Senior Adrianna “Amo” Monzon is hard on herself.

She was hard on herself when she didn’t make the drill team freshman year.

Or sophomore year.

Or junior year.

She’s hard on herself whenever the stress causes her nose to bleed. 

She’s hard on herself in practice, when her performance isn’t as good as she expects.

Yes, she’s hard on herself, but she has to be. After all, she is a part of the Golden Pride of Heritage High.

At the pep rallies, the cheers of the crowd are loud. 

But the voice inside Amo’s head is louder. The prayers right before a performance overpower anything else she hears. Telling herself to not mess up, not to fall like she did in practice. 

For three minutes, the stage is theirs; all eyes are on them. The captain blows the whistle and the show begins.

That’s when the comments start rolling in. 

Comments about their hot pink shoes, their slicked-back ponytails, whether “her face is pretty enough” or if “she looks good in that outfit.” Audience members whip out their phones to record the performance, their faces turn red and a couple of students lick their lips and blurt out remarks to their friends.

“Damn, you know that girl’s back is arched.”

“Dating a Highstepper would be an honor because you get to see them shake their ass all the time.”

They make Amo uncomfortable sometimes, but the Highsteppers have heard it all before. 

They know the audience doesn’t see the pirouette they practiced for three hours every morning, the planning of their elaborate costumes or their perfected facial expressions. They know the audience doesn’t taste the saltiness of their sweat when it drips into their mouth or feel the burning of their legs after 100 high kicks. 

 “They see us bending over [and] shaking our butts,” junior Snigdha Kotaru said. “That’s all they focus on. [But] we have a lot more to offer.”

For Amo, it’s all about the reaction. She’s been dancing since she was 13 years old, and she comes to life in front of an audience. When her audience is happy, she’s happy. But when they aren’t, it’s difficult for her to feel satisfied.

“My purpose is to entertain,” Amo said. “We’re there to make people happy.”

Every routine is etched into her mind, and so is every mistake. Every flawed leap. Every missed trick. It’s always there. She dwells on the past, asking herself: 

Adrianna, why would you do that? You do this so many times, and you mess up right now?

Deep down, Amo knows she’s a good dancer. But sometimes she finds it hard to believe in herself when her high kicks aren’t as powerful as her teammates’, or sees the big “L” on her size large uniform, when all the other girls have smalls and mediums.

“It’s uncomfortable being the bigger girl on the team,” Amo said. “[But] I have to put all of my insecurities to the side. I’m doing this for me and not anyone else.”

For Amo, it can be challenging to accept her body. But she likes a challenge.  

Year after year, she kept auditioning to get that coveted maroon and white uniform. Year after year, she kept telling herself that with grit, she can accomplish anything she wants. 

“I want to show girls that [being] overweight doesn’t mean you can’t do drill,” Amo said. 

On difficult days, she can turn to her team for support. They’re there for every 5:52 a.m. practice, for every high kick and every dance.

“I consider the whole team [as my] sisters,” Amo said. “Since we’re always together, everyone grew such a close bond.”

Amo Monzon is hard on herself. But she keeps trying and getting better. That’s why she made the team her senior year. That’s why she loves to perform. Let the people talk. Amo isn’t listening.