Transcriber: Tanya Cushman Reviewer: Rhonda Jacobs
"When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be."
This is a quote by Lao Tzu.
I am Miko, and I am a ballerina,
but today I'm not going to talk about being a ballerina,
but about my journey of rediscovery and reinvention.
This quote is an encompassing concept of my journey,
which, believe it or not,
starts right here at this very theater
17 years ago.
I remember sitting way in the back - actually on a booster seat
because I wasn't quite tall enough to see the stage -
and being so mesmerized by the beautiful ballerinas
of the Mariinsky Theatre from Russia.
I remember them doing their beautiful arabesques,
their beautiful bourrées
and just even looking up at my mom and seeing her smile at the stage.
When I left this theater,
I thought to myself, "I want to become a ballerina."
I was four years old at the time,
and this was when I first started to identify as a ballet dancer.
So I started to train and train and train.
Fast forward, when I was 11,
my training had wrapped up to the point where I started to have to miss school.
So I dropped out of public school and enrolled in online school
to be able to accommodate my training and traveling schedule.
I was a little bit sad at the time
because I loved my friends and my teachers at school,
but I knew that sacrifices had to be made to become the best.
A little bit later on, about a year later,
I was training in New York City at the American Ballet Theater
for their summer intensive.
It was a six-week long course,
and at the end of the six weeks, they gave me a book:
"The Healthy Dancer."
Upon opening this book,
I was mesmerized
by how the different tendons, bones and muscles of the body
work together to make our bodies move,
to make me able to dance.
And I didn't know it at the time,
but this was when my love for the workings of the human body really started.
A few years later,
I participated in the Moscow International Ballet Competition,
held in Russia.
Much like the Olympics, this competition is held every four years
and participants train for years
to be able to participate in this competition.
And this was a defining moment in my life.
(Video) (Music from "Paquita")
It may not look like it,
but I was so nervous during this performance.
Everything had been perfected,
from the rhinestones on my tutu
to how my pinkie finger was placed at every moment.
That was the actual tutu that I wore on that stage.
I remember standing back stage -
here's the wing, that's the stage -
and feeling my palms clammy,
my heart pounding
and my stomach clenched like a ball.
But this was all intentional
because from past experiences performing,
I had realized that the combination of fear and excitement
actually allowed me to perform at my best.
And although it wasn't the most enjoyable to be so nervous,
it paid off because I ended up winning the gold medal,
and not only that, but just dancing my very best,
which was kind of rare.
So when I won gold, I felt the pressure increase.
My Instagram started to get hundreds of thousands of followers,
and my YouTube videos, which my mom had uploaded,
started to garner millions of views.
I felt people watching me
to see what I would do next and where I would go next.
But what I did next -
or actually, what my body did next is something I wish no one saw:
puberty.
(Laughter)
We all go through it,
but it was especially hard for me to see my body change and grow,
and this was when my eating problems started
and where I started to restrict what I ate.
And I didn't know it at the time,
but this is when my journey started to go downhill.
But I kept going,
and I set up to audition for ballet companies around the world.
When I was 17, I got a contract to the Birmingham Royal Ballet
located in England.
Upon joining this company,
I was thrilled to be surrounded by incredible people in an amazing company.
But my inner demons were eating me up from the inside.
I remember one of my really good friends asking me during this time - and he said,
"Are you living the dream?"
And although my mouth said yes - to avoid further discussion -
every other fiber in my body was screaming, "No, this is not it."
But I kept this all to myself and didn't tell anybody.
But my self-esteem had been going down, down, down,
to the point where I was bingeing and purging so many of meals,
and I knew I was in real danger
when the thought of self-harm
was more appealing than the thought of continuing in this career.
Because I knew I would not be satisfied both mentally and physically
if I kept going in this career,
but I was scared of disappointment,
not only disappointment with myself
but for my family, who had invested so much,
my teachers, who had trained me for the last 10 years of my life,
and my supporters that I had gained from around the world.
So I kept going,
but the downward spiral continued.
I was in Japan, training, a little bit later that year.
We were doing a normal ballet class - just like an hour and a half -
and at the end of this class, we were doing little pas de chats,
and while I was doing these little pas de chats - crack.
I feel my right foot go numb, and as I take a step,
I know right away that something's not right.
When I see the doctor the next day,
he tells me that I've broken my second metatarsal
and that I would have to take two months off.
Now, two months doesn't seem like that long of a time,
but for me, I was like, "Two months?
I haven't taken more than a week off in the last seven years of my life,
let alone two months."
But during this time of rest, reflection and rediscovery,
I felt my identity as a ballerina slowly melting away.
And surprisingly,
I felt an empowering sense of relief
because I finally felt like I had the time to step away from the ballet bubble
and see what I really wanted to do.
Why was I doing ballet?
Was it for the performance, for the studio time?
For me, for others?
And as I went down this trail of thought,
I realized I was doing ballet for others, and it wasn't my passion anymore.
At the same time, I was brought back to when I was 12 years old
and I was given the book "The Healthy Dancer"
and how inspired I was with how - not only how injuries recovered
but how to prevent injuries.
It became a beacon for me
to want to become part of someone else's journey
of recovery from injury, sickness and disease.
And at the same time,
I saw an interview of another ballerina
who had left her ballet company to become a premedical student.
And this was the last endorsement I needed to make my change.
So as my chapter of rediscovery came to an end,
my stage of reinvention had just begun.
August 23rd, 2016,
I take my very first college class at Feather River College,
and I call this my day of liberation
because I finally felt like I was in the right place in my life,
and by the end of the very first week, I knew I'd have no regrets.
And to this day, three years later, here as a student at UC Berkeley,
here at the stage where it all started,
I've had no regrets.
If someone were to ask me today, "Are you living the dream?"
I could say yes and truly mean it this time.
But when I was leaving ballet,
I was a bit afraid that ballet would never be a part of my life ever again.
But that was wrong
because today I am able to incorporate as much ballet in my life,
whether it be teaching the next generation of ballet dancers
or just taking classes here and there.
Ballet gave me wisdom, focus and discipline,
and I'm so proud that it will always be a part of my life.
But if you guys leave here with anything today,
from our short time here,
leave with this:
it's never too late to reinvent yourself
if you are not happy with who you currently are.
Be kind to yourself,
and be open to moments of inflection.
We are not static statues
but instead evolving beings
who have the capacity to reinvent ourselves at any time in our life.
And be fearless to change your identity.
I am Miko, and I am a ballerina,
a student, a teacher, a hopeful future healer
and a Cal Bear.
Thank you.
(Applause)