My mom came to the United States in her 20s with my older brother, Lee. She made her way here alongside her own mother as a refugee from Moldova, a former Soviet Union nation. In the Soviet Union, as my mom has explained to me, you didn't just get to pick one day that you wanted to play soccer or do gymnastics. Because the programs were funded entirely by the government, children had to try out for every sport and were only given the chance to participate if they showed promise.

They also had to undergo frequent examinations to make sure that they were still carrying out all measures to live up to their potential. When my mom made it into the rhythmic gymnastics program in Moldova, she had to fight every day to make sure she wouldn't have that opportunity taken away from her. When problems with her vision began to arise, she had to be removed from the program, but she never lost her love for the athletic artistry of the sport.

I participated in figure skating from ages 4 to 9, then found my calling with dancing from ages 7 to my grave (approximately). My mom was no "dance mom," but she did make it very apparent that I was not to be wasting my time. She would push me to analyze videos of my dancing and to fight strongly as my own advocate during my training. She also made it clear that while this was entirely my own journey, she wanted me to have the opportunity to pursue my art in a way that she didn't have.

In "I, Tonya," a new film depicting the life of Olympic figure skater Tonya Harding, there is a vastly different mother-daughter dynamic. Tonya's mother is shown as extremely abusive, withholding of love, and entirely focused on Tonya's career. Without even touching the other parts of her life, the movie already makes it clear that Tonya's childhood was troubled. It is very difficult to understand why a mother would treat her own child in such a way. Tonya's mother is a prime example of a mother living life through her child. She treats Tonya as a vessel for experience and not as an actual person.

There were times when I was younger that I felt like my mom was doing just that. She would often push me harder than I would push myself. I would cry when she gave me her honest opinion on my dancing, I would cry when she would try to engage in conversations with me about why I wasn't winning, and I was often too proud to take her suggestions. I don't believe that my mom was "living through me" at any point, and she isn't today. However, it's not hard to see that parents tie their children's success very closely with their own. It is also a very special case with my mom, because she was denied the freedom to explore her own passion as a child.

My mom is nothing like Tonya Harding's mother, but the events in the movie led me to examine my own relationship with my mom and my relationship with the concept of "Dance Moms." The wild antics of dance moms depicted on the Lifetime show of that title are of course exaggerated beyond recognition, but the concept of strict and highly invested moms in the world of dance is very real.

For many of these moms, success equals happiness. Therefore, any amount of pressure towards success will ultimately lead to happiness. While this is clearly flawed logic, I find that there is a kind of twisted truth to it. Obviously there is no merit in the inhumane act of beating one's child, so that is clearly not the topic of discussion.

However, my mom's parenting style involved urging me to work hard even when I was too young to see the long term benefits, and attaining skill in an art and a craft that I enjoy did bring me happiness. Without a "dance mom mind reader," it's difficult to understand the motivation behind the behavior of pushy moms. Disregarding those with unhealthy motivations, there is merit to urging one's child to go beyond what they can presently see and reach for success that will ultimately bring fulfillment and joy.