I Felt At Home In Words — Victoria Torres

Walt Whitman once wrote “I am not contained between my hat and my boots…I am large, I contain multitudes.” When I first read these words, I was 16, falling in love with words again and seeking solace in them while it seemed the rest of my dreams crashed down around me. 

I’d spent my whole life dreaming of being a professional dancer and was constantly being told that I just wasn’t good enough. Eventually, I started to believe it. I found myself in the depths of an eating disorder, trying to find perfection and prove everyone wrong. Through every step in my recovery, I found myself in words. I turned to writing as a release, processing every difficult moment through the act of putting pen to paper. 

In the moments when I needed to be reminded of beauty, resilience, and joy, I turned to other writers, captivated by the ways they strung sentences together and how a single word could make my heart soar. In the moments when I felt frustrated or desperate, I found solace in writing, giving myself the space to feel my emotions to the fullest extent. I felt at home in words. I recognized the power of storytelling and wondered if it could find its way into the new dreams I was building.

I published my first poem on a WordPress blog at 16, writing about what it meant to reshape my creativity and dreams, and to continue chasing my passions in the face of rejection and adversity. Every week, I sat cross-legged on my bed, surrounded by pale pink walls and movie posters, typing on a little white laptop with flowers all over the front. 

I published countless poems and personal essays, many of them centered around my experience as a young immigrant and the ways I was learning to heal from my quest for perfection. It was here I found my voice as a writer, combining my convictions and experiences with my artistry. 

As I got older and considered my career, I knew I wanted it all. I was hungry to create art, but also to make a change and support my community. I didn’t want to compromise on any of it and thankfully, I didn’t have to. I found a home at Emerson College, moving across the country to pursue a double major in Writing and Political Communications while still dancing with the university’s dance company. I spent my days running between classes, political internships, and late-night dance rehearsals. These years opened my eyes to the breadth of creativity I could have, and I began experimenting with video editing and graphic design as a way to tell innovative stories. 

Each new venture, whether it was moving to Boston, auditioning for performance opportunities, writing in different genres, or learning a new design software was an opportunity to take a chance on myself, to continue telling stories in a myriad of ways. The summer after my first year of college, I took a few days off of my internship at the Massachusetts State House, boarded a crowded Megabus to New York City, and decided to audition for Disney Cruise Line.

Disney had always had a special place in my heart. Growing up the daughter of immigrants, it was yet another reminder that I could be everything and anything I wanted, a reminder to find the magic in my everyday life.  I’d dreamed of dancing for Disney since I saw my first Disney World castle show at eight years old, drawing a photo of myself in one of the sparkly blue dresses the girls on the stage wore. 

I told everyone I was going to this audition on a whim, but really I was taking a chance on myself and a lifelong dream. I called my mom after the audition from a hole-in-the-wall falafel joint near Pearl Studios astounded that I had made it to the end. “If only all those people who had told you no could see you now.”

A few months later, sitting in my tiny intern cubicle at the Massachusetts State House, I got the email. I was being offered a contract as a performer on Disney Cruise Line. I knew I had to take this chance. Within a few weeks, I’d made all the arrangements to take a leave of absence from university and fly to Toronto for rehearsals. I was terrified to pause my education for something so uncertain, but I knew this was a dream I had to follow. I spent six months at sea, performing, writing, and learning more about myself than I ever imagined I could. 

I returned to Boston with a renewed sense in my capacity as an artist and an advocate, excited to continue exploring my creativity in multi-faceted ways. I continued creating digital and multi-media content throughout my last two years of university, chasing various paths of creativity. Eventually, they led me to where I am now. I have the privilege of advocating for my community and impacting policy through my work in the non-profit sector, while still creating multi-media content as a freelancer and dancer.

I stand here today as a testament to the magic that can happen when you refuse to compromise on your creativity and your identity, when you take chances on yourself, when you embrace your multitudes and use them as building blocks to create the life you always dreamed of.