When you dance, you fly.
When I was fourteen, my mom encouraged me to join our local Greek folk dance group. Fourteen felt late for an activity many kids started at four. I learned the basics—pentozali, karagouna, and the ever-popular tik—and made my dance debut at Fort Wayne’s annual Greek Festival in 2008. It was a pivotal moment that changed how I saw myself and my relationship to my culture.
Growing up as a Greek-American, I often felt caught between two worlds. There was the expectation that I’d know the language, make the foods, and live the traditions—and the reality, which often felt awkward and distant. Through dance, I finally found a way in.
Greek dance wasn’t just a hobby—it was a bridge. A bridge to a community that shared my heritage. A bridge to my grandparents and my dad, who immigrated to America in the 1960s. Nothing compared to the way my yiayia’s and papou’s faces lit up when they saw me dance. I didn’t know all the words to the songs, but I felt the music to my core.
My yiayia used to tell me, “When you dance, you fly.”
I danced until graduating high school in 2012 (and then again at last year’s festival, for old-time’s sake). Today, my family and friends still dance with Fort Wayne’s premier Greek folk dance group, Omega. It’s become one of my greatest joys to photograph their annual festival performances. Through the lens, I get to capture the beauty of fleeting moments—celebrating a culture to which I entirely belong.
