I was nine years old and I had just auditioned to be a dancer in the 1992 Fiesta Bowl halftime show, to be played at Sun Devil Stadium in Phoenix, Arizona. I was beyond thrilled when I was selected as one of the youngest performers. I made my way to Phoenix with my mom and a few of my dance friends. My mom owns a dance studio in Salt Lake City and has taught dance since long before I was born (and still does)—I was sort of destined to be a dancer. I remember early morning practices and long hours of rehearsal on the field in the Arizona heat, but I didn’t care, I was thrilled to be there!

I remember on the very first day of rehearsal going through the moves and having my mom standing close to me so I could follow what was being taught. In the line behind me I heard the following conversation:

Student: I am not sure how this move goes, that girl is doing it like this, is that correct?

Dance teacher: Oh, don’t watch her, she is blind and doesn’t really know what she’s doing.

I remember my heart dropping to the floor like a bomb. My eyes instantly welled up with tears, and for the first time in my short life, I realized people would doubt me because of my blindness. I remember a tear-filled conversation with my mom about the encounter later that evening. I was young but I couldn’t understand why my talent, and accomplishment of making it there, were somehow less valuable because I was blind.

I also remember my mom saying something that stuck with me even more, “This is your chance to stand, stand up and fight against everything that dance teacher, and the world, thinks you are incapable of.”

That moment on a football field in Phoenix has stuck with me my entire life, it’s something I will never forget, and for good reason. It may have been my first memory of blatant discrimination, but it certainly has not been my last. Many times since, my capabilities have been questioned simply because I’m blind.

I did not learn about the National Federation of the Blind for ten more years after the day my nine-year-old self had to choose to stand, and not falter to the low expectations the world set for me. When I found the Federation in 2001, I found others who were willing to stand with me, fight with me, dance with me…whatever it took. We can find enormous dignity and strength when we choose to stand up and fight for ourselves, but there is something indescribably powerful when others are willing to stand up too. There is a new inner warrior that kicks in when we have the power of an organization of people who, fight the same fight we do, behind us all the way. We must choose to stand together.