I did not intend on writing this article. But sitting on the edge of my seat for the last two hours head-bopping within an inch of my life, I was so completely overcome with Stern pride I could not help myself. In good journalist form, I whipped out my notebook and did not stop madly jotting down notes until the figurative curtain closed.

I will start by saying this:  Hanna Tessler, co-producer of the show, has just given Lady Gaga a serious run for her money. Stomping out on stage in an elaborate blond wig, leather jacket (unceremoniously flung across the stage half-way through the number), and metallic black pants rivaled only by Olivia Newton-John fetching get-up in Grease, Tessler’s performance set the record straight once and for all: Jewish girls won’t stay in the kitchen. The confidence, enthusiasm, and fluidity with which she danced lit up the stage, vicariously allowing the audience to feel just as cool as she looked. Like we’ve all done in front of the mirror at one point or another, she was having a party all her own. An enthusiastic audience of over 150 women just happened to be watching.

Some live for school. Others live for attention. The more altruistic among us live for others, and those select supercilious few live for ideals. Tonight, I saw a troop of women who live for dance. Dance is an essential part of their self-expression, a deep, irreplaceable communication to the world of who they are and why.

Two dancers this evening, Etana Esral and Yali Raichlin (co-producer of the show), danced with such grace and eloquence of expression as to leave a writer, dependent upon her words, speechless. Etana Esral performed a lyrical hip-hop routine with three others (all of whom danced with pronounced grace) to the words of “I Need a Doctor,” by Dr. Dre, featuring Eminem and Skylar Grey. Now, Eminem does have an unfortunate track record of being a filthy potty mouth, but he does have those few shining moments of profundity that make us almost forgive him. This was one.

Dancing to the pulsing chorus, “You’ve been gone for so long, I’m running out of time/ I need a doctor call me a doctor/ I need a doctor to bring me back to life,” the blunt honesty of the words were translated into poetry on stage, tacitly communicating life’s ruthless transience and yet the human unwillingness to surrender.

Yali Raichlin, arguably the most technically skilled dancer in the show, danced a solo jazz routine paying tribute to the late musical giant, Whitney Houston. She walked onto an undecorated stage barefoot, no costume, no sequins. The performance that followed confirmed that any costume would only have been a distraction. The grace of her lines, toes constantly pointed, head and back erect, left even the loquacious emcees of the evening (Maayan Elyashiv and Dina Wecker) without comment. I have had conversations with Yali in the past about her passion for dancing (the inquisitive person that I am, naturally I have asked). “I need it,” she has told me, several times. Not until I watched her speak on stage tonight did I fully understand what she meant.

The evening was opened by a perfectly syncopated street jazz routine, choreographed by Adina Erdfarb, featuring two single ladies and one married matron. Leah Lightstone, previously Leah Atlas, has danced since high school. And to all those who think getting married somehow equals becoming a wig-wearing, Heights residing, hobby-surrendering automaton, Leah’s performance shut them down. Demonstrating flawlessly that a married woman can be and equally dedicated, committed, and involved in Stern student life, the upbeat performance was an auspicious start to what proved a talent-packed evening.

Last semester, I sat next to Sarina Miller is a very challenging halakha class. She was able to navigate a Beit Yosef with uncanny agility, but, I must admit, I did not know that she could tap dance. Choreographing a masterful tap routine to “Let a Smile be Your Umbrella,” Sarina, Lea Bekhar, and Ruthie Heller delivered a performance of unanticipated professionalism, umbrellas of red white and blue brandished masterfully as they taped and skipped across the stage. Hairspray was brought to life with a charming Broadway dance routine, choreographed by Yali Raichlin, to the “The Nicest Kids in Town.” Leora Niderberg’s wide-eyed, 100-watt smile, not faltering for a moment, said it all. Metallic lights lit up a sharp, cool, confident lyrical jazz routine to Katy Perry’s “E.T.”, choreographed by Doren Glazer, and masterfully danced by Judy Alper (the recent lead in the Stern’s recent production of The Madwoman of Chaillot), Ariella Krentzman and Julia Siegel. A hip-hop routine choreographed by Yvette Mazloumi tore up the stage, Tali Prunzansky taking center stage, front and center, no questions asked (“All Around the World” by D&G—a must for any wanting treadmill soundtracks).

I would be remiss if I did not mention a stellar performance by the B-Notes, who could have it out with the Maccabeats at any time (White House front lawn. Be there). And finally, a sharp hip-hop routine choreographed by Michelle Navon closed the evening with a defiant bang, aptly bringing to life Beyonce’s insightful prose, “Who run the world—Girls!” If combat boots and fishnet tights didn’t get the message across, the dance routine, which, according to my fastidiously taken notes, was, “Hot!” drove the singular, resounding (albeit slightly sexist and simplistic) message, home.

It was a performance by women, for women, empowering woman. At some point, early on the show, I found myself thinking, “If only the guys could see this!” That thought, and the internal dialogue that ensued thereafter, was what truly compelled me to write this article.

We, the women of Stern College, are an incredibly diverse, talented, unique group of women. Those who incessantly prattle about the “Stern stereotype” either did not sit in the audience with me tonight, or did not appreciate what they saw. This performance was a celebration and testament to the diversity and richness of talent that exists within the Stern student body.

But it is not a talent that has to be showcased for men to benchmark its own validity. There was something beautiful, electric about an audience of all women. The dancers on stage were graceful, confident, lyrical, emotional, and downright sensual—and men were not necessary in the audience to confirm that truth. The women on stage were not dancing for attention or validation. They were dancing because they love to dance. It is a part of who they are.

I take this moment to celebrate and acknowledge the talented, dedicated, multi-dimensional, confident women of Stern College. It a community of which I am most proud to be a part.