Monologue

I started ballet when I was Seven and my father left. people Think your a homosexual if your a boy and you dance. It's a stereotype of the people who have never once, done a piriot, releve, or Pleiet. Dancers are the muslims of a southern baptist church. For sure. one night I was doing a routine from the nutcracker at a half time for foot ball, when an older player leaves the dug out. I was doing the dance of the sugar plums and he walks right by the marshals, and coaches and parents, comes up to me- he was wearing a big gold ring, i can still see it. Walks close to my face and just as I bend for the leap, he trips me just as i jump so i fall into the girl ahead of me in the sugar plum fairy costume. That's the only time i have ever not landed the leap of the nut cracker. Fell in front of fifty thousand people. Then he smiles like he knows all of what is occurring in my head. He says something. Something I want to scream back at him. The other two boys in the ballet are gay. He screamed "faggot." right in my ear, in front of half of South Carolina. It was like my dignity being pulled from me.  There is one dance, you people don't see.  The last day of Lent, we go to the clearing in the forest that God brought us to. Jesus Dancers come. Well the ones who just have started point. They come and put on the point shoes. Without bandages and dance in the rain, until their feet bleed. Our Dancing Virginity lost, and bled into the sewer grates. Our sacrifice. Our Crucifixion. The Red water washes away God's Face from the pavement. I dont think you could believe.  dont think you could believe how beautiful it is. I started dancing when I was seven, but i never really knew it until my father left. But in truth, my father is up there. And I wash away the fright of him on the pavement with our dancer's blood. And i know my father. I will leave the slippers here. the one's that I bled into. right here. As if i had never danced. And when they leave,  you can pick it up, so as not to be called a faggot. It can be yours. Your weight of burden. It is the key to the gate of heaven. I leave it.