Atlanta isn’t just where I’m from; it’s how I was formed.

I was born and raised in the southwest part of the city, where so many groundbreaking individuals call home. In Atlanta, creative icons are our next-door neighbors, classmates, and friends. Over the years, I’ve had the privilege of watching people in my community grow into their potential. They have gone on to shape not only Atlanta but the world.

I’m a part of a new generation of Atlanta movers, and a champion of my parents’ legacy through their musical collective, The Dungeon Family. From the moment I came into this world, I was surrounded by music, movement, and creative freedom. That proximity shaped my sense of possibility. It taught me that I could follow an unconventional path, and that anything can be achieved with the right mindset. Growing up, my life was full of activity; between talent shows, school, and my special closeness to greatness, there was never a dull moment. But the most sacred place in my life is one where my community has always gathered: Cascade Skating Rink. It’s more than a skating rink: it’s a cultural landmark, a gathering place, and a sanctuary.

My personal relationship with Cascade began early. I remember my mother buying me a pair of skates and taking me to the rink. Even while my mom was there watching me, I couldn’t rely on her for too much instruction—I had to teach myself. I followed the elders, paid my “wood tax,” fell, got back up, and kept going. Over time, I made skate friends who welcomed me into their circle. Learning a new skill among experienced skaters could have been intimidating, but at Cascade, it felt comforting. 

At the rink, generations move together. Younger skaters learn by watching the elders. It becomes a rejuvenating ritual, where bodies dance freely across the wood, music flows through the walls, and everything gets left out on the floor. People who don’t even skate come just to observe, feel the rhythm, and catch a vibe. For many, a Friday night at the rink is a place to physically release the weight of the week. The rink became especially important for me when I experienced a period of depression. In those days, skating became my release. I went to the rink three to four times a week, skating for hours at a time. Slowly, I began to feel lighter and healthier, mentally and physically. I felt like I could fly.

Skate nights in Atlanta are not about spectacle. They are about community, roots, and shared joy. Because of that, what fuels skate nights matters. Yerba Madre entered my routine when I started looking for a smoother boost. I wanted a natural drink that wouldn’t overload me with sugar or make me crash suddenly. That’s when Yerba Madre became part of the ritual. It brings clean, natural energy that keeps my legs moving and my focus sharp. It’s the kind of fuel you pass between friends in between laps to keep it building. Yerba Madre matches the pace and pushes it forward.

In Atlanta, feeling alive is sacred, often rhythmic, and always in motion. And for some of us, it happens on eight wheels under neon lights, surrounded by people who remind you exactly who you are. Today, Sunday nights at Cascade are still thriving, and Wednesday adult nights are busier than ever; it’s further proof of the rink’s power. It creates structure, discipline, and community for people navigating difficult realities. With music and joy in the air, this rink is where I found an ultimate sense of belonging and the courage to come to life every time the wheels hit the floor.