Just like anything in life, we all need something to call our own. Sometimes it’s the purchases we make or the friends we meet, but for me, it’s dance. Although multiple people join me in dance, it’s something I still like to call my own. It’s a big part of who I am, and I can’t picture a life not growing up in love with dance.

I often tell people that without dance, I wouldn’t be the person I’ve become today. Ballet has always been a part of my life—only in the fall of 2023 did I realize that ballet was my passion. Although I grew up dancing, once I devoted myself to ballet, it changed me.

My schedule is tightly packed, with schoolwork, band, photography, and ballet. I usually get home late at night, scrambling to do my homework, complete my chores, and still sleep at a decent time, which rarely happens.

In reality, as much as I love ballet, it demands more from me than I realize. It’s challenging for non-ballerinas to understand how difficult it is to deal with the mental and physical aspects of what we do.

Ballet gives me strength that I would not be able to build anywhere else because it requires physical and mental strength. I’ve always believed that nothing could ever hurt me as much as ballet does because of the training I’ve had to endure; it teaches you valuable lessons.

It’s easy to compare what others have that you don’t, but it takes understanding that it wasn’t given to them but that they earned it. To do anything in life that looks effortless, you have to want it badly.

Aside from mental strength, I’ve developed physical strength. Once I realized that it would benefit me to do at least 30 minutes of extra practice or a workout, I haven’t stopped since.

Every weekday—whether it’s Pilates, strength training, or just movement—I dedicate myself to it, not because I have to, but because I know I must. Ballerinas are athletes, so we must train, eat, and sleep like one. I have improved significantly in just four months, and it’s been incredibly rewarding.

In some cases, due to long hours, I have faced injuries due to a lack of strength and improper rest and recovery. I have a hard time giving myself permission to take breaks because I worry about falling behind. As it is, I already feel behind on my performance abilities.

Spending long hours staring at the mirror, comparing and being compared, I sometimes find myself wanting to be another dancer in a different body. Especially when toxic ballet culture becomes so normalized, like extreme dieting, body shaming, and ignoring injuries. Like most ballerinas, we tend to chase the perfection of an art form that can be impossibly difficult to attain.

I have worked tirelessly for hours every day to get to where I am, and sometimes it still doesn’t feel like enough; I’m afraid it never will. Despite the struggles I face, it will still be worth it in the end, because no matter how much it pushes me to my limits, it also makes me who I am.

Still, I carry a deep sense of humility because I know what it feels like to be the worst in the room. I’ve sacrificed a lot to pursue ballet, and I’ve learned to show up for myself in ways I never thought I could. It’s the most significant promise anyone can make to themselves: perseverance and discipline.

Close to giving up, dancing helps me connect with my mind, body, and spirit. I feel a deep sense of peace and joy when I dance, not only fulfilling my desire for perfection, but also glorifying God. I wouldn’t have the gift of dancing without Him, so I strive to work hard and fulfill my purpose.

This purpose comes alive in what I like to call the gray box—the room where I dance. My studio is my second family, which makes it a safe place to express myself confidently and to be rooted in where I am. Not only that, but the other dancers I’m surrounded by continuously bring joy into my life.

My director, Gypsy Hall, and her daughter, professional ballerina Amanda Hall, are deeply committed to their work. Seeing them work so hard for the studio despite difficulties, whether it’s working with students, managing parents, or running the business, their dedication never wavers, and it’s really inspiring. 

During class, they’re always encouraging, even when I’m frustrated. It’s easy to feel like they don’t care, but I know they want the best for me and recognize my potential. They never fail to remind me of that, and I feel blessed to train with them every day.

When you’re constantly chasing a perfection that never feels like enough, it can be challenging to see how far you’ve come. Once you step back and value the consistency in the little things you’ve done, it’s hard not to find yourself feeling a greater sense of gratitude. It’s incredibly fulfilling to work on something for a long time and finally see the results of it.

A lot of the time, I think about how much I allow dance to consume me when I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. I pour everything I have into dance because I have a dream to become a principal ballerina, just like any little girl does. For me, it’s more than just a childhood dream; it’s my purpose.

Throughout my life, I’ve always known that this is what I wanted to do, and I am certain it’s what I am meant to do. I will continue to strive for unattainable perfection every class, every day. In the end, I will look back and be proud of all the hard work I have poured into my training. I look forward to achieving my dream, all for the glory of God.

Gallery • 3 Photos

Evan Omana

Gianna Medina posing on her toes and looking off in the distance as she holds onto the pillar.