Translator: Adrienne Lin Reviewer: Yumeng Guo
Hello everyone.
My name is Fang-Yi Sheu,
and I am a dancer.
I'm from the most beautiful place in the world,
Taiwan.
(Applause)
I don't know how to describe it,
but my heart is beating really fast.
I would rather dance right now
and say nothing if I could.
(Applause)
I am from an ordinary family.
This is our family photo when I was young.
However, it is not quite "completed" yet,
as my younger brother
joined the family 13 years later.
Both my parents
did not receive higher education.
My father only completed primary school,
and my mom graduated from junior high school.
My father started a business from nothing.
It was lucky that when I was born,
my family enjoyed a fairly comfortable life.
But I'll have to say that
I've seen photos of my parents when they were young;
my dad was handsome, and my mom was beautiful.
Yet their kids are so ordinary-looking.
I received the least expectation
among my siblings.
To be honest,
I did poorly in school,
although I studied so, very hard.
I just didn't understand why
I sat in front of my desk for a long time everyday,
but I felt like the books were reading me,
and not the other way around.
Because I had poor grades,
my parents told me,
"You know what?
If you couldn't improve your grades,
you can work in our factory in Yilan
when you grow up,
marry a male worker and give birth to children who will also be a worker."
(Laughter)
When I was little, I often pondered, in a cool pose,
what I want to do when I grow up.
I didn’t dare to have a dream.
I felt like I can't have one;
I didn't dare to have a dream,
because I had poor grades in school, which meant that I had no future.
It changed when I discovered dancing
in my fourth grade.
I enjoyed being on the stage.
It was the best way for me
to escape from reality,
I didn’t want to face the reality off the stage.
I wanted to be on the stage and dance, being different characters,
whether it's "Feng Yang Drums"
or "The Boy Who Cried Wolf".
I could dance as the child herding sheep,
and I loved running around on the stage, having my mouth wide open,
pretending that I was shouting,
“The wolf is coming.”
I could even catch mosquitos with my big mouth.
(Laughter)
But I enjoyed it a lot,
because I could be the boy who herd sheep,
and not Fang-Yi Sheu.
It was until when I went to an art academy
where I met Mr. Ross Parkes.
Mr. Ross Parkes played
an important role
in changing my life.
When I attended his class for the first time,
he said to others that I got great potential.
Although I heard this from someone else,
I was so touched.
Because I thought that no one ever had any expectation from me.
His seeing potential in me
gave me great hope and encouragement.
I told myself
that I would never let him down.
From that day on,
I dared to to have a dream.
I wanted to be a professional dancer.
I arrived in New York 5 years later,
with 2 suitcases in my hands.
As my grades in school were poor, obviously my English was pretty poor.
I flunked my English in freshman year.
So when I arrived in New York,
an electronic translator was essential.
I carried it everywhere,
as if my life was depending on it.
For the first three months, I couldn’t communicate with anyone.
But as dancing expresses through body language,
anything the teacher was demonstrating,
I was able to keep up with the others.
Now, I believe that when you lose a certain ability,
such as the ability to communicate,
or the ability to speak,
your eyes and ears would open up,
big and wide,
and pay full attention to things
through seeing and hearing,
although you couldn't understand much.
One of the things I enjoyed the most
was the breakfast carts in New York.
If you visit New York today, it's still there.
They sell bagels and coffee,
and it was just a wonderful breakfast
for a dollar.
Because my speaking was so poor,
I was always ordering
with "this, this."
Always pointed at what I want.
What made me happy everyday,
was that when I was leaving,
the vendor would say to me,
"Have a nice day."
I was so happy that someone finally talked to me;
I felt like I was connecting to the world.
But I told myself that
I wanted to make the order verbally.
So I started to learn how to do that.
I know my favorite was the cinnamon raisin bagel.
I told myself that
one day I would speak that out
and order it.
So I was practicing at home,
"cinnamon raisin bagel,"
and I liked cream cheese,
"with cream cheese and coffee, please."
I kept going and going,
"cinnamon raisin bagel."
I was sure I got it.
The next morning,
on the way to the breakfast cart,
I kept mumbling
“cinnamon raisin bagel with cream cheese.”
My heart was pounding so fast.
When I got there,
I took a deep breath and...
(Laughter)
I was so upset.
And I kept wondering why --
Why couldn't I just speak that out loud?
But I didn’t give up
and I kept practicing.
It was only one sentence!
And again the next morning,
I was practicing on the way.
My heart was beating crazily fast,
and I looked at the vendor,
and said, "cinnamon raisin bagel
with cream cheese and coffee, please."
My tears were about to come out at that moment,
and I went, "Yes!!"
(Laughter)
(Applause)
Why was that a big "yes" for me?
This might not seem a big achievement,
but it meant a lot to me.
It was a self-accomplishment;
it was my brave act, though tiny.
From that day onwards,
I learned how not to be afraid.
What was I afraid of?
Making mistakes and embarrassing myself.
But, how can I learn if I don’t make mistakes?
We will always remember the embarrassing moment.
The most embarrassing thing,
I think,
is that when you stop learning,
and are unwilling to face difficulties.
From that day onwards,
that was my first brave act.
I was no longer afraid of auditions, failures,
or rejections.
Later, I joined the Martha Graham Dance troupe.
I started as an intern dancer,
and later became a new dancer,
a group dancer, a soloist
to a principal dancer.
In New York, there are many editorials.
Dancers wanted to be in the newspapers.
But they are facing a lot of pressure,
because it might be either positive comments,
or harsh critics.
My family was a big support to me,
but back then,
my parents were opposed to the idea.
Well,
they didn't want me to continue dancing,
because my dad started from nothing, and had a hard life;
he wished all his kids could be teachers,
who can sit in an office and enjoy air conditioning.
So he didn't understand why I chose to be a dancer --
a job so difficult that makes me sweat a lot.
One day, my name was on New York Times.
The bottom part was cut off,
but it was a full page in New York Times.
I took it home
and told my dad,
“Dad, look. I'm in the New York Times.”
He replied, “Oh."
(Laughter)
And his friend said to him,
“All you could say is 'Oh?'
It is the New York Times!
It is not something you can achieve when you just have money.
Your daughter doesn’t have any background or social connections,
she must have worked so hard to achieve this.”
In the end, finally,
my dad simply said,
“Fine, it’s up to you.
If you really want to dance, you can continue to dance.”
From that moment on, he lets me dance.
But what does having my name in New York Times mean?
It was not that I didn’t care about publicity;
I cared more about being able to be on the stage.
This was when the New York Season started.
New York Season is big in the dancing industry.
Every dancer cares about this.
It's just huge.
At the time, I was already in New York Times.
I was also receiving many appraisals.
In my dance troupe, there were many casts
and different castings.
There was a popular dance
that had six continuous shows.
And when I saw the list of casts --
it felt like I was in school again --
I only got to dance for two of the six shows.
I was so devastated,
and feeling so upset.
I rushed down from the rehearsal room
on the 8th floor,
and called Mr. Ross Parkes using a public phone.
I asked, “Sir, why is this happening?
I thought I was the best.
Everyone said I am the best,
that I am a star.
Why then?
If I am the best,
why am I not getting more shows?”
I could not understand it and I couldn’t accept it.
He told me that it was the reality.
By reality,
I think he meant life.
There will never be an answer
that satisfies everyone.
So I went back home.
I still couldn’t understand why.
I didn’t think it was fair.
I kept crying and crying.
My mind was filled with hatred,
lots of anger,
frustration,
and felt it was so unfair.
After that one good cry,
I got up early the next morning,
and went straight to the classroom with my bag.
Why did I choose to go to the classroom?
Why was I different overnight?
It was because that I thought,
when I was in a vulnerable position,
I didn’t have the right to complain,
or to cry.
Others can choose not to give me more opportunities,
but I can’t give up on the ones I already have.
I didn't want to give up.
Even if I would only dance for two shows,
I wanted the audience to be proud
of watching my dance.
I didn't have shows more than that of others.
I would do my best no matter what.
The best way to do so,
was to put together what I have got --
my energy, my heart -- everything I could offer.
I had nothing else.
What could I possibly want?
No one could dance for me on the stage.
It's not something that powers or connections
can help me with.
The only one who can help me is myself.
I chose not to give up
even if I only had two shows.
Even if I had only two shows,
I was going to enjoy to its fullest.
It was my performance,
and I wanted to make the audience proud.
After that, I felt that,
to me personally,
giving up is never easy.
On the contrary,
for me,
giving up is something that needs to be learned.
Because when you choose to give up,
it's like slapping yourself in a way,
"What about your aspiration and beliefs?
What about your determination?"
Giving up isn't easy at all.
I spent 19 years --
finding out at 19
that my first dream ever
is to be a professional dancer.
And spent another 19 years
to decide I wanted to continue dancing.
I have never dared to imagine
my name on a magazine,
not to mention being in the special feature.
Later when I returned to Taiwan,
Ms. Lee dictated this book for me:
“Dare to be Different."
I love the name of the book,
but I keep asking myself,
"Am I really not afraid of anything?"
Actually I am still afraid
of all sorts of things.
I was afraid in the backstage just then;
I was afraid when I was in New York,
when I was at the customs, or on the plane.
I was afraid when auditioning, when ordering a “cinnamon raisin bagel."
The thing that I'm super good at, though,
is faking bravery.
Through faking to be brave,
I am learning to actually be brave.
It is fascinating how a little bit of courage
can encourage us to do many things.
So, how am I different?
In many ways, I am.
I am not as smart as other people,
and I look very different
from the others.
Well, for starters, I have a big forehead.
I have been ashamed of my appearance
as my friends used to tell me,
"You look so weird!
People will never forget your face
because you look like E.T."
Later on, I wasn't at all bothered by this
as I thought it made me stronger in some way.
Better yet,
the audience would come to me and say,
"Fang-Yi,
do you know you are truly shining on the stage?"
I figured out it was because my forehead reflects light better.
I loved my big forehead afterwards. (Laughter)
So many differences --
different mindsets, thoughts
and different approaches to things.
My ways of achieving my goals
might look dumb to others,
but at least I'm achieving them.
The biggest difference, I think,
is that many people are dreamers.
Most of the people are thinking about their dreams,
but not many actually execute them,
or make them come true.
Don't stop at making dreams,
but make them come true.
What makes me feel the luckiest
is the family education since young age,
and my siblings and I were plain and ordinary.
So I always have to work harder, step by step.
I really like the title of the book.
I'm not afraid to be different.
I am Fang-Yi Sheu.
"Dare to be different."
My name is Fang-Yi Sheu.
Thank you.
(Applause)
[Choreographer and performer: Fang-Yi Sheu]
[Composer and vocalist: Wu Man]
(Singing)
(Singing ends)
(Applause)