WHEN THE ANNOUNCEMENT came that breaking would make its Olympic debut in Paris, the general feeling from the hip-hop community was one of caution. For years, the WDSF (World DanceSport Federation), had petitioned for dance to be included within the Olympic line-up, and competitive dance practises like Ballroom and Latin had been top of the list. But when they failed to cross the line, Breaking — because of the physicality behind it — was the next obvious choice.
This wasn’t something that our community had been actively pushing for. Of course, we hoped that the Olympics would provide a mainstream platform for breakers, and that it would bring skilled b-boys and b-girls to the world stage. But there was also a feeling that all our culture has fought for — its origins within political and social justice movements — would be misrepresented through the lens of this large-scale, corporate, sporting event.
Breaking already has an international platform. No matter where you go in the world, there are breaking organisers and forums that you can tap into. That’s what sets us apart.
Breaking doesn’t have to happen in a studio or in a gym. After all, the artform emerged on the street when marginalised black African-American, Hispanic and other global majority young people came together in battle; their own protest against gang and street violence. Breaking can happen anywhere as long as people are gathered together.
The issue for us is that opportunities are not equal when.