‘DWTS’ star, mocked as orphan for spotty skin, dies at 29, – adoptive mom dies next day

The ballet world is mourning the death of Dancing with the Stars Michaela Mabinty DePrince, an inspirational ballerina who beat staggering odds to become one of the world’s most famous dancers.

Michaela, an orphan from war-torn Sierra Leone, was a dancer with the Boston Ballet who gained widespread notoriety after starring in the 2011 documentary First Position. She died September 10 at only 29.

Adding to the family’s tragic loss, Michaela’s adoptive mom – who rescued Michaela from the filthy shelter where she was told she was “too ugly” to find a family – died only 24 hours later.

After her father was brutally killed in war-torn Sierra Leone and her mother died from fever, four-year-old Michaela Mabinty DePrince was abandoned by her uncle in a shelter where staff every day tried to break her spirit.

Known then as “Number 27” a young Michaela had little hope of finding a family as she had vitiligo, a condition that causes patches of skin to lose pigmentation.

The young girl, called “the devil child” because of her patchy skin, was told repeatedly that she was too ugly to be picked.

“We were all ranked from the most favored to the least, and I was at the very bottom for being rebellious and having a skin condition called vitiligo, which produces white freckles on my neck and chest,” Michaela said, adding she slept on a grass sleeping mat with “Number 26.”

Aside from the vomit-stained nightgown she was wearing, all she had was a magazine, which according to Glamour had (literally) blown onto her face. And on the cover was a ballerina en pointe – a dancer supporting all her body weight on the tips of her toes.

“The dancer looked beautiful and happy, that’s what caught my eye,” Michaela tells Glamour. “I wanted to be happy.”

And the crumpled old photo of the ballerina was the first thing she handed Elaine DePrince, who took her to her new home in New Jersey.

“There was so much love right away,” said Michaela, who over the next two decades would be the prima ballerina on the cover of magazines. “I had never been surrounded by something like that.”

‘My life is proof’

Michaela’s passion for dancing was ignited at a young age, and she pursued her dreams with remarkable dedication.

In 2011, Michaela became one of the stars of First Position, a documentary that followed six gifted dancers leading up to the competition for a place in the prestigious American Ballet Theatre’s Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis School of Ballet (JKO)

She not only earned a spot but was also awarded a scholarship to study at JKO.

The same year the award-winning documentary was released, Michaela also appeared on Dancing with the Stars.

“My life is proof that no matter what situation you’re in, as long as you have a supportive family, you can achieve anything,” Michaela said.

In 2012, the talented ballerina joined the renowned Dance Theatre of Harlem, where she continued to shine as a rising star. Her exceptional talent and grace later led her to the Dutch National Ballet, where the War Child Ambassador further established herself as a formidable presence in the ballet world.

While she was living in Amsterdam and training for The Nutcracker, she received a call, inviting her to travel to New Orleans and dance in Beyonce’s hour-long video, Lemonade, which was released in 2016.

Speaking with the Wall Street Journal of meeting the pop sensation, Michaela said, “She walked up to me and said, ‘It’s such an honor to have you here.’ I was really cheesy and said, ‘The honor is mine.’ I was on cloud nine.”

‘Beacon of hope’

On September 10, her family released a heartbreaking message about the principal soloist with the Boston Ballet.

“Rest in Power,” the post starts about the dancer who died on September 10. “With pain in our hearts, we share the loss of star ballerina Michaela Mabinty DePrince, whose artistry touched countless hearts and whose spirit inspired many, leaving an indelible mark on the world of ballet, and beyond.”

The Facebook post describes Michaela as an inspiration who “stood as a beacon of hope for many, showing that no matter the obstacles, beauty and greatness can rise from the darkest of places.”

The cause of her death has not yet been released.

Mom ‘spared the pain’

Only 24 hours after Michaela’s sudden death, her doting adoptive mom Elaine DePrince died on September 11 “during a routine procedure in preparation for a surgery.”

A family statement on Facebook explains that at the time of Elaine’s death, she was unaware that her daughter had died.

 “As unbelievable as it may seem, the two deaths were completely unrelated. The only way we can make sense of the senseless is that Elaine, who had already lost three children many years ago, was by the grace of God spared the pain of experiencing the loss of a fourth child.” The message continues, “What the family is going through right now is truly unimaginably painful. Grieving two family members who died within a 24-hour period is tragic and devastating. We continue to ask for privacy…”

Rest in peace Michaela and Elaine. Please share your thoughts with us and then share this story so we can all send a lot of love to the family and friends of this mother-daughter duo.

My MIL Threw Away All My Food from the Fridge – I Responded on Her Birthday

My MIL Threw Away All My Food from the Fridge – I Responded on Her Birthday

Living under the same roof with my mother-in-law had been challenging from the start. The cultural differences between us had always been a point of contention, but I never expected it to escalate to the point of her disposing of all my cooking supplies.

The food I cook, a vibrant representation of my South Asian heritage, means more to me than just sustenance; it’s a connection to my roots, my family, and my identity. However, the disdain from my mother-in-law towards my culture and the food I love became painfully evident the day I found my pantry emptied.

Kebabs roasting | Source: Pexels

Kebabs roasting | Source: Pexels

Having my mother-in-law move in was never going to be easy. The dynamics in our household shifted dramatically, but I had hoped for a semblance of respect and understanding. My husband, whose palate has embraced the diverse flavors of my cooking, has been caught in the middle of this cultural clash. His efforts to mediate have been commendable, yet the strain is visible, eroding the harmony we once shared.

A rice dish with various furnishings | Source: Pexels

A rice dish with various furnishings | Source: Pexels

The disparaging comments from my mother-in-law weren’t new to me. She had always made her feelings known, criticizing the way I eat with my hands as if it were something to be ashamed of, or the aromatic spices that filled our home, dismissing them as offensive. My husband’s attempts to defend me and educate her on the beauty and diversity of other cultures seemed futile.

Various spices | Source: Pexels

Various spices | Source: Pexels

Living with her constant judgments and disregard for my heritage was testing my patience, but I had chosen to remain silent, attributing her behavior to the stress of the quarantine.

The morning I discovered the empty pantry was a breaking point. The realization that she had taken it upon herself to throw away not just the food but a piece of my identity was shocking. Her justification, claiming it was for the sake of her son’s dietary preferences, was a blatant disregard for me, my culture, and even her son’s choices.

Jards in a pantry | Source: Pexels

Jards in a pantry | Source: Pexels

It was clear she viewed my heritage as inferior, something to be erased and replaced with what she considered “normal American food,” as if my being American wasn’t valid because of my ethnic background.

My frustration was compounded by the challenge of replenishing my supplies. The quarantine had already made grocery shopping a daunting task, and finding specific ingredients for my dishes was nearly impossible due to shortages. Returning home empty-handed to face her audacious questioning about dinner plans was the epitome of insult to injury.

A woman doing grocery shopping | Source: Pexels

A woman doing grocery shopping | Source: Pexels

In that moment, feeling belittled and disrespected in my own home, something shifted within me. I realized that remaining silent and attempting to keep the peace had only emboldened her disrespect. It was clear that direct confrontation or seeking my husband’s intervention again would not suffice. Her actions were a direct challenge to my identity and my place in this family, and I could not let it stand unaddressed.

An angry woman | Source: Pexels

An angry woman | Source: Pexels

As I stood there, facing her smug inquiry about dinner, a calm resolve settled over me. I knew that any response I gave now would only lead to more dismissals of my feelings and heritage. But I wasn’t going to play by her rules anymore. I wasn’t just going to find a way to cook with the limited ingredients I had or try to explain yet again why her actions were hurtful and unacceptable.

No, I had another plan.

A woman cooking | Source: Pexels

A woman cooking | Source: Pexels

With a clear objective in mind, I channeled all my frustration and determination into creating a masterful culinary strategy. My mother-in-law’s upcoming party, intended to be a grand social event, provided the perfect stage for my plan. She had envisioned this party as a showcase of her taste and sophistication, expecting a menu of classic American cuisine to appeal to her guests’ palates. However, I saw an opportunity to subtly introduce the very essence of my heritage that she had so vehemently rejected.

A dinner party | Source: Pexels

A dinner party | Source: Pexels

As I took over the kitchen to prepare the dishes for the party, I decided to infuse each “American” dish with a touch of Indian flair. The burgers were seasoned with garam masala, the potato salad hinted at cumin and coriander, and the apple pie was laced with cardamom. The transformation was subtle, enough to intrigue but not overwhelm, a culinary bridge between my world and hers.

A dish with potato salad | Source: Pexels

A dish with potato salad | Source: Pexels

The party was in full swing, with guests mingling and enjoying the ambiance. As they began to eat, their reactions were unanimous – surprise and delight at the unexpected flavors. One by one, they approached my mother-in-law with compliments, praising the innovative and delicious twist on traditional dishes. Each compliment was a testament to the universal language of good food, transcending cultural barriers and prejudices.

People enjoying a dinner party | Source: Pexels

People enjoying a dinner party | Source: Pexels

Caught off guard by the barrage of praise, my mother-in-law tasted the food with a critical eye, expecting to justify her disdain for Indian cuisine. However, the scene before her, a room full of guests genuinely enjoying the food, forced a change in perspective. The initial instinct to reject the unfamiliar flavors was overshadowed by the realization that her biases were unfounded. The food was not just accepted; it was celebrated.

People enjoying a meal | Source: Pexels

People enjoying a meal | Source: Pexels

This moment of revelation was pivotal for my mother-in-law. Witnessing the joy and satisfaction her friends experienced from the very cuisine she had scorned, she understood the futility of her resistance.

It dawned on her that her aversion to Indian food was merely a manifestation of her deeper biases against my cultural background. The reality that her son’s happiness was intricately linked to embracing his wife’s heritage finally broke through her stubborn prejudice.

People talking and laughing at a table full of food | Source: Pexels

People talking and laughing at a table full of food | Source: Pexels

The aftermath of the party marked a significant shift in our household dynamics. My mother-in-law’s acknowledgment of her misplaced animosity paved the way for a more harmonious coexistence. The tension that once permeated our interactions began to dissipate, replaced by a cautious mutual respect. Although this understanding did not erase all the challenges we faced, it was a crucial step towards reconciliation.

An upset older woman | Source: Pexels

An upset older woman | Source: Pexels

Despite the progress in our relationship, the arrangement of living together remained untenable for all involved. My mother-in-law, perhaps recognizing the need for space to allow our relationship to continue healing, decided to move to her daughter’s place. This decision was met with a collective sigh of relief, a necessary change that promised a fresh start for everyone.

A happy woman | Source: Pexels

A happy woman | Source: Pexels

In the end, the experience taught us all invaluable lessons about acceptance, respect, and the power of food as a unifying force. While the road to fully bridging our cultural divide would be long and fraught with challenges, the party served as a poignant reminder of the potential for change. It underscored the importance of looking beyond our prejudices and embracing the diversity that enriches our lives.

How would you have dealt with a mother-in-law like this? Let us know on Facebook!

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