I grew up in Alabama. The arts weren't exactly front and center in my world — but movement was. I was always moving, always restless, always finding ways to express things that language couldn't quite reach.
Dance as Survival
When I was a teenager, dance wasn't something I did for performance. It was something I did to survive. To process. To feel like myself in a world that often felt like it was designed for someone else.
Stripping — yes, I've been open about this — came later and came from the same place. It wasn't glamorous. It was survival. It was hustle. And it was one of the most honest things I've ever done because I was purely in my body, with no script, no safety net.
What Movement Teaches You About Everything Else
Dance teaches you timing in a way nothing else can. It teaches you to listen to a partner, to a room, to the music underneath everything. Those skills — real, physical, embodied skills — translated directly into how I approach acting.
The best scenes I've ever played have felt like choreography. There's a rhythm to great film performance, and I learned to find it through my feet first.
I'll never stop moving. Even when the cameras are off.