I didn’t know what to expect that day my best friend asked me to join her in the new ballet folklorico troupe being assembled our freshman year in high school. Though I grew up in Austin, TX, a community ripe with Hispanic culture, and had a best friend who was born in Mexico, I had never truly experienced the culture. Sure, I had a love for what my best friend would just call “food,” but other than tacos, enchiladas, a few Spanish language classes, and some awkward interactions with my friend’s parents as I tried to communicate in their native tongue, I was still pretty immersed in my own Caucasion culture.

But, that soon changed. An English teacher at our high school introduced the idea of the troupe, and with the generous assistance of Roy Lozano, who ran his own local ballet folklorico group in Austin, we slowly learned the basics. Roy taught us how to get up off the ground only using the strength of our legs, and we practiced the Mexican polka step for hours until it finally clicked. We learned how to move our arms in cadence with the music holding onto our full skirts, creating beautiful swirls of motion all over the stage. We paired up with partners, learning to spin around the dance floor gracefully and without getting dizzy in shoes with nails embedded in the heels and toes to emphasize the sounds our steps made.

We started out small that first year, with simple costumes of red skirts and white blouses representing Norte music, quickly moving on to the colorful dresses of Jalisco adorned with ribbon, and even white lace dresses representing Veracruz. We learned how each costume represented a different region in Mexico, the styles of dance also reflecting those areas. 

Our hours of practice after school resulted in performances full of costume changes where we shared dances in front of our classmates, on the stage with Roy Lozano’s troupe, on the Riverwalk in San Antonio, and even at nearby college campuses. We danced around sombreros in Jarabe Tapatio, balanced lit candles on our heads while we danced to La Bruja, and with a partner, we tied a long sash into a bow only using our feet in the song La Bamba.

And with each dance, I fell in love. Not just with the dancing, but also with my fellow dancers. We spent hours together practicing, making braids out of yarn and ribbon for our hair, swapping hairspray and bobby pins to ensure our hair stayed tight in a bun. And learning from one another about our families and traditions. 

I stood out like a sore thumb throughout my four years of dancing ballet folklorico, often the only fair-skinned, blonde-haired dancer in the group. But I never once felt self-conscious. Okay, maybe I was slightly self-conscious at the start, but that fear quickly faded. I was embraced into the culture, truly a part of this new family I had found. I was even once told by a fellow dancer that I had a Mexican spirit. What an honor.

I’m still so grateful for those years of being a part of such a colorful culture. One that cherishes family and friendships beyond measure, and celebrates what makes them unique. Many times have I encountered Jarabe Tapatio playing over the speakers at a Mexican restaurant and wanted to drop what I’m doing to dance the steps that are still so familiar in my mind 26 years later. Or even dancing that familiar polka step in the kitchen while I cook dinner listening to popular songs on the radio now. 

I can never thank my best friend enough for asking me to join her that day. She gave me a gift I didn’t know I wanted, and an experience that has made me appreciate the beauty of a culture aside from my own. So to all of my friends from the Austin High School Ballet Folklorico troupe, thank you for inviting this Gringa into your culture and making me one of your own. You’ll never know just how much I cherish you and our times together.