By Golda Fulmer
For me, February through April is crunch time: being on the Tustin High School dance team, this is our competition season, with long practices Monday through Friday and sometimes Saturdays. We compete at a number of high schools in California, and participate in one “travel” competition, whether it’s another state altogether or another county in California. Though it’s extremely tiring, it’s the highlight of my year, and only brings forth joyful memories with my teammates, coaches, and every other dancer there. No other thing can penetrate this wonderful time of the year for me.
Saturday, February 24, 2018 was our second competition of the year at Arlington High School. When all the drilling of routines, hussle to get ready to take the floor, and when competing is done, the final phase of the day-long competition is the award ceremony. There was a long day ahead of us (it ended up being 16 hours or so), and just thinking about the events of the day were already making me tired—but nonetheless excited.
A small question arose in me early on in the day. As Tustin sat in the bleachers watching the soloists’ portion of the competition, a teammate pointed something out to me: all competitors had a small orange ribbon pinned to a part of their costume. I thought it was just a measure taken as a means to mark performers from spectators, and didn’t think too hard about it. When it came time for me to perform, the dance team and I received these orange ribbons as well, and I thought it an endearing gesture from the hosts of the competition. I carried on with no further thoughts about it.
Finally the beloved award ceremony was at hand. The award ceremony at dance competitions is practically a huge party: teams congregate on the gym floor, music is blasting, and there’s the occasional Cupid Shuffle, Cha Cha Slide, YMCA, those kinds of things; it’s safe to say that despite it being a long day for all performers, by the time awards roll around, no one wants to go home. And as the typical preparations for the awards ceremony was underway, I expected the usual “party” atmosphere and nothing less.
Instead I got this: as hundreds of rambunctious teens rustled, danced, and belted at the top of their lungs unrelentingly, the announcer settled us all down, and began to bring our attention to the orange ribbons pinned to us so modestly and neatly. We were all still charming, but the room became dead silent as she further explained the ribbon. The orange ribbon was an homage to a 17 year old girl who was among the 17 that died in the Valentine’s Day shooting in Parkland, Florida. This particular girl had also been a dancer. Not a soul made a sound, and we further commenced in a moment of silence for the students and teachers who had died and were wounded that day.
That simple symbol, when explained, spoke numbers. Though it was a seemingly insignificant and subtle detail, they decided to take that small step to make a point of a heartbreaking tragedy that has affected us all. But this story spoke something specific to me: though there is so much chaos going on in our world currently, there are many good deeds behind the scenes as well.