I'll Never Change My Name
Page 30
But her mom and dad were very stubborn people. As parents they never stopped believing and never stopped loving their daughter. They took her out of the hospital and cared for her at home, keeping faith that Victoria would somehow pull through. She was stuck, her body totally nonresponsive. Her thoughts grew darker and more blurry and then just faded to black.
Two years passed. Victoria was in her midteens when she emerged from the coma, and her mind came back, too. One day her mom locked eyes with Victoria and realized that something had changed. Oh my God, her mother thought, she’s here! There’s a consciousness there!
“Blink twice if you can hear me,” her mother said, overcome with emotion.
Victoria started blinking, and that’s all that was necessary to move forward with her recovery. She and her family began communicating, she began exercising, and with enough faith and hope they embarked on a grueling five-year recuperation just to get Victoria into a wheelchair. Two years later, she won three medals swimming in the summer 2012 Paralympics. She eventually began working as a commentator at ESPN. In 2016, after being paralyzed from the waist down for nearly a decade, she took her first step.
A year after that, still with no feeling in her legs, she joined the cast of Dancing with the Stars as a celebrity contestant.
The timing of this book, with me reflecting on my life, meditating on all the different blessings that came into fruition, and my desire to pass those blessings forward—I think it all culminated perfectly in my partnership with Victoria.
Victoria is not just an American hero for winning medals in the Paralympics. She’s a human hero for triumphing over something that universally unites us: our mortality and fight for life. There’s no greater example of the human spirit, and no better demonstration of strength in family.
Ultimately, that’s what this book is about. We all have different challenges and we all have different paths in life. We all have trip-ups along the way, and some of us have bigger trip-ups than others—some of us can’t even feel our legs. But we gotta keep it moving.
I began this book by talking about being put into boxes. Racism, anti-Semitism, anti-immigrant bigotry, prejudice against the disabled are all examples of the most deadly kind of labeling. They drain the humanity from individuals and reduce them to stick figures.
Oh, that’s the black girl from that singing group.
Oh, that’s the Hispanic chick who thinks she can be a gymnast.
That’s the new mother, that’s the gay guy, that’s the Muslim, that’s the Christian, that’s the Jew, that’s the foreigner, that’s the liberal, that’s the conservative, that’s the outsider, that’s the other.
That’s the girl in the wheelchair who wants to dance.
That’s the immigrant, that’s the Russian kid who can’t speak English, that’s the geek with the stupid kicks whose mom always makes him tuck in his shirt.
They don’t belong, those people. They can’t do it. They, they, they.
I don’t want any part of it. How many roads do we need to walk down before we realize that there is no “they”? There’s only us.
Closed-minded attitudes have killed millions over the centuries and are still killing people today. Beyond that, they place a heavy weight on the human imagination, on possibility and self-image. We lose so much when we obsess over differences and ignore our common humanity.
But that shouldn’t discourage us. It shouldn’t discourage all those people moving forward with open-minded attitudes, who are seeking to inspire others with their own joy and happiness, sharing the beauty they see in this world. As much as this book deals with negativity, it doesn’t dwell on it, either. I’ve been very fortunate that I’ve felt the wind beneath my wings from my family and mentors, and I hope this book can be that for others as well. Meet adversity with a smile and keep it moving.
Take a look at the cast members of Dancing with the Stars. They’re like poster children for diversity, for the idea that no single attribute can ever define a creature as complex as a human being. Athletes come on the show and magically transform into dancers. All flavors, colors, and backgrounds are welcome, with the only qualification being a willingness to learn, grow, and work hard toward a shared goal.
I’ve come to see Dancing with the Stars as a microcosm of the American dream. Over twenty-five seasons, what’s been reflected in the countless mirrors of the Mirrorball Trophy tells the real truth of what’s out there in the world.
My experience, as chronicled in this book, is likewise a symbol of what America is all about. I have a fierce allegiance and a wild kind of gratitude toward the country that has given me a wonderful home, and I try to live up to its ideals every day of my life. I’ve seen America, I’ve met her by the thousands while out on tour, we’ve hugged, shook hands, and inspired each other, and I know the goodness that resides in the hearts of her people. We only need to tap into it to make this world a better place.
That’s the message I’ve tried to convey in everything I do. Keep the positive, optimistic beat. You can do it. Don’t let the naysayers—or the judges—get you down. With love in our hearts, rhythm in our souls, and a little shimmy in our hips, we can achieve miracles. Be kind. Be great.
Valentin Chmerkovskiy: Competitive Ballroom Dance Record
Fourteen-time U.S. National Latin Dance Champion
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Two-time World Latin Dance Champion
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Blackpool Dance Festival Champion
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U.S. Open Champion
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German Open Champion
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Asian-Pacific Champion
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UK Open Latin Champion
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North American Championships, First Place
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La Classique du Quebec, First Place
Gratitudes
I call it gratitudes because acknowledgments sounds so formal. So clichéd. My appreciation for my mentors, my friends, my family, and everyone that gave me their time, their hearts, I’m most proud of those ties. Those that have shared their most precious gift with me, their time. But more than that, they gave me their effort, their knowledge, and their wisdom. These are folks for whom I’m genuinely grateful. In their own way of course, I have an individual story and tie with each person, but the authenticity with which I appreciate them is across the board one hundred percent.
To my brother Maks for really really being that guy. The Foreword speaks for itself, but growing up, he always had to speak for himself plus one. The plus one was the flyest little brother in the universe but was always a plus one, minus six years, and a whole lot of inches. In height. Maks was always proud of me, always concerned, and always there. For me to truly be able to have a book of stories to write about, is because of Maks. And as I said after the final bow of Our Way, “It’s nice to say ‘I did it,’ but it’s even better to say that ‘we did.’”
And to my parents, y’all the shit. The best. The absolute best, and I reap the fruits of your labor. Mom literally, Pops literally. And God, to see you sacrifice so much so often for your kids growing up was and still is the most inspirational energy I have ever been around. You have shaped me into the mind, the man, and the person that I am today. I love you, and thank you so much.
To my friends, y’all the village that gave me everything I ever needed. My pride lies in the friendships that I keep. Alex, my oldest friend. We’ve had twenty-three years of friendship, competition, growth, laughs, basketball, arguments, durak, cee-lo, being dumb and ambitious, and way too smart for our own good. I love you, my brother, for holding me to a standard that never lets me breathe, but always makes me the best version of myself. I appreciate you. Nicole Volynets, who, if Martha Stewart and Coco Chanel had an offspring, she would be it. Thank you for always being there, and for always being excited and supportive
of all the crazy ideas I have. The entire Volynets family, for being my second family for fifteen years now. You have loved and supported me like I was your own and I’ll always be so grateful for that. Eugene Livshits, Igor Drobyazko, Ted Volynets, Serge Onik, Mervin Samuels, Yaron Abraham, thank you for being my brothers, my teammates, who always inspired me to be my best. At least that’s how I justify all the trash talk from y’all in my mind.
Thank you to all my dance partners that I have ever had the honor to dance with. Being able to create with you, compete with you, teach and learn from you, and have the time of my life doing so has been absolutely incredible. Anyone catch the inadvertent Dirty Dancing reference? The truth is, I am only as good as my partner and I believe that and apply that thought to this day. Thank you all for sharing the stage with me all these years.
Special thank you to Deena Katz for being the Hollywood mother that, even though she has literally a million phone calls to take in a minute, always picked up the phone on me. Anytime I called to talk, to vent, to share the “next big Hollywood show” idea, you always made time to hear me out. To Ashley Edens, Joe Sankur, Rob Wade, Mandy Moore for believing in me all those seasons of bad haircuts, terrible bites, and questionable choreography choices. You all stuck with me and gave me a chance on Dancing with the Stars—to not just change my own life, but also the lives of so many around me. Everyone in my DWTS family, thank you for being the hardest workers in the business, there is definitely a reason why we’re going into our 26th season.
Thank you to Guy Phillips, for being wise and cool headed, from believing in me and giving me a shot with our own tour, to becoming a dear friend I can call any time for advice. Kathy Shapiro for having my back and always being there. Marina Kenigstain for being the best. Peter Grant, major gratitude for being my lawyer for the last seven years now, and for always looking out and telling me exactly how it is. I want to thank the most excellent team that worked with me to create this book, leading with Sheryl Shade, who found a home for the project at HarperCollins, where Alieza Schvimer and Lisa Sharkey proved to be expert and enthusiastic guides through the publishing process. Thanks also to the entire publishing team at HarperCollins, including Anna Montague, Lynn Grady, Ben Steinberg, Kell Wilson, and Maria Silva. I’d like to thank Dave Levisohn, Jerry Metellus, and Maarten De Boer for their photography.
To Gil Reavill, who helped me shape my words into stories and form those stories into a book. Besides becoming dear friends in the process of working together, I am forever grateful for the passion you displayed for this book throughout. You quickly understood this wasn’t going to be the usual process. That there was a crazy passionate, meticulous, and highly particular person on the other side that is allergic to mediocrity and is really anal about every nuance, flow, and thought that would be written down in this book. Thank you for your patience, guidance, and, at the end of the day, your honest friendship.
Lastly, I want to thank Jenna Johnson. I love you dearly, and this book would never have been made without your love and support. You’ve been the rock that I needed for years now, way before the book or before anyone would have been interested in reading it. You’ve heard these stories, and these lectures, and my nonsense every day for years, and your words of encouragement for my crazy thoughts were all I ever needed to make them come alive. You’ve helped me create so much magic becoming my partner, not just in dance or choreography, but more importantly at home, in life. What’s mine is yours, my love.
Thank you to every reader, every fan, and every single person that gave me their time to connect. I hope you got something out of the thoughts in this book and are inspired to go out and live a life worth writing about. Till next time . . .
Photos Section
My parents romantically walking through the streets of Odessa. *sarcasm*
Image courtesy of the author.
And on this day Larissa Eremenko officially became a Chmerkovskiy, Pops looks mischievously excited. He was nineteen and she was twenty at the time.
Image courtesy of the author.
Here I am in our apartment just keeping it casual, butt-naked on the kitchen table that doubled as my changing table when I was a baby.
Image courtesy of the author.
Ah, my young parents taking me for a stroll around town. Smiling was illegal in the Soviet Union.
Image courtesy of the author.
But not for us. Here I am with Maks, teeth and no teeth, loving life. You could tell he loved having a little bro.
Image courtesy of the author.
I must’ve just learned how to walk and you can see Maks keeping me balanced, making sure I wasn’t going to fall. It’s so dear. This picture truly captures our relationship for the next twenty years.
Image courtesy of the author.
Taking in the sun at the famed Odessa beach on the Black Sea. Folks still not allowed to smile, something’s got me over-analyzing life already, and Maks is totally owning that speedo.
Image courtesy of the author.
Taking a bath. In a metal tub. In the kitchen. Life was so simple back then.
Image courtesy of the author.
Here I am pictured with my archnemesis, hot oatmeal, that’s clearly getting the best of me.
Image courtesy of the author.
Maks taking this whole “she loves me, she loves me not” thing way too seriously.
Image courtesy of the author.
I think Pops was trying to dance with me. I look petrified and confused all at the same time.
Image courtesy of the author.
Okay okay, now I’m getting the hang of it. That bathrobe though!
Image courtesy of the author.
Here we are on a family trip to our local circus. I hated being placed on my Mom’s lap, Maks is just awkward, and Pops is being Pops.
Image courtesy of the author.
I love this picture of my beautiful mother. You can see the nurture in her eyes, yet incredible strength at the same time.
Image courtesy of the author.
End of first grade class picture in front of the world-famous Odessa Opera house.
Image courtesy of the author.
My very first dance recital at the age of six with my very first partner, Tanyachka, and we’re doing the polka. For real, the polka.
Image courtesy of the author.
In Maks’ hand-me-down onesie looking like a gentleman.
Image courtesy of the author.
At my uncle’s wedding, entertaining the keys.
Image courtesy of the author.
At my very first competition in America with my new partner Anna. The balloons say it all, still rocking that onesie.
Image courtesy of the author.
Riding along our Brooklyn neighborhood in those infamous rollerblades. My brother was nowhere in sight.
Image courtesy of the author.
In our kitchen, at our South Brooklyn apartment with my Easter eggs and Pops’ translations on the wall. He was learning English; we all were.
Image courtesy of the author.
Celebrating my ninth birthday in our living room, with me entertaining of course.
Image courtesy of the author.
I was obsessed with Steve Urkel from Family Matters, and my family was obsessed with me pretending to act like him at family functions.
Image courtesy of the author.
My eleventh birthday, I think. I honestly just counted the candles.
Image courtesy of the author.
The Jordan cut-out my brother got me for my birthday. He forged “To Val, from AIR.” with a sharpie thinking I’d fall for the fact that Mike’s signature wasn’t stock and personalized. I love my brother for that.
Image courtesy of the author.
Outside our apartment building on West Street and Avenue Z.
Image courtesy of the author.
Pops teaching me the game of life, on our bunk beds.
Image courtesy of the author.
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sp; Violin recital, sneaking a peek at the sheet music.
Image courtesy of the author.
Victory pose with my partner Diana, and yes that’s an American flag dress. Tacky? Maybe. Patriotic? OH YEAH!
Image courtesy of the author.
This “standout violinist” trophy taking a picture with its recipient. It’s huge.
Image courtesy of the author.
This is the moment I truly felt American, waving the American flag at the Junior Worlds, becoming the first American to ever win the championship, just a month after September 11—easily the most meaningful moment of my dance career.
Image courtesy of the author.
Here I am mid-dance with my partner Valeria, and I had recently discovered sheer. This was a beautiful disaster.
Image courtesy of the author.
Hitting a figure called the “New Yorker” with my partner Sandy. I have now rhinestoned my sheer. (Hand on face.)
© Jonathan S. Marion
With Elisabetta at my very first Judges’ feedback ever on Dancing with the Stars. That smile was short-lived . . .
Photo by Dave Levisohn
Sherry being Sherry.
Photo by Dave Levisohn
Sometimes emotional difficulties can be conquered through a beautiful dance—this was one of them.