It was the fall of 2015 when I was first introduced to the reality TV show Dance Moms. The show centered around a group of competitive dancers ages 7-13, and their stressful lives that were not made any easier by their demanding and strict dance teacher, Abby Lee Miller. I absolutely loved that show, but it’s not for the reason that most people would think. Usually, people like Dance Moms for its drama and the conflict between the kids, their moms, and Abby. However, I love Dance Moms for the beautiful and graceful dances that the kids dance at the different competitions they go to each week. But inside of me, a dark sadness was growing, a sadness that had been buried for a long time before: the reality that I could never afford dance classes and dance like I dreamed to.

Ever since I was a little girl, I loved to dance. The sad reality of it was that, for one, I was a terrible dancer, and two, my family couldn’t afford dance classes. I looked up a lot of different programs at places that most people never even heard of, but I never told my parents because I knew they would never agree to me going to a 16 week program, once a week, for $450 dollars. They also wouldn’t agree to me going to so many places at once, with school on the weekdays, a scholarship program two or three times a week, and homework on Sundays. My mother would always tell me to focus on school. Even though I disagree, she consistently says that I will have my whole life for fun and games, but only if I do a little hard work now. My argument towards the fact that I only get to experience my childhood once are continuously ignored. She would never agree to dance classes.

Every time I think about this, I try to persuade myself that my mom doesn’t think dance is important, and that is why she will refuse to consider it if I ask her. However, I know in my heart that my family will just use that as an excuse to not let me apply, but the truth is that they know they can’t afford it. It is true that both of my parents work and that we have an apartment that is larger than that of others, but we also have our problems. Too many bills to catch up on. Father can’t work because of his health problems. Grandparents to send money to at home. Rent. Food. Clothes. Internet bills. Phone bills. Money needed to buy stuff for school. Computer ink. Not enough money coming in from my mom’s job as a teacher. A thousand other problems that I don’t even know how to name, but my point is, money just ends of flying up, up, and away.

However, my mom tries her hardest for me not to notice these problems. It’s not like in my household, there is no food in the kitchen, or my clothes are all ripped or ragged, or the water never runs, or that there are all of those issues that clearly say “Help. I’m poor.” I will be quite honest with you, I am not poor. But I also know that I am not that rich as to pay for $450 classes. Even if no one tells me there are money problems, I know the problems exist from the scrunched eyebrows on bill payday, and the fact that both my parents only have a limited amount of clothes in their closet, the fact that my mom is always fighting to get the afterschool and summer programs because that means an extra chance to earn money, my dad’s anger when his work schedule is reduced to one shift instead of two, and all those other tiny hints that lead to that burden resting in the hearts of millions of people in the world: there are money problems.

Even though I don’t want money to be a problem for me, I care about it not being a problem for those around me even more, especially when it comes to my cousin. My cousin, who has just recently turned three years old, loves to dance. She is like a mini me, only more dramatic and stuck in a different generation. As immigrants, her family isn’t too familiar with all the amazing opportunities NYC has to offer. Not only that, but it is also upsetting that her parents have money problems too, just like mine. When I was younger, I didn’t have an older sibling, cousin, or friend that told me that I can go to dance classes like I saw other kids go to on TV. Now that my cousin has someone that knows about all of these opportunities, in other words, me, I don’t want her to miss out on them because of money problems. Why can’t we both live in a world where we live, fly, and dance to our own heart’s content, without having to worry about a few pieces of green paper?