Originally published on Oct. 16, 2025. Rena Farajova, residing in Regina, shares her personal journey. To explore more CBC First Person stories, visit the FAQ.
At the age of ten, I found myself in a majestic ballroom, my heart pounding loudly in my chest. The bright stage lights, the gleaming polished floor, and the charged atmosphere created a sense of anticipation.
From the tender age of three, I had been immersed in Azerbaijani traditional dances with the children’s group “Cücələrim” (Chicks), which brought immense joy to my childhood. These dances emphasized the grace and elegance of the girls’ movements, each performance feeling like pure magic, igniting a sense of pride in bringing happiness through dance.
However, my dreams of dancing were shattered when, at the age of 10, I was diagnosed with arrhythmia and heart valve issues that disrupted the normal blood flow through my heart.
The news was devastating as dancing was not just a hobby but an integral part of my identity. The doctor’s warning that dancing posed a risk due to my condition felt like a sudden end to a cherished chapter.
My illness not only hindered my ability to dance but also impacted me during stressful times, serving as a constant reminder of my limitations, which was particularly challenging as a dream-filled child being urged to slow down.
Despite undergoing numerous treatments and enduring painful injections, my health gradually improved, allowing me to lead a more normal life.
Yet, the void left by the absence of dance persisted.
Healing physically was one thing, but living without dance was another challenge. Witnessing my peers continue their pursuits while mine halted prematurely was disheartening.
In my 20s, I turned to recreational ballroom and Latin dance classes not for performance but to rediscover the joy of movement, refraining from reentering professional national dance out of respect for its significance in my life.
In our culture, we believe that music becomes a part of us, impossible to resist, and even after years of silence, the rhythm within me remained alive.
Upon immigrating to Canada with my family, I believed my dancing days were behind me, consumed by the busyness of life and doubts about sharing my traditions in a new land.
Although dance gradually slipped away again amidst family and work commitments, a yearning to preserve my roots persisted. Sharing my heritage through food, stories, and small traditions at home revealed a genuine curiosity among Canadians, inspiring me to co-establish the Azerbaijani Cultural Association of Regina (AzCAR) in 2023.
Recognizing the importance of showcasing our traditions, we procured national