Lookism: What Am I Even Doing?

How We Met

M = MC's Mother

D = MC's Father

(M)

Ever since I was a baby my mother would bring me to her classes. Her mother before her was a ballet instructor but there was something about the rigidness of ballet that she didn't connect to. So she taught everything else. On Mondays I'd be exposed to high beat jazz funks. Tuesdays were for the contemporary addicts. Wednesdays were for the sexy dancers. And the weekends...well, they were for people like me.

My whole childhood was built on The Fugees, Destiny's Child, Spice Girls, and the Backstreet Boys. Girl, when I tell you I used to be smooth with it, I mean I was smooth with it. Back then there was nothing else to it but plain old fun. By the time I was six I was dancing with the rest of the cool folk like my mom.

On good days we would just blast music on for the last thirty minutes of class and dance around each other. Oh, how they would crowd me and cheer me on as I would give it my all. Now those were the good days.

My grandma was a strict old woman who hardly came around even on the holidays but as soon as she heard I could dance, she crawled out whatever hole she lived in.

Some people are more quiet than others so I didn't pay much attention as she watched us in the corner of the room. I can still remember it now, how she looked at me. She sat there with her cane extended in front of her, her eyes so thin I didn't know if she'd fallen asleep.

After class Mom and her got into a big fight. Mom was plenty happy with the way things were but she saw something in me. She said I had potential to be something great unlike "her". Even back then I knew what disappointment sounded like. Grandma hated what my mom had become.

I think my mom held onto that. She told me that she didn't mind Grandma not approving of her life but that was untrue. You should've seen how sad she looked after another failed attempt of trying to get her to come over for dinner. I'd watch from the corner of the doorways with a heavy heart.

So when my Grandma asked to take me away, Mom said if I wanted to. I didn't want to. I really didn't want to but I knew what Mom went through all on her own. She might not think so but she still wanted her mother's approval. Who wouldn't? So that's why I went.

If only she had fought for me. If only she asked me what I really wanted.

Soon enough I became a slave to my Grandma. There was a diving elegance in Ballet but it wasn't for me. It was something I understood quite quickly. Just like my mother I hated it required perfection. The strict posture. The tightness in my chest.

But regardless how much I hated it, I kept walking forward. This is what my life had become and it was too far for me to turn back.

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(D)

Both my parents met here in the US but separated when I was 10. Your uncle was thirteen at the time so he understood it a bit better than I did. Life was better here for my Dad. Life was better in Korea for my mom. Both of them had very different upbringings in Korea and while my grandparents on her side weren't CEO's, they had good stable jobs while all my Dad had was a dream.

Love can only delay the inevitable for so long.

After my Mom and Brother left we found it hard to pay for the bills. We ended up moving into a small basement room underneath a boxing gym. Something my dad always felt so guilty about. He had no reason to. As a ten year old kid it was like a dream come true.