Meet Cuic Suarez

We recently connected with Cuic Suarez and have shared our conversation below.

Cuic , we’re thrilled to have you sharing your thoughts and lessons with our community. So, for folks who are at a stage in their life or career where they are trying to be more resilient, can you share where you get your resilience from?

Resilience runs deep within me, forged through life’s challenges and experiences. It comes from a blend of my upbringing, the values instilled in me by my family, and the lessons learned on the journey. I draw strength from the man who came before me—my father—who faced his own struggles head-on and taught me the importance of perseverance.

My resilience is also built from the tough times I’ve faced myself. Each setback has been a lesson, a chance to grow stronger and more determined. I’ve learned to adapt, but more important, to evolve after the rough moments.,

Moreover, I find inspiration in the world around me—the stories of others who have overcome adversity, the successes born from hard work, and the knowledge that challenges are part of the journey. This understanding fuels my drive to rise above difficulties and emerge stronger each time.

In essence, my resilience is a combination of heritage, personal experience, and the relentless pursuit of growth and strength. It’s a mindset that I carry with me, ready to tackle whatever life throws my way.

Let’s take a small detour – maybe you can share a bit about yourself before we dive back into some of the other questions we had for you?

I was thirteen when my story in Dance began. I decided to take my first dance class motivated and to impress a girl I liked. I figured that if I could step into her world, maybe I’d have a shot at getting her attention. That was my plan. I was all in, ready to do whatever it took to spark a conversation and make an impression.

Of course, my friends and teammates on the water polo team weren’t exactly supportive. When they found out I was taking dance classes, they bullied me relentlessly. To them, it was a betrayal of some unspoken code—boys don’t dance; boys play sports. The moment I stepped into that dance studio, I could feel the shift. I went from being one of the guys to someone they didn’t want around. They couldn’t handle the fact that I was breaking the mold.

But I didn’t care. I was willing to risk their judgment for a chance with her. I wanted to show that I could be more than just an athlete. I was determined to prove that I could be someone who could move, express, and connect in a way that transcended the locker room bravado. It was a tough road, but I knew that following my heart was worth it, even if it meant standing alone.

In spite of my efforts, I never got the girl. She never acknowledged my existence—or maybe she just never became aware of it. But something did happen, something different began to awaken inside me. I started to realize that I actually liked to dance. It hit me one day when I found myself walking into the studio, not because of her, but because I wanted to be there. I was going to my dance classes willingly, driven by my own conviction.

Not long after I started, she quit the classes. I don’t know if my presence had anything to do with her decision, but honestly, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that I was falling in love with Dance. With every step, every beat, I felt something shift within me. I felt free—untethered from the weight of expectations, the longing for someone who barely knew I existed.

When I danced, I was someone else entirely—a version of myself that soared. I didn’t just move to the music; I became it. In those moments, the world faded away, and all that remained was the rhythm of my heart and the pulse of the floor beneath my feet. I could fly. I was no longer just a spectator in my own life; I was the one in the spotlight, and for the first time, I was truly alive.

RESILIENCE AND REINVENTION
– My story in the United States –

It was September 21st, 1986. I was just twenty-three years old when I touched down at Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport, sometime close to midnight. Earlier that year, two empresarios from the Windy City had extended a golden opportunity to me while I was performing in Mexico City with the Ballet Folklorico de Mexico. They’d seen something in me and offered a contract to appear as a “Guest Artist” in a vibrant new musical review celebrating Mexican culture.

The promise of two months in this new venture ignited a fire within me. This was my chance to step into the spotlight, not as part of a company, but as an individual artist—something I had always dreamed of. With a heart full of hope and only fifty dollars to my name, I set off to Chicago, ready to embrace this adventure and eager to bring my passion to life.

Little did I know, the journey I was about to embark on would change everything. I was blissfully unaware that the path ahead would be steep, fraught with challenges that would feel like a relentless downhill slide. But in that moment, all I could see were the dreams shimmering in my eyes, and the thrill of what lay ahead.

Almost as soon after I was picked up at the airport, another world of complications followed my arrival. Things did not seem right. The contract explicitly stated that upon my arrival, I would receive my first installment of the agreed payment. It also promised a fully furnished apartment for the duration of my stay. None of this happened, though. Instead of a warm welcome, I found myself without a cent in my pocket, taken to the empty basement of an old house in a not-so-safe neighborhood in the southwest of Chicago. The basement was a desolate space, offering nothing but a mattress on the floor and a small bathroom tucked away in one corner—an unfortunate luxury, if you could even call it that.

Was this a prank being played on me? My confusion was palpable, but I resolved to go along with the moment. I had no intention of questioning or being difficult on my first night of this exclusive endeavor. It was already way past midnight, and exhaustion weighed heavy on me. “Everything will be different tomorrow,” I thought. “I’ll receive my first payment, and it will all be well,” I reassured myself.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks rolled into a couple of months. The fifty dollars I had scraped together were long gone, spent on my first meals in those first few days. I was still living in that basement, still waiting for any form of payment to materialize. I found myself existing in a new surreal reality—one that was both inexplicable and unsettling. It was a dark reality that seemed to stretch endlessly before me.

Yet, despite it all, I remained committed to what I had signed in the contract. “You always honor your word because that is everything you are and everything you own.” I recalled my father’s words from my childhood, a mantra I had carried with me. And so, I held on to that principle, even as the walls of my confinement seemed to close in, and the hope of a brighter tomorrow dimmed with each passing day.
In accordance with our agreement, I hereby commit to the teaching of Mexican folkloric dances to a group of teenagers of Mexican descent. This responsibility was not merely a task but a passion I embraced daily, with hopes that my dedication would eventually lead to compensation for my efforts. As outlined in our contract, I was also to participate as the “Featured Special Guest” in a new and spectacular musical production, a role that I envisioned would elevate my status and provide a platform for my artistic expression.

However, the reality of my situation starkly contrasts with the dreams I harbored. What I initially perceived as an opportunity has spiraled into a disheartening struggle. I find myself navigating life in a foreign land, devoid of financial stability, companionship, and the comfort of my family. The language barrier has rendered me isolated, and the silence that envelops me has become a heavy burden.

In light of these challenges, the thought of returning to Mexico has crossed my mind more than once. Yet, the stark reality of my financial constraints looms large; I lack the funds for a plane ticket, and reaching out to my parents for assistance is not an option I am willing to entertain. I cannot bear the thought of causing them worry. Each time I communicate with them, I paint a rosy picture of my life in Chicago, declaring that everything is “going wonderfully,” when in truth, it feels like I am trapped in a nightmare.

My pride also plays a significant role in my reluctance to abandon this endeavor. Back home, I boasted to friends and family about my promising future as a star in the making, poised to shine in a musical production that would showcase my talents. It is this stubborn pride that keeps me from returning home defeated, unwilling to face the reality of my situation and the hefty price I would pay in lost dreams and shattered expectations. I remain committed to my responsibilities, holding onto the hope that someday, my sacrifices will bear fruit, even as the weight of my circumstances threatens to overwhelm me.Somehow, I managed to find a way to teach some dance classes for kids in “La Villita”, the Mexican hood of Chicago. This gave me an opportunity to earn some money, about one hundred dollars a week. Now, I could afford a daily meal which consisted of two hot dogs with fries and a soda. I had the fortune to find a joint one block away from ‘my basement” that had this mouth-watering special for $4.99 everyday. I would eat one hot dog in the morning and save the other one for my dinner. With some of that money I also would pay for some ballet classes at a dance studio I accidentally found one day while wandering around downtown Chicago.

That day, the moment I luckily walked in front of this one building in downtown Chicago and read on the directory board “Lou Conte Dance Studio”, was defining in the ordeal my life had become. I did not speak any English at all but I did not need a Bachelor of Science in English to understand the words “Dance Studio”.
My steps walked me into that building and towards the elevator. I pressed the button once inside the elevator to take me to the floor where the dance studios were located. When the elevator doors opened it was like a scene from a movie. I saw Dancers walking around in their dance attires. Dancers walking back and forth in that unique way that only Dancers walk. Dancers walking to their dance classes in that particular way of walking that only Dancers have. It’s almost a different language. What a different world that one was. These were the kind of Dancers I remember seeing back home in TV series like “Fame”.
Timidly, I walked into a lobby where I could appreciate three or four dance studios around me. One lady sitting at a desk involved in a conversation with two Dancers politely asked me, “Hello, may I help you?”. With my much less than broken English and with some of the very few words that I knew, I answered with my voice shaking; “Uhm…Uhm…Watch?…Watch?…I can?…I can?…Yes?”; while pointing at both of my eyes and then to the dance studios. They looked at each other confused. One of those two Dancers, realizing that I did not speak the language, replied; “Sure. Come”, “Camina-con-me”, moving his hand asking me to follow him to one of the dance studios. I humbly followed, He guided me to take a glance into one of the dance studios from the door. There was music, some kind of enchanting music. A Jazz Dance class was in progress and what I saw was simply mesmerizing.

I saw human gazelles drawing poetry with the movement of their bodies. It was fascinating. Pure beatitude. Those Dancers seemed to be floating angels soaring to the keys of that music. I was in awe, simply speechless. I stared at them, and I stared, and I stared at them once and again. One Dancer first, then another Dancer, then another one. I could not take my eyes off them. My eyes could not satiate enough.
Time stood still, or maybe it just stopped existing. I was captivated.
I don’t remember how long I stayed contemplating that Dance class idolizing those Dancers. I don’t know when or how I walked out of those studios, how or when I walked out of the elevator, or how and when I walked out of that building. I simply don’t remember. I only remember that at some point I became aware that I was again wandering the streets of downtown Chicago.
I also remember that I was smiling then. I seemed to have seen the light of a shooting star that made me feel inspired.
Now I knew that if I was going to stay in Chicago, I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to immerse myself in that world. I wanted to be a Dancer like those Dancers. I wanted to be one of them. Now I was dreaming again.

Back in “my basement”, in a conversation with myself I resolved that to change the way things were I had to get out of that place, I had to walk away from that environment around me and surround myself with different people and with a different world. Though this was not going to be an easy thing to do. Where would I go? I knew nobody. This would have to take some time. While I figured out how to resolve that small aspect I would have to continue teaching the dance classes I committed to in my contract. At least, this guaranteed me a place to sleep, “my lovely basement”.

Plus, I could feel that the weather was beginning to change. The cold was becoming more intense day by day and the nights were becoming longer. Winter was approaching. I had never experienced that kind of cold before and the worst part was that the winter had not even started yet. I did not own any piece of clothing for that type of weather. The only snow I had seen before was also in movies. Leaving my basement during this time would not be a smart thing to do at the minimum, I had heat in it.

I stuck to the schedule that I had organized under my circumstances. I continued to teach the classes under my contract and also continued with the classes for the kids that were paying me the little bit of money I was earning. This also allowed me to take my dance classes visiting a few different dance studios around Chicago. When I didn’t have enough money for transportation I’d walk in the freezing cold to go to my classes wearing every layer of clothing I owned. The cold was merciless. Every few blocks it was necessary to stop and walk inside any business along the way to warm myself up to then continue my journey. Nothing would stop me, I had to get to my dance classes. This was my only way to forget about my reality. Every day, I attended as many classes as I could from Monday thru Saturday, from 10am until 7 or 8pm. To my great fortune, at one point, I was offered a scholarship from one of these dance studios. This meant that I would not have to pay for classes anymore in exchange for cleaning the mirrors of the dance studios, sweeping the floors and keeping the place tidy. I did this happily. It was something else to occupy my mind.

Seven months went by doing this every day. When May arrived and the weather became warmer, I grabbed what little I owned and waved at “my basement” goodbye. I walked away from it, I left it behind, and the people that had offered that “contract”. I was very afraid to do this though. I felt that I was jumping off a cliff covering my eyes with both of my hands and without wings. But I felt compelled to do it even if this represented that my existence would likely have to get worse before it got any better. So I took that risk. I did so knowing and ignoring at the same time what could lie ahead. I was on my own now, more alone than before.

It all did get worse. The very little money I had saved only could afford me three nights in a hotel. In my despair to change things I thought that I would be able to resolve something different within those three days. I was obviously more than wrong. A small miscalculation from my part. After those three days in the hotel I could not say that I had a roof to sleep under. What now? I could not believe that my life had been reduced to what it was the only solution I could think of. I found myself having to sleep on a bench of one of the parks in the city of Chicago.

What happened? How did I get here? Only one year earlier I was touring China with Ballet Folklorico de Mexico and had been invited to perform for the Premier Minister of China during a special performance in his honor. My life was now diminished to how I would shower., to how I was going to feed myself, to how would I go on. I was in an emergency survival mode. The pure expression of desperation.
How I made it through this it is difficult to talk about nowadays. There are still tears when I remember and when I open up about it. Something inside crumbles, Something within still hurts, deeply. How the fears, the doubts, the impotence, and my solitude were my only company then. Somehow though, also very deep inside there was hope. I still had hope. Hope that this darkness would eventually dissipate.

Many more details of this story I have not included here. Many more moments and many more situations. Many of them are bitter ones, most of them in fact. But there are those moments that are very pleasant as well.

But this is the essence of what I lived in my early days and many months in the U.S. of A. It is how it happened and how I went through these very challenging times of survival. Pure resilience. The story and the moments that defined me into who I am now.
It was Dance that saved me. I know, I’m certain of this. Dance was my safe haven then and throughout that odyssey. It comforted me through that ordeal. I know that had it not been for Dance I would not have made it through. Because of Dance I could forget my reality, I could make the world disappear.

Attending as many dance classes as I possibly could simply meant the oxygen I breathed to me. In my dance classes I pushed myself tirelessly to the extremes out of that inspiration I felt when I danced. But I felt happy.
I was happy then.

After many months, after what seems to have been hundreds of dance classes and when I felt I was somehow ready, I started attending dance auditions for anything and anyone I could.
One day though, one very happy day, one conspicuous day during the month of June of 1988, I auditioned for the most fantastic Dance Company in Chicago which had some of the finest Dancers in the city. The Joseph Holmes Chicago Dance Theatre. It was the beginning of the summer when this Dance Company opened auditions and I attended. After a very long audition of almost three hours and to my unfathomable surprise I was invited to join the Dance Company! This was incomprehensible because my goal attending that audition was to hopefully get a scholarship but instead, I was offered a contract! Only this time it was a real contract. For the first time and two years later after arriving in Chicago my hopes had turned into a beautiful and new reality. The light of that shooting star I imagined seeing when I was wandering the streets of downtown Chicago seemed to now be a permanent light. A luminous light had just been turned on to brighten my life. I knew I had understood correctly. The Directors of the company explained to me and made sure that I understood that they wanted me to join the Dance Company. I left the dance studios feeling incredulous. My heart was beating rapidly out of my excitement. My breathing was also very accelerated of pure joy. And when I walked out of the building I started to cry. I cried and cried some more. I couldn’t see where I was walking because of the tears pouring down so I sat on the sidewalk until I could calm myself down. Alone with no one around me to celebrate this. But I felt happy. I was immensely happy.

Being a Dancer with the Joseph Holmes Chicago Dance Theatre, gave me the opportunity to perform around the U.S. as well as abroad, fortunately receiving great reviews. It gave me the honor to work with two Dance luminaries, two dance legends of Chicago and of the world of Dance in general; Harriet Ross and Randy Duncan. My mentors, my saviors, and to whom I will forever be grateful. They both gave me an opportunity when the fire inside me was extinguishing. They ignited in me fire and hope again. I was embraced by them and by those fabulous Dancers I danced with. They nurtured me, they guided me, they coached me. They were patient with me even when I didn’t deserve it. And for that reason and for everything they did for me during those extreme rough times, I can say I owe them my life.

I will also be forever grateful to Homer Bryant, Nan Giordano, Larry Long, Joel Hall, Maria Tallchief , Marjorie Tallchief and Birute Barodicaite, for their teachings and inspiration during every minute of every day of every class I took from them.

This is my story of resilience. Dance Saved Me. I own everything I am to Dance. Dance is my element. It is who I am and what I am, and It is how I best express myself. Dance gave me a purpose and a dream to dream again.

This is why I am a Dancer, forever.
I am a FOREVER DANCER.

This is why I named my business, my company, Forever Dancer. and with it I’m proud to say that I’ve spread joy and inspiration to countless individuals through the art of dance. This is how I envision my legacy, or at least how I hope to be remembered. Over the years, I’ve witnessed firsthand the profound impact my work has had on people’s lives. It’s incredibly rewarding to know that through my passion, I’ve inspired, touched, and made a difference in the hearts and souls of so many. This is the legacy I strive to build—a legacy rooted in connection and transformation.
would say that seeing my own brand being accepted by those who believe in what I do makes proud. Who knows how far the FOREVER DANCER brand will go but it is more than humbling when I see our Forever Dancers proudly wearing the dance gear, our jewelry, and attending our different retreats.

I have two two new projects I have been working on. One of them is coming soon into existence and after working on it for the past two years. My very own Mezcal brand named Señor Suárez. A venture my son started to honor the memory of my deceased Dad and of my beloved Mom.

And my other project has to do with the writing of my story. A book I am planning to name Forever Dancer. – an endeavor I am hoping to finish this current new year. I feel much pride about these two enterprises.

But if I am to mention what I am the most proud of, I will say that it is the day I became a man. The day when my son was born and I witnessed and helped with his birth. Because this was the moment when I held him in my arms for the first time and knew I was his Dad. and for this was the moment I came to understand. the why. of the reason of my existence.

www.ForeverDancer.com

There is so much advice out there about all the different skills and qualities folks need to develop in order to succeed in today’s highly competitive environment and often it can feel overwhelming. So, if we had to break it down to just the three that matter most, which three skills or qualities would you focus on?

I believe that my most important assets are my always present creativity; the ability to adapt to the imminent changes; and even probably more important, my capacity to evolve with the endless challenges I have faced.

My advice I would like to share it by using a segment of a writing by one of my favorite Poets which I keep ever present when road becomes hard to walk on.

“Don’t give up, please don’t give way,
Even if the cold burns,
Even if fear bites,
Even if the sun sets,
And the wind goes silent,
There is still fire in your soul
There is still life in your dreams.”

Okay, so before we go we always love to ask if you are looking for folks to partner or collaborate with?

I am looking for ways to extend and grow my brand nationally. At the present time I offer dance/gym clothing as well as Dance Retreats around the U.S. and Mexico. My Forever Dancer clothing line is very successful within my local market so I am certain that it will be very well accepted in all the markets.
This year 2025 I am organizing twp Dance Retreats to Tulum, Mexico, for the month of October; and one more to New York City for the month of December. Both for this current year 2025.

Regarding my new mezcal brand, I am also looking to bring it to the United States. My mezcal is 100% handmade and it gives the soul of Mexico. We will be opening our first Mezcaleria in Mexico within this year and I am looking for distributors that would want to bring the best drink Mexico has to offer.

I can be reached via email at;
[email protected]

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.ForeverDancer.com
• Instagram: foreverdancer_tm
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Foreverdancers
• Youtube: Forever Dancer. @foreverdancer1

Image Credits

Cuic Suarez