut slightly forward, which I always associated with the buck-toothed caricatures of Japanese people I saw from racist propaganda. The two teeth to either side are both smaller and sit higher, making the effect even more pronounced. My incisors don’t make contact, so they have the same serration you see before they usually wear down over adolescence. For the same reason, my canines are sharply pointed.

I thought other people must notice this immediately when I opened my mouth. I saw it every time I looked in a mirror— and as a dancer I spend a lot of time looking in mirrors.

Tango was an easy space to perform in without opening my mouth. Smolders were encouraged and if I smiled, it was a close-lipped smirk.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve worked to reframe my smile to myself. I used to self-deprecatingly call it “charmingly irregular”, now just “charming”. What used to be “ridiculous” and “goofy” is “sincere”. I’m working to defang “child-like”, because in many ways I AM child-like.

How is this showing up in my dancing?

I’m allowing myself to smile more, to laugh openly mid-dance, to be photographed in the genuine enjoyment of an activity I’ve spent more than half my life doing.

Don’t get me wrong, I still love a good smolder and I’ll forever be battling my concentration face while improvising in competitions.

But I’m working on it.