University of Chicago

As I write this, my hip brace is digging into my ribs. My crutches rest beside me, steely reminders of my crippled state, and the surgical scars on my hip are scabbing an ugly mauve. For weeks, well-meaning strangers have commented variations of, “That must have been some accident.” Little do they know my injury is not the result of a mishap, but of years spent pushing my body to the limit, a lifelong pursuit of something I love. That pursuit began at age two with a pastel leotard and teensy bunny-print ballet slippers. Although my early dance classes consisted of jerky pliés and skipping, I…