Luckily, the calls don’t come from telemarketers or prerecorded messages soliciting money. They come from people who want to tell Hudson what they’re wearing.

It’s usually something red.

Hudson, a 41-year-old Wolverhampton resident, still can’t wrap her head around it.

“I’ll get b-girls phoning me if there’s a b-girl battle in, say, Germany, France, or America,” she says. “[They say,] ‘We’re about to go into a battle – got any tips for us?’ I say, ‘Who’s this?’ ‘I’m a b-girl, and we’re wearing red.’ I think, wow. And to tell you the truth, I don’t know what to think of it. It’s just something I need to get used to.”

The calls started about five years ago, when a friend happened to ask Hudson if she had ever Googled the phrase “B-girl Bubbles” – a name Hudson hadn’t heard in years.

As it turns out, b-boys, b-girls, and DJ’s were blowing up a UK-based b-boy forum asking if anyone knew the whereabouts of the legendary pioneer known as Bubbles. Intrigued, Hudson replied – that had been her b-girl name when she was a child.

After exchanging numbers with a few of the forum members, Hudson spoke to one of the b-girls who had been searching for her. The b-girl explained that b-girls around the world — especially those in the UK — wore red because they saw Hudson as an inspiration.

“Because of me? Why?” Hudson asked.

The b-girl’s answer was straightforward.

“Because of Electro Rock.”

Though not nearly as well known as Style Wars or Wild Style, Electro Rock is generally regarded as one of the UK’s seminal hip-hop films.

Taking a peek into the UK scene’s early days, the film revolves around the happenings of the homonymous festival at London’s Hippodrome in March of 1985. Radio personality Mike Allen hosted the showcase, which featured a cameo by hip-hop legend Afrika Bambaataa.

Electro Rock is better remembered, however, for highlighting some of the UK’s earliest hip-hop pioneers, including a group of kids from Wolverhampton introduced simply as “the b-boys.”

There were times we went to the club and couldn’t perform and couldn’t get in because we were black kids. They saw us as trouble kids, street kids, ghetto kids.

In the documentary, the scene plays out like a sequence from any young dancer’s dream: the crew, mostly clad in blue jumpsuits, steps on stage into the flashing lights and begins a popping routine.

As the dancers begin to uprock, Allen’s voice abruptly cuts in over the thumping Willesden Dodgers track.

“Hey – check the one in red. It’s a girl!”

The boys’ routine ends, their blue-clad bodies tangled in a knot of limbs. Bubbles steps toward the audience in a glow of red, arms outstretched to snatch the audience’s attention from the air.

And then she transforms into a buzzing red blur – a furious funnel of windmills and backspins.

Cut to audience members looking ecstatic – a response still echoed by YouTube commenters today:

OMG!!

This bgirl got some dope power mills. Is she still breakin? And this was 1986? Dopest i? have seen for bgirl windmills, as good as most top bboys i have ever seen. Wicked!
Anyone got more clips of her? Want to know more.

omg was that giirl wearing a skirt!!!??!? wowo that was crazy insane i never seen everythin happen sooooo fast wowo bet they were? definitly breathless..

And just like that, with a nine-word introduction and one run, Hudson effortlessly made the transition from being mistaken as some street boy to becoming a world-famed pioneer.

It’s an inspiring story. There’s just one problem: that’s not really how it happened.

History – especially hip-hop history – has a funny way of making everything seem like it was carefully organized and planned.

Except the experts say that Grand Wizard Theodore accidentally invented the scratch when he absentmindedly moved a record while his mother chastised him for his loud music. Supposedly, Don Campbell invented the entire style of locking when he failed at imitating his friends’ dance moves. And legend has it that Crazy Legs unintentionally rolled into a continuous backspin – a move that evolved into what is now called a windmill.

Hudson, too, had no intentions of becoming a legend or making any kind of statement. She just liked to dance.

The daughter of Jamaican immigrants, Hudson didn’t expect for an American fad to place her in the annals of history. As an African Caribbean in England, she had enough of an identity crisis as it was.

“We didn’t fit in. Our parents told us we were from the UK. On the street, they called us Jamaicans. It was frustrating,” Hudson says. “There were times we went to the club and couldn’t perform and couldn’t get in because we were black kids. They saw us as trouble kids, street kids, ghetto kids. We had to go through barriers and boundaries.”

Hip-hop caused internal struggles as well. Growing up with idols who were more Bob Marley and Jimmy Cliff than Afrika Bambaataa and Kool Herc, Hudson had a hard time justifying the new culture to her peers – or to herself.

“For us to come into hip-hop, people from the Jamaican culture thought we were crazy,” Hudson says. “They couldn’t understand what we were doing. We used to call it space music. ‘Planet Rock’ – can you imagine how strange that was for us? We couldn’t understand those lyrics.”

Even the fashion was alluringly impractical.

While Hudson and her brothers sought to emulate the fashion of American hip-hoppers – with goose down jackets, flashy belt buckles, Kangol hats, sports tracksuits, and Cazal glasses – they’d change in the bathrooms once it came time to dance. The clothes they wore to impress were too uncomfortable and, except for knock-offs, too expensive to justify ruining.

“We weren’t used to these fat laces because they didn’t keep the trainers firm on our feet,” Hudson says. “Adidas are the most uncomfortable trainers I’ve ever worn.”

Over time, Hudson and her crewmates – many of whom were her brothers – did manage to win sponsorships and gigs. But, like the clothes she had her brothers wore to clubs, the prospect of being a big-time b-girl was more a persona than a reality.

At performances, Hudson and her brothers rarely made over a few pounds each. Since she was under 18 for most of her dancing career, Hudson was lucky to even enter most of the venues where she performed. When she did, she worried that her parents would get in trouble for negligence.

Even Electro Rock was supposed to be just another smalltime gig – a chance to have some fun and make a few pounds.

Hudson was only 14 when she and her brothers auditioned for a music video. But the fateful shoot ended up being something entirely different.

“I just went thinking me and my brothers were gonna do some filming for a pop video, not knowing I was coming to some big nightclub with thousands of people there,” Hudson says. “I was nervous because I had never seen so much hip-hop in my life. You’re talking a little girl at the time who didn’t have no idea about the hip-hop culture. All I wanted to do was dance … We were street kids. We wasn’t professional performers.”

So, hearts racing, they danced. They were introduced as the Wolverhampton B-Boys (not “the b-boys”). They danced for 15 minutes to a Newcleus song (which was later parsed down to a little over two minutes, then dubbed with the Willesden Dodgers song).

And those legendary nine words?

Hudson didn’t hear them during the performance, or at any time that night.

I don’t see myself as a legend or a pioneer. I’m only focused on raising my family.

“At the time, people thought I was a little boy,” Hudson says. “It was only after when they was editing the Electro Rock music video, when I signed a contract, I signed a female name. It was only then they realized I was a girl.”

The adrenaline flow slowing after the show, Hudson and her brothers rushed straight home. Big as the performance was, it was still just another performance. It was late, and they were still young.

Hudson continued to dance until she actually became old enough to enter those same clubs legally.

Then, after only four years of dancing, she quit.

Over the course of the next two decades, responsibilities like school and parenthood slowly blanketed memories of red tracksuits and windmills.

For a hip-hop and b-girl pioneer, Hudson still doesn’t listen to much hip-hop. She does not live the “break life.”

The b-boy anthems have long since faded away to make room for classic reggae – or the sound of her son playing Playstation 3. Hudson prefers to stay in, even when there are b-boy events taking place nearby.

In her free time, she trains as a martial artist with a focus on Thai boxing. (“I love dancing around the ring – fool can never figure me out or catch me,” she says. “It gives me the same energy as b-boying but with more contact with your opponent.”)

But the bulk of Hudson’s time goes towards being a mother and working or studying to become a medical scientist.

“I don’t see myself as a legend or a pioneer,” Hudson says via a Skype call. “I’m only focused on raising my family. I’m just a career woman. I’m a mother. I think that’s how it is – just fitting in. I quite enjoy going to work, meeting people, meeting patients. I’ve never seen myself as a b-girl.”

Hudson’s fans across the globe, however, beg to differ.

After her twenty-year hiatus from dancing, Hudson learned that she had a fanbase that didn’t just think of her as a b-girl pioneer. Somewhere along the line, people had begun to call her the UK’s first b-girl.

It was like Electro Rock all over again – it wasn’t what she thought she had had signed up for, but she rolled with it anyway. Except this time, it was on a much larger scale.

“Many pioneers come to me, saying, ‘You are the first; you are the queen.’ I just take it on board and get on with it,” Hudson admits. “No one’s really ever said, ‘You’re not the first.’ It’d be difficult to find out who was the first. Normally, if [a craze] hits London first, it’ll hit in Wolverhampton in maybe two weeks. So I can say I was the first b-girl who rocked windmills the way I did. Or is it because I’m the first to hit the media like this?”

Her MySpace page is a little blunter:

“MY LIFE IS NOT ABOUT BEEN THE FIRST UK B GIRL ANYMORE. ITS ABOUT ME EDUCATING MY SON TO BE A STRONG BLACK MAN…AND NOT A VICTIM TO THIS SYSTEM!!! THIS IS WHAT I AM ABOUT!”

Luckily for those who seek advice, Hudson doesn’t dismiss fans with a “Sorry, I don’t really care about being the first b-girl. In fact, I don’t really care about being a b-girl, period.”

In person, she lacks much of the pretense and jadedness that can creep into the voices of established dancers.

Unlike many b-boys and b-girls from generations past, Hudson doesn’t have any problems with the new generation of YouTube dancers. She feels that b-boying is on the right path with the media attention it’s getting – though she believes it remains the individual dancer’s responsibility to protect the culture from exploitation.

And it’s not a rare occasion that Hudson herself will browse the Internet for new b-boy styles, occasionally even giving tips to new dancers seeking help.

“I love watching footage of people [dancing] in their houses,” she says. “It reminds me of my days when we were doing it in my house.”

Hudson first learned to dance from her brothers, adopting bits of their style and moves into her own flavor. With the Internet, she says younger dancers have the advantage of being able to learn directly from the active founders of the dance.

“Don’t just go on the Internet and find an article and believe that article,” she says. “There’s a saying that a man without knowledge is a tree without roots. If a tree don’t have roots, it cannot bear fruit – it cannot grow and blossom and reach out its branches. If the b-boy don’t have this information, he can’t reach out, he can’t blossom, he can’t grow in a b-boy culture. He has to go to the founders. The true pioneers that still love the culture – they are still there.”

As it turns out, Hudson even has a number of nephews, nieces, and cousins of her own who are getting into b-boying. They know her as their auntie rather than as Bubbles the pioneer. She laughs as she points out that she’s more likely to learn moves from them than to teach them.

But if they were to ask for advice, she’d first give them the same, borderline-off-putting tip she gives to any b-boys and b-girls who take the time to ask:

Get a profession you can fall back on. Go to university and train in a profession where you know if b-boying and the art world don’t work for you, you have something else you can fall back on.

“Get a profession you can fall back on,” Hudson says. “Go to university and train in a profession where you know if b-boying and the art world don’t work for you, you have something else you can fall back on.

“I thought was gonna be a dancer for the rest of my life,” she explains. “We have dreams as young people. I’ve always been involved in the medical field, and I look back now and wonder, why didn’t I finish it?  I was so caught up in the dance.

“Take three years out. Get a degree, a diploma, a profession — one that you can take anywhere in this world,” Hudson continues. “When I made a comeback in 2005, b-boys and b-girls was telling me their profession was b-boying. Now, b-boys and b-girls are business people. I had never heard that before. I’d come to a new culture. A profession is something where you are trained to be an expert at what you do. You can take it anywhere in the world. I’m not saying they can’t be professional b-boys and b-girls – what I want to say to them now is, get a profession that you’ll have when you’re 70.”

Hudson doesn’t seem to intend for her advice to be pessimistic or discouraging. She’s just recommending what seemed most practical in her situation. Though she doesn’t consider herself to be very “hip-hop,” she manifests its unofficial motto – take what you have, however limited it may be, and use it to express yourself.

It’s no different than the perspective she has when it comes to b-girls standing at a crossroads of dancing like a guy or a girl. Again, Hudson’s advice is a little bit out of left field.

“How I see the dance is you perform to your ability and how your body responds to how it moves,” she says. “I didn’t want to be a boy. I didn’t think I was a boy. I was just dancing, and people thought I was a little boy. It’s just the energy and movements I had. I put all that aside and say, just dance and enjoy it. And whatever category people put you in, so be it.”

She backpedals a bit and gives herself a little credit.

“When I see b-girls now, and they look like b-boys in how they move, I have to give credit there,” she says. “If you move like a b-boy, you’ve got energy, power, structure, and control. That, for me, is the definition of b-boying.”

Even with her busy schedule, Hudson occasionally comes back to the video that made her famous.

When she encounters fans asking for windmill help, she’ll refer to the clip to demonstrate her technique (the secret to getting power is in the hips, she says). But it’s still a bit disorienting for her to watch.

“When I look back at this clip of Electro Rock, it really doesn’t seem like I’m looking at myself dancing at all,” she says. “I’m trying to get used to the idea of what it all means. I just see a little girl in a red tracksuit. I don’t see myself as B-Girl Bubbles no more. She was from the ‘80s. This is Hanifa today. This is Hanifa.”

It’s not to say that Hudson has lost her passion for dance. She still counts dancing as one of her favorite hobbies. Hudson says she and her son enjoy having b-boy sessions at their home.

She just no longer identifies with the “b-girl” title. Her body no longer moves the way it used to; her knees hurt sometimes. Passing years and having a kid have limited her flexibility and her arsenal of moves.

“The first thing [people] ask me is, ‘Can you still do your windmills?’ I say, ‘Yeah, but they’re not as fast as they used to be,’” Hudson says. “Even when I do windmills, I get dizzy. But I can still hold my private parts and do windmills.”

She laughs. “Somebody’s gotta hold them.”

And for the most part, the footage makes up the majority of small pool of remnants that document her legendary past.

She still keeps a small gallery of the clothes she wore over 20 years ago: her infamous tennis skirt, her Nike Impax (or her Toprocks, as she calls them), and her blue jumpsuit.

And, of course, there’s her red jumpsuit from Electro Rock – the one that’s still spurring b-girls to call her, asking her for advice and telling her that they want to pay tribute.

“Wear what you feel comfortable in,” Hudson tells them. “It’s nice of you to do that, man, it’s good – but make sure you’re comfortable in what you’re wearing.”

Related posts:

1. Letter from the Editor: A Note on “The Lady in Red”
2. Lady Jules, Emily and Elizabeth Dell talk B-GIRL
3. Not Just Any B-Girl: A-B-Girl

Please note: this is not a comprehensive list, nor is it meant to be.

As perpetual students of the dance and culture, we know there will never be any history or list that fully satisfies everyone in the b-boy community. In other words, we’re not perfect, and neither is this list. We know that.
So, instead of trying to achieve the impossible and please everyone, we decided to keep in the spirit of the holidays and make it a family affair. We asked some of our b-boy family and acquaintances to chime in with their personal favorites.

We tried to keep it diverse, asking b-boys, promoters, DJs and even our own readers. We also allowed each person to use whatever criteria they wanted, ranging from battle records to influence to fame and beyond. Each list is purely subjective. Collaboration was minimal.

The results? Well, you can check them out below. But see this not as a definitive, end-all list, and more as a springboard for further discussion into the next decade. Feel free chime in with your own thoughts and lists in the comments section.

Thanks for reading, and happy holidays.

ALPHATRION – RISEN FROM THE ASHES

Photo provided by Tammy Tso

10. Godoyski (Rock So Fresh Crew) – When I first started b-boying, I didn’t really have a full appreciation of what you could do with footwork or how good it could look until I saw Godoyski get down (He was then a member of Sound Savages in Atlanta). After practicing with him a few times and getting to know him, I started leaning more towards footwork and haven’t looked back since. He and his crew are still doing a great job of showing just how good footwork can look.

9. Doeboi Fresh (Risen from the Ashes) – I saved the last two spots for two b-boys who were important to me personally. The first is Doeboi Fresh from my own crew, Risen from the Ashes. Doe’s one of the most underrated b-boys in the South. Those who have come to Atlanta and seen him dance can attest to the fact that he’s dope but he’s also one of the nicest people on the planet. He’s consistently clean and always entertaining to watch. I’m not just saying any of this because he’s on my crew. He could leave RftA tomorrow and call me a loser and I’d still think the same thing (except the nicest guy on the planet part).

8. Skeme Richards/DJ Basic – I wanted to include a DJ, but it was a toss-up between these two. Both play in a style that I really enjoy, going outside of just the break and actually using an entire song to give b-boys new things to rock. They’re also constantly digging and bringing new things to the table.

7. Cros1 – Created the concept of the b-boy entrepreneur… promoting, a clothing line, a series of shops, DVD’s, etc. He created a template that a lot of other b-boys have started to follow to varying degrees of success. Aside from that, he was the founder of Freestyle Session, without a doubt one of the most successful events in the world.

6. Dyzee (Supernaturalz) – Although he wasn’t a major inspiration for my personal style, I always appreciated what he brought to the dance in terms of threading and intricate flows using your body in interesting ways. I also think he deserves some recognition for his judging system, which might still have some kinks, but brings something new to competitions.

5. Free (Circle of Fire) – One of the few b-boys who I think can really meld multiple styles of dance into something truly unique and enjoyable to watch. You can see elements of b-boying, house, capoeira, and jazz, and it all melds together in a way that allows him to express himself better than a lot of other dancers.

4. YNOT (Rock Steady Crew) – He’s the reason a lot of people are playing with the beat more. Before him, there weren’t a lot people hitting anything other than the most obvious aspects of a song (snare, stabs, etc). Now people are using guitar riffs, horns, basslines and everything, all thanks to clips of him in toprock battles or on stage at RSC Anniversary.

3. RoxRite (Break Disciples/Renegades) – Probably the cleanest b-boy of the decade. His freeze stacks are always sharp, and I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him screw up.

2. Abstrak (Skill Methodz) – The definition of flow when it comes to b-boying. Everything he does is fluid, and I’m always surprised by what he comes up with in his runs.

1. Megus (Boogie Brats) – Pioneered a whole style of b-boying and was really one of the b-boys I could say can fall into the category of legend. I can remember hearing his name an awful lot in early 2000’s, and in an era before YouTube, that says a lot.

BARRY RABKIN/B-BOY GRIZ – CYPHERSTYLES.COM STREET DANCE SOURCE

B-BOY PRYME – MORE THAN A STANCE FEATURED READER

CALVIN – MORE THAN A STANCE

Photo provided by Monica Chang

10. Moy – I think a lot of b-boys still go through a period where they want to be Moy, from his explosive moves to his aggressive-yet-controlled battle demeanor. I think that one B-Boy Hodown clip summed it up with that text that said something like “OH SHIT IT’S MOY!!!!!” No, really, watch out, it’s Moy.

9. Tells One/Rebirth – Give me some of whatever he’s having. His energy and battle persona are nuts.

8. Dyzee –The first time I saw Dyzee dance, I was completely convinced that there was either something wrong with my tape, my VCR or his legs. I couldn’t tell what exactly was wrong, but something was definitely not normal.

7. Shie-Chan – The last time I was this scared of a Japanese girl was when I saw The Ring. My first exposure to her was a battle video in which she calmly flicked off the camera for no apparent reason.  Then she actually started dancing, and the hardcore meter went through the roof.

6. Rawbzilla – You know those sets and moves you think of when you’re daydreaming/tired/high, and then you try them and feel stupid because they’re ridiculous/impossible/lame? Rawbzilla is the guy who takes all those and makes them look cool.

5. Revolve – It’s pretty impossible to find any footage of this guy online, but even thinking about the stuff he used to do gets me more hyped than seeing some of the biggest names in b-boying today. Revolve of Birmingham, Alabama’s BMW Crew singlehandedly made me see the beauty in originality and foundation. His jangly toprock and his skittery footwork—I can’t even explain it. Next.

4. Kid David – His stuff just looks cool.

3. Born – Yeah, totally predictable choice, I know. But it takes extreme talent to make the smallest, simplest movement completely oversaturated with b-boy flavor.

2. Abstrak – The first time I saw Abstrak dance, I just got really confused. I had no idea what the hell was going on—I just didn’t have a grid for it. Most people would look stupid taking on a name like “Abstract,” but Abstrak lives up to it and then some. I still don’t understand how he does what he does, but it’s mystifying. If people made a screensaver of Abstrak’s stuff, they’d probably make a lot of money.

1. Vengeance/Megas – I don’t even know the right way to spell his name(s), and I have even less of an idea of how to begin explaining all the reasons he’s dope. Yeah, that dope.

PAUL – MORE THAN A STANCE

Photo provided by Tammy Tso

Juse Boogy – The first b-boy whose style I tried to bite. Watching him battle alongside Jeromeskee in the first Lords of the Floor was a b-boy-life changing experience for me. He epitomizes the word “smooth” to me.

Abstrak – One of the reasons I like Abstrak is because he’s unpredictable. That’s because what he does isn’t logical. Because he’s superhuman.

Moy – Everything Moy does just makes sense when you watch it. Each move leads into the next in a way that seems completely obvious and natural. Until you try his moves, and then you realize he’s a freak of nature. I also dig his no-nonsense battle persona. Get in, get out, stay quiet.

Megas – He was bound to show up on this list if not just for his legacy. Everyone bites him, no one knows where he is, and he seems to be the only b-boy who the forum lurkers don’t talk shit about. Add to that the fact that he actually is as dope as the hype surrounding him, and you have the recipe for a legend.

KMel – “YOU DID THAT RAINBOW TWICE!” Seemingly one of the scariest b-boys alive, and not just because of his attitude. I think that’s about all I have to say about him… just watch him battle.

Casper – I’ve just never seen anyone else like him. His energy is raw, his flow is super creative, and he knows how to tell a good story when he puts it all together.

Cloud – If I collected b-boy action figures, Cloud’s would be the one still in the box in a glass case. Simply put: he just makes everything look bad-ass.

Poe One – I saw him in Total Session III in college, and I still get flashes of him dancing in that video when I’m trying to come up with new stuff. His swagger and attitude are what I remember most.

A-B-Girl – Just plain raw. Powerful, quick and sharp with all her movements.

Ronnie – One of the b-boys who made me start thinking more about the importance of transitions. Everything he does is super smooth, and each move motivates the next. One of my all-time favorites.

QKONG – BASHVILLE STAMPEDE/ILLVILLE

ROXRITE – RENEGADES CREW/BREAK DISCIPLES

TOYZ ARE US – LIONZ OF ZION/4F/ALL WAYS ROCKIN’/BEAT WAKZ

Photo provided by Monica Chang

10. Narumi (Japan) – One of the dopest b-girls I’ve seen. With dynamic footwork, crazy power combos, and blowups… Everyone is terrified of her… Everyone…

9. Dyzee (Canada) – He’s a seasoned vet. He’s been around for a long time… But he’s still killing shit… Crazy part is he doesn’t even seem like he’s hit his prime yet.

8. Kolobok (Ukraine) – Has some of the most craziest and most original freezes today. No one can match his determination or cleverness of his freezes.

7. Flying Buddha (Russia) – One of my favorite powerheads… Not into all the typical tricks of power today like doing a million 90’s or 2000’s. He is all about combos, which is what powermoves are all about. Not too many people can pull off the combos he can.

6. Soso (France) – The dopest trick b-boy I know of… Blow ups after blow ups after blow ups… On top of blow ups…

5. Lil G (Venezuela) – The underdog… Who would have expected someone from Venezuela to come out with some of the craziest power, enough to compete against KYS, Cico, Punisher, Bruce Lee, you name it…

4. Lilou (France) – Only two-time winner of Red Bull BC One and extremely influential over in the Europeans.

3. Thesis (West Coast, USA) – The youngest b-boy I know of that can tear apart other seasoned veterans.

2. Kid Glyde (East Coast, USA) – Bringing a whole new meaning of “that New York style.” The only one I know of who is making a lot of noise in NYC.

1. Hong10 (Korea) – One of the nastiest, most influential b-boys from Korea… Ever…

TYRONE – THE NOTORIOUS IBE/MIGHTY ZULU KINGZ/FUNKY DOPE MANOUVRES

Related posts:

1. New Feature: Top B-Boys of the 2000s
2. Top Clips of the 2000s: Visual Shock at BOTY 2001
3. Stuff B-Boys Like: Arguing about Hong 10

Even as we were interviewing him on camera at The Notorious IBE, random bystanders would naturally gravitate toward the sound of his frequent “You know what I’m saying?”s, the way b-boys tend to naturally gravitate toward shoe stores.

There’s a reason for that: not only does Poe have the charisma of a motivational speaker, but every other thing he says is the sort of thing that can flip a b-boy’s entire outlook on life.

Usually, when we ask our interviewees what knowledge they could pass on to b-boys and b-girls around the world, they murmur something about YouTube or biting and move on. Poe One, on the other hand, said, “That’s a good question,” and proceeded to blow our minds for next half-hour or so. By the time he was done, we were almost inspired to the point where we wanted to shut down More Than A Stance so that we could spend the rest of our lives dancing with huge smiles on our faces.

Fortunately, we decided against that. That means that we can now share the entirety of his response with you, our readers. We’ve taken the liberty of dividing it into chapters and making basic edits for your reading comfort. Read it all at once, or take it section by section. We know it’s a lot, and nobody’s expected to agree with every word of it, but this is knowledge being dropped in one of its purest forms. We wanted to make it available those who are hungry for it.

Because even though Poe was the one eating during the interview, we were the ones being fed.

You know what I’m saying?

CHAPTER 1: WHY IT’S CALLED “BREAK”-ING

People forget. Everyone’s older now. They do breaking for different things. They grew up in a different generation. They grew up with a bunch of competitions.

You know, they call competitions “jams.” Let’s get this straight—it’s not a jam. A jam is just, you jam. It’s somebody just going off when they want to. They move when they want to. It’s not when somebody tells you to do it. In a competition, most people only battle the person that they look up to because they’ve been called up to the stage or to the floor, and it’s their turn that they have to battle. And you can see it in their eyes. The only reason they’re up there battling you is because they got called up there and it’s their turn. They would never step to you in a circle or anything like that ‘cause they want to.

That’s the difference. When we were kids, when I was a kid, we did it ‘cause we wanted to, you know what I’m saying? We threw down because we wanted to. Remember, we were kids. Most of us started at the age of 11, 12, 10 and stopped by the age of 15, 16, 17.

Now everybody’s older. They’ve been, I don’t know, domesticated, in a different way. They let a lot of things hold them back. And it shows in their breaking. Instead of breaking to be free, and instead of breaking to break—when I say breaking, it’s like throwing a cup on the floor and those pieces move sporadically and freely, no rules. Instead of doing that, they’re breaking with consciousness of their surroundings and they’re kind of looking and still being conscious of if they’re looking stupid or not stupid.

I’ll be honest. If you’re really breaking, it doesn’t matter if you’re looking stupid or not stupid ‘cause you don’t really care … When we were kids, kids didn’t care what people thought. They do in a way, but kids are brats, bro. They’re playful. And the dance was that way. It was very playful … To get away from, finally, your mother saying, “Wash the dishes. Keep your room clean. Keep this clean.” Remember, you’re still living with your mother, you know? So when you’re finally outdoors, you wanna go buck wild because nobody can tell you anything.

That’s your moment to really break. I think people lost that perspective, and they have to come back to that. And realize that, you know, I’m finally off work. Let me go home. And let me go to this session and get down. You know what I’m saying? People are making it way too technical and way too—you know, there is technicality, and there is rules and all that, but yo. Your number one thing is to get down and have fun. Get down, b.

CHAPTER TWO: HOW YOUTUBE KILLED THE B-BOY STAR

I think it’s important to get fame … I think [the key is] consistency. I think it’s longevity … When we were kids, it was like, “Yo, look at me. I’m here. Can you do this? This is how I get down.” I think it’s lost that aspect in a way.

A lot of kids want that fame on clips on the Internet. And they just lie to themselves—they just want those easy props. But really, when you see them in real life, they’re not as good as their clip because they edited the clip, or they sped up the clip. Or the clip doesn’t show how heavy they hit the floor. And they don’t really have finesse.

So when you finally get to see the kid in person, you’re like, “Yo, he has a lot of work he needs to do.” So a lot of these kids are getting these props, and it’s gassing them up … and they get mad when they lose to somebody who do got styles, that does got the finesse and everything. And they think because the guy has finesse that what he’s doing is easy.

It’s not like that. It’s hard to control what you’re doing and not slam on the floor and be graceful and have fun and finesse and still have the difficulty that others are doing … So these kids get confused ‘cause they’re like, “Yo, I’m getting all these props,” and they’re gassed up, and all of a sudden their dreams are shattered. And now they gotta get back in the lab. It either breaks them or makes them. That’s the way I see. That’s when you see who’s the b-boy and who’s not. Those that are in it just real quick that can’t handle the pressure, and then they quit because they don’t like anybody, you know, giving them constructive criticism. Or the ones that are ready to go and be like, “Oh word? You think I’m wack? Okay.” Go back in the lab and you practice and you come back harder.

“I’m not old school, man. I never even consider myself that. I’m now school, b. I never left. I’m still here.”

Video clips are lying. Video clips don’t show a lot of these things that we see in person. A lot of people judge jams from footage and they be like, “Yo, that crew won.” You weren’t at the jam. They didn’t see the camera angle from this side. They saw it from the back view and they didn’t see how many times he missed his thread … So there’s a lot of questions that video does not answer for the people that’s right there, seeing it from the front view.

It’s all about keeping that longevity, keeping that fame, being fresh. If you’re fresh, you’re gonna get props from people you want props from. I wanted props from the people that I admired. Once I got that, I couldn’t stop there. I said, “Yo, I still want to show people that you can still do this if you take care of your body and you stretch and eat right. If you feel the fire in your heart, it doesn’t matter what age.” My boys that I grew up with that stopped breaking when they were kids, when we were 16—yo, if you see them now, they look at me and they’re like, “How the hell did you stay at 179 pounds?” They look at me, and they’re 230, 240 pounds, grey hair, and they look old … and they’re like 40 years old, like me.

It’s just the dance, bro … I think I’m at my best that I’ve ever been, dancing. My understanding of the dance, I think, is better … Now I realize what I’m doing. When I was a kid, I just did it. We hit beats without even learning the song. It was just a reaction. Now I’m hearing songs, and I’m learning them, and I’m focusing on them, and I know them, and I’m feeling them. I might not be as dynamic as I was as a kid. I used to do a back handspring, land on my head with no hands and drill it. I used to do top swipes from standing and drill and land in a dead man on the floor. It’s like, I don’t do none of that stuff anymore. But I think my flow and my understanding of rhythm and speed and body movements going both ways and my sporadicness in that … has gotten way better than when I was a kid. I move like I am 20 years old, 18 years old, you know what I mean? I’m 40. You know? I know 40-year-old cats that can’t even jump right … I’m like, boom, baby freeze, bah!

So I think that, to me, is what I want and I strive for. I still want the respect from the newer generation. I got the respect from the older generation. I want to young kids to be able to look at me and not say, “Oh, he’s old school.”

I’m not old school, man. I never even consider myself that. I’m now school, b. I never left. I’m still here. So don’t consider me any generation. I just break. I just throw down. And I continue to do so. It’s like, some kids say, “Oh he’s old school.” Well, you’re gonna get my age pretty soon. Are you still gonna be breaking? I hope so. Even if you work a regular job, keep breaking.

CHAPTER 3: HOW (NOT) TO GET BEAT UP AFTER A BATTLE

I treat breaking like it’s life. You treat life respectfully, and you try to learn everything about life. It has morals. Respect. You try and treat it the way you would like to be treated. I take that same approach to the dance.

We do burns, but there’s a certain limit to not cross when you’re battling somebody. Kids nowadays, it doesn’t seem like they’ve been knocked out before. It doesn’t seem like they know that limit. They’re in your face this close. It’s like when you push them, they kinda get surprised like, “Why’d you push me?” It’s like, “Dog, you were practically spitting in my face.” You don’t do that. You don’t cross a certain line.

It’s getting really personal. And it’s always been personal, but people are taking it as a joke. They’re taking the burns as a joke. They think they can get away with whatever they want. You know, people need to be careful because they will get smacked up. You know, I’m sorry to look at the camera for that, but it’s a serious thing.

You got your brothers that battle with the raw-raw approach. Like, Ness used me as an example in his book, in “The Art of Battle.” Ness has a raw-raw approach—an-in-your-face, in-your-grill approach. But he still doesn’t get in your face … He’s looking at you, he’s taunting you, he’s throwing burns at you. But he still has his distance. Then he uses me as an example and he says, Poe takes a gentleman approach. I’ll smile through the whole battle. I’ll give the guy props. I’ll say, “Yo, that was nasty. Watch this.” Or I’ll say, “That was dope. Let me show you what you’re not doing with that.” Bah bah! And I’ll throw down … It might be talking but its more – it’s not yelling-talking, or it’s not mean-talking. It’s just talking. It’s a conversation … I don’t get mad unless somebody disrespects me.

My gestures react on people’s real reactions. If somebody’s fake with it, I don’t have any gestures at all. Okay? It’ll just be a verbal conversation with some moves. If the guy is getting me upset in the battle, then my switch turns on and I act upset. I really break with my real emotions. If I’m not mad at you, I’m not gonna fake it. I’m not gonna put a face and start breaking at you, and then after the battle’s over, the songs done, and smile. Nah! If I’m not mad at you, I’m gonna be smiling throughout the whole thing like, “Yo, that was nasty!” It’s like, “Yo, let’s exchange!” It’s an exchange of skill.

“But right when the song turns on, they get all mad. And they don’t even hate each other. It’s so fake. They’re acting. And breaking shouldn’t be acting. It should be reacting.”

Kids nowadays are faking that. They’re battling their friends and they’re in the same crew and they happen to meet up in a one on one battle… They’re, like, smiling at each other first. But right when the song turns on, they get all mad. And they don’t even hate each other. It’s so fake. They’re acting. And breaking shouldn’t be acting. It should be reacting.

[They’re] breaking to act instead of breaking to break. They’re breaking to impress instead of breaking to express. Crazy Smooth always says that; “You gonna break to impress or break to express?” I say I’m gonna break for both. I’m gonna impress you with my expression. Kids are just trying to impress. And if they don’t do it, if they don’t hear no scream, they leave the circle like, sad. Fuck that, man—excuse me.

CHAPTER 4: SORRY, ABSTRACT B-BOYING HAPPENED 30 YEARS AGO

But yo, on the real, b-boys don’t try and look for the reaction all the time. They just wanna get down, b. They’re gonna make you feel it as long as you touch that one person. Yo, there’s b-boys out there. Let’s say they win the top competitions. And they don’t have the top b-boys walking up to them and saying, “You’re nasty.” It’s usually the one that lost that people walk up and say, “Yo nigga, you nasty.” That’s because they have the essence. They felt it. Maybe they lost the competition or the battle. But their essence was naaasty. They understand the dance.

“Style is an approach. It’s not anything else. They’re trying to say a style guy is a footwork guy. I’ve seen footwork guys with no style.”

A lot of kids don’t understand. They say, “Well I did this. I did footwork. I did this. I did that. Why did I lose?” … Sometimes people enter battles, and they look at the judges and they try to break for the judges. They say, “Okay, Poe is a footwork guy.” I don’t know where the hell people got that idea. I’m not just a footwork guy, man. I do everything, man. You see me mix in flares with sweeps, mix ‘90s in with glides, freeze, go back down in to babies to a swipe to a halo to a–I do it all. Shuffles, everything man. Everything’s dynamic for me.

They think I’m a footwork guy. Well, they say “style guy.” Well, I don’t know. That whole interpretation is wrong as well. “Style guy.” You should have style with everything you do. Style is an approach. It’s not anything else. They’re trying to say a style guy is a footwork guy. I’ve seen footwork guys with no style. People got it twisted. They need to learn that there’s no such thing as a style cat or a powermover cat.

Yo, let me get back to the fact that they need to learn to just really, really just respect it all. We don’t hate on abstract styles. ‘Cause I can tell you right now, my crew itself helped develop that abstract style. You know, Style Elements, Bag of Trix from Canada. It’s always been there. Flowmaster. Kenny … It’s always been there, from the ‘80s. I bit a move from Spider from Dynamic Rockers . He used to backspin and put his leg behind his head, okay, and then go into spider freezes and walk around. That’s the ‘80s, man. I bit that move and I used to go backspin, put my leg behind my head and then go up into a headspin drill with my leg behind my head with one leg drilling.

Kids are barely doing that now, and they think it’s new school. There’s no such thing, man. Body threads, elbow tracks, everything, you know. Just the combinations of it have changed; the rhythm of it has changed. The flow of it has changed, you know?

CHAPTER 5: HOW TO START A REAL B-BOY CLUB AT SCHOOL

I think everybody just needs to stop tripping on each other and just dance. And learn about the dance. You don’t gotta break like Kenny to be a b-boy. You don’t gotta break like Skill Methodz to be a b-boy. Or Remind. You break like the people you feel. Go ahead, break. But if you’re not hitting your stuff, if it’s not clean, if it’s not this or that, then work on it until it’s clean. Nobody’s telling you that your style is wack. If somebody says your style is wack, then burn ‘em. Or work on your style until it’s better. Don’t take it the wrong way.

Yo, it’s like when I was a kid, people would burn me, and there were no classrooms, there were no workshops .There was the concrete. You were cutting class. You were in the arcade. Somebody’d tap you on the shoulder and say, “Yo, come outside.” You thought you were gonna fight. But there would be somebody waiting out there with a radio and you just had to get down. And I would get smoked, and I would go home crying like a little fucking girl, you know, and think about how I got burned, work on that move that he burned me on, and try to flip that move and go after him again. And this time I would cut class and go to his town. Take the bus to his town, or hitchhike to his town, and burn him in front of his people. That’s how it was.

I think the heart has changed, in that aspect. Kids don’t do that. They don’t go to people’s high schools anymore, knowing that there’s b-boys there. You know, we used to battle each other at rallies. You know school rallies? Like when other schools would compete like track and field and all those schools would have battles? Yo, b-boys of that school would meet up with other b-boys there and battle each other.

It’s good to be humble and friendly. But also, stand your ground, and don’t be afraid to battle cats. The young generations are scared to battle the people that are better than them. The only way you’re gonna get better is battling the people that are better than you.

It’s like, smoke me. People never want to step to me. And it gets me mad because it doesn’t keep me up to par. So I challenge myself in a circle to see who will. And I keep dancing until I have to find new motivations. Like basically, if nobody battles me, I say to myself, “Okay, I’ll go in after every person,” just to challenge myself, to see how long I can last. I’m not battling them, not looking at them. I just go in after every person. You go in? I go in. He goes in? I go in. Next guy goes in? I go in. I’m trying to run the circle, even if it’s short sets.

I’m not trying to kill it. I’m trying to conversate. Challenge myself. Because I’m getting irked, I’m getting mad, I’m getting vexed that nobody’s wanting to step to me because I’m so-called Poe One. Fuck Poe One! I’m a b-boy just like you … Smoke me, man. It’ll keep me on my toes.

It’s like, if I start getting tired in that circle after going after every one person, I let two people pass and then I go in. And then if I start getting tired after that, I start letting three people pass until I regain my stamina, and I go back to one person again. I train that way. That’s a training method to see your stamina and see how long you can last in a circle. If I did everything one way, even though its repeating, I’ll do everything the opposite way, even though it’s the same moves. It’s still the opposite way. Working on your shit—it’s a journey for me.

I’m training myself, I’m schooling people, I’m getting schooled. I’m challenging myself. I might fuck up, I might not. These kids are not learning how to train.

CHAPTER 6: FAMOUS B-BOYS HAVE FEELINGS, TOO

They’re also separating a lot of the music. They’re hitting a lot of the basic sounds. MEHRR-MEHRR. Okay. Or they’ll wait for somebody to hit a new sound. And that’s the new trend that everybody’s hitting. YNOT came out with all the horns. Now everybody’s hitting the horns. Now they’re waiting for somebody else to uplift that. Why can’t it be you leading and not always the same people leading?

And then the same people leading are the ones always getting attacked. “Ah, they’re wack; they think they’re dope.” It’s like, fuck. They don’t deserve that. We’re just trying to throw down. We’re just trying to break.

I think that kids need to realize what kind of effect they’re having on their own actions. Sometimes, we’re getting attacked, and when we attack back, they’re like, “Oh, they’re assholes.” … It’s kinda like, yo, you’re saying that I’m an old school style. You’re saying that I only do footwork … You’re missing the whole picture buddy. You don’t think that hurts? When I try and show you everything? So of course I’m gonna tell you back, “It’s like you crashed every single round. And oh, your moves are somebody else’s moves. And all you did was piece together in one set.”

Where’s your fingerprint? What move did you add to this game? I know what moves I added.

CHAPTER 7: THE RULES OF BITING

I know what moves I bit and took. And I’m humble enough to say, “This is Kenny’s. This is Flow’s. I changed it and flipped in this way.”

Half of these young cats don’t even wanna admit that. And that’s what’s missing also. Humbleness. They’re so afraid of being called a biter that they won’t admit where they got their moves from. That’s a biter if you don’t admit where you got your moves from. It’s not a biter if you get moves from people, and you show credit to those people, and you try to build from those people … That means if you blow up, and you got popular, and they interview you the way you guys interview me now, I give credit to these people. And the history stays intact.

Nowadays, these kids, you say, “Who you look up to?” And you know damn well who they look up to because you see it in their style. And they’re like, “I developed my style in the garage. Me, just practicing.”

What? Nigga, you look like Ivan, nigga, you look like this guy. And you know it. And they just can’t admit it. It’s wack when that happens. I think people need to really realize how much that can hold us back. In the future, we have to learn to swallow our pride and our dignity and be real with it. We’re never gonna move it.

That’s why we’re not teaching this in universities. That’s why ballet and other dances that have certificates to move forward—that’s why they don’t respect us. Because we’re constantly arguing … And we have this pride and biter thing mixed up. Everyone needs to chill out and respect each other and learn from each other and flip it and not be afraid.

If somebody calls you a biter, just be like, “Oh well.” We all bit something. That’s how we started. If we didn’t bite something, none of us would be doing six step or four step or five step. Which doesn’t really exist, you guys. Steps like that don’t really exist. Styles of footwork exist. That’s just how we teach it, but it didn’t exist in the ‘80s.

CHAPTER 8: WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A MAN

It’s about no easy props, man. It’s about a struggle. It’s like the Bible says, who’s going into heaven? You gonna take the easy route to walk to heaven and see the gates, or you’re gonna see the rough road with the thorns and the snakes and everything like that. Go that route. Learn. ‘Cause if you go this route, you’re not gonna learn anything. You’re not gonna know what you did. They’re gonna ask how you got there. “Oh, I just walked straight.” On this side, it’s gonna be like, “Yo I had to crawl under here. I had to go through here.” … You learn a game plan to go through the hard part, the rough part, or through the dirt.

“It’s about who looks the rawest. And the rawest doesn’t mean the hardest … Frosty Freeze wasn’t the hardest b-boy, but he was the rawest style.”

Breaking’s grimy. What’s up with all this pretty shit? What’s up with b-boys looking feminine? Their toprock is feminine, and they’re acting feminine with their butts out. And footwork with their butts out. Everything is pointy toed and with their little shoes—little ballet shoes. It’s like, dog, what is that? I know the style has changed, but when did it turn feminine?

We’re men. We should break like men. We grab a crotch. We grab a crotch ‘cause we mean it. It’s like wearing girl jeans. That’s cool. I’m not gonna diss nobody. Do what you feel. Women are women. Men are men. It’s like hip-hop—this is a machismo thing. Sorry to say.

When did it look cool to be a nerd breaking? A lot of people are gonna get mad about this, but this is reality. It’s about style, man. It’s about who looks the rawest. And the rawest doesn’t mean the hardest … Frosty Freeze wasn’t the hardest b-boy, but he was the rawest style. He was a clown. He was an entertainer. He had the drunken style. He bugged out. Kenny has the Muggsy, hard-edge, sharp-edge. Ness is just, raaaw, in-your-face. Legs is smooth and lanky. He shocks his arms. These characters left their fingerprint on what this whole b-boy thing is about.

Nowadays, you don’t really see nobody focusing. Let’s say out of 100 bboys, 20 or 10 of them really get down. The rest of them are just going in there and just trotting. It’s like they’re having fun. That’s cool. Have fun. But take it serious if you’re gonna have fun. Get down, have fun. But do it for real. A lot of them don’t seem like they wanna do it for real. They mess up, they quit right away … They don’t push and they don’t strive. It seems like they haven’t struggled. It seems like they want it fast-fast-fast, easy. So they watch video clips and video clips to help them—actually not help them, to give them the creation. Like, basically everyone’s looking the same.

Clips are not letting you think for yourself. So basically, you lose your own creativity. When we were creating, there was no videos. Everything was by feeling. Everything was like, “You smoked me? Okay, you served me, man.” I’d go home and I’d try to remember your feeling of how you did the move ‘cause there was no video cameras. So I’m in my garage, just trying to capture that snap. Trying to react to your reaction. We improvise on the spot.

Nowadays, people are rewinding stuff and learning exactly how that person does it and not trying to do it the way they would do it their own self. I try to tell people it’s okay to watch footage to get inspired a little bit. But if that’s the only way you get moves, then you’re limiting yourself

You should spend more time in the lab with the floor, the music and just you than anything else. You should go to a park, play a game of basketball. Warm up, turn on the radio and jam out. And if moves that you’ve seen come in your head, try them. But you’re gonna end up doing them your way instead of slowing something down on a video and copying exactly how they do it. That’s a no-no in my book. It’s like, go in the lab, man. Get your own character.

CHAPTER 9: WOULD A B-BOY BY ANY OTHER NAME BE AS DOPE?

People have these weird names nowadays. Nobody really has a real name.

Ken Swift standed for something.

Ken. Swift. Swift wizard in footwork techniques.The acronym of “swift.” Fucking crazy meaning, nigga.

Ness. Never-ending supreme style.

Poe. Peace on earth.

One. Originality never ends.

We gave meanings to what we stand for. Now, it’s like, “What’s your name?”

“Herbert.”

“Whats your name?”

“Alex.”

It’s like, dog, what’s your style? How do you feel? It’s missing, man. We were characters, b. You know, people forget that. They think it’s just about moves. It’s not. It’s an essence. It’s an approach. Moves are a part of it. But the style, the swagger is what makes it what it is, man. If that’s missing, it’s like watching a bunch of geeks. They don’t know what the fuck they’re doing.

And it’s not about this is the new style, or it’s not about I can give my opinion … Your opinion needs to be valid before you can give your opinion. A lot of people are using that excuse nowadays. Yeah, it’s my opinion. But can your opinion be reinforced? If you don’t know what you’re talking about, my opinion is reinforced with facts, knowledge and experience. That’s where my opinion comes from. Where does yours come from?

CHAPTER 10: CONCLUSION

I just want everyone to be happy. I just want everybody to enjoy themselves. That’s the basic experience. I want to show the world that doesn’t know about breaking. Look at all these countries coming together under one roof and dancing it out with each other and respecting each other for our skill level. No guns, no war, no nothing. This needs to come out on the news instead of what they show on that that CNN crap, with the Muslims fighting this and the Christians fighting this and everybody fighting wars and bullshit. They should see how all these countries, everybody together under one fucking roof, dancing it out with smiles and happiness and everybody just going for it. I think that’s what people need to see that don’t know what’s going on this world.

That’s what IBE is, and that’s why I enjoy about being here. We build where we left off. I think this dance is a beautiful tool that God gave us to conversate with each other. I think graffiti art, rap, music, DJing, the dance itself, is a tool that got us all together to show the world it’s not what really you think.

And we’re showing our mom, our dad, our grandparents that were racist or didn’t understand what we do—we’re changing that whole chain and breaking it into a whole new link of new people of all colors and all generations under peace, love, unity and having fun under the oneness of God no matter what god you pray to. And I think that’s what IBE is showing and all the other jams that know how to really unite people together. Word.

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That’s mostly because at an age where most teens battle acne, authority figures and self esteem issues, the kid is battling dudes like Toyz, Kareem and Free.

B-boy phenomenon or not, being 17 has its limitations. It means it hasn’t been that long since Thesis became old enough to legally drive, buy music with a “Parental Advisory” label or watch an R-rated movie alone.

It means he still can’t legally vote, gamble, own a credit card or go to a club—meaning, among other things, he’s effectively ruled out from going to most b-boy jam afterparties. And he still has a birthday to go before he can purchase worthwhile things like guns, porn, cigarettes, piercings or tattoos.

Even at IBE in the Netherlands, where b-boys and b-girls from all over come to gather around a cypher and under a massive cloud of weed smoke, the legal age to blaze up is 18.

So Thesis plays it cool. Dressed in all-dark colors with a fitted cap, jacket, tee, slim jeans and Pumas, he’d look like a poster child for streetwear if he weren’t blending into the night.

He’s deceptively calm.

Two mornings ago, while others tried to sleep on the bus from the airport, he was that kid excitedly standing in the aisle and chattering, acting, well, like a 17 year old. Earlier today, he and crewmate Dial Tone were sending the audience into a frenzy at the Circle Prinz IBE finals. Tomorrow, he’ll be wrecking shop at the IBE’s coveted All Battles All event.

But right now, the part-Mexican, part Native American teen seems content. He might even pass as a normal teenager relaxing in Heerlen, enjoying a cool night by the fountain while friends and acquaintances ravage a freshly acquired sack of weed.

Because even if there’s a lot Thesis can’t do at 17 (not legally, anyway), this Seattle battler has already gotten to do—and has had to do—a lot to get where he is now.

TRAVEL TO PLACES like Korea, Germany, France and Holland?

Check.

Get props from b-boy icons like Trac 2, Crazy Legs and Dyzee?

Check.

Gain an international following that leaves comments like, “Oh my god. He’s a fucking machine or? something man. Damn… “ and “woooooooouuu,? what the hell¿?¿¿??¿” and “GOT DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMN?”?

Definitely check.

The list goes on and on.

Before becoming a legal adult, Thesis has managed to accomplish most of the goals that a lot of b-boys would struggle to complete in their entire lifetimes.

A lot of people don’t know who I am, but a lot of people will criticize me on the Internet. And I read it and I’m like, wow, do you really think I’m that person? Do you really think I’m that b-boy who doesn’t give a fuck?

He lives the life of a professional b-boy by throwing jams, teaching classes, doing street shows for the city, battling and judging.

At first glance, it looks like the only concerns he has in life are long layovers at airports and unnamed Asian girls in his city who tend to be “buggin’ out sometimes.”

For most 17-year-old boys, this is the sort of stuff that inflates egos and heads to the point where their foam caps rip in half. But Thesis seems as surprised by his own success as his YouTube fans who argue about his “real” age.

“It’s crazy how I’m one of the pros,” he says. “It’s crazy because it inspires me to do that much more. It doesn’t build up my head. It’s kinda like it leaves more spaces. It opens it up more. It feels good, man. I guess if you’re really passionate about something, man, it always just kinda falls into place.”

The problem is that sometimes that falling into place can be a little painful.

Thesis is the kind of guy who is perpetually joking, even to the point where it’s hard to tell when he’s being serious.

Exactly zero of the videos he’s uploaded to YouTube himself feature any kind of b-boying. Exactly 100 percent of them are videos of him goofing around. Even with that laidback of an attitude, Thesis says his Internet fame can be—well, frustrating.

“I’m used to it, but I’m not used to it,” he says. “I feel uncomfortable when people are like talking about me like they know me. A lot of people don’t know who I am, but a lot of people will criticize me on the Internet. And I read it and I’m like, wow, do you really think I’m that person? Do you really think I’m that b-boy who doesn’t give a fuck? Yo, I’m beyond that. If you just get to know the real person—and this is any b-boy—if you get to know them, everyone has a fucking background. We’re not born as b-boys. I just feel sometimes disrespected.”

Respect usually isn’t at the top priority of any 17-year-old’s list, but Thesis seems to take it pretty seriously.

In fact, it seems to be the byproduct of his striking sense of responsibility. Most of the money he scores at competitions goes towards investing in his events and helping to support his stepfather, mother and cousin.

“I’m sticking to what’s important to me right now,” Thesis says. “You gotta give to get. It’s a fucking cycle.”

REWIND A FEW weeks. Thesis is waiting out a layover at Salt Lake City so he can make his way to an event to a border town near San Antonio. (There, he’ll win a bunch of money, which, as usual, he’ll give to his mother, but he doesn’t know this yet.) Thesis is about to rewind it some more, back to when he was still little Thesis, still just an idea of a b-boy.

Like so many other hip-hoppers, Thesis’s childhood kind of mirrored the childhood of hip-hop itself.

Growing up without a lot—in his case, in Seattle and Tucson—Thesis learned to do a lot with what he did have. What he had was an absent father and a working mother. He had friends and cousins and aunts and uncles. He had a limited patience for all things school-related, especially math.

And he had the sacred glowing treasure, the Holy Grail that would change the course of his life: a collection of footage of his uncles breaking and popping in the ‘80s.

At 6 years old, Thesis was hooked.

“I just blanked out everything and kinda got stuck,” he says. “Oh man, I was raised on it. I just fell in love with it.”

He describes memories of spending entire afternoons in Tucson, “just a desert town,” dancing, watching those videos and never giving a second’s attention to his homework.

Back at school, a friend might do some windmills in the gym. Thesis would respond with some footwork and a freeze. He’d go home and practice all night, invigorated by the exchange.

Fortunately, Thesis was one of the few lucky ones who didn’t have to cycle through a million lame b-boy names he chose for himself. Early on, his mom managed to sum up his destiny simply by flipping his real name, Thias.

“At the time, I didn’t know what it meant. When my mom explained it to me, I remembered every single word,” he says. “Thesis—if you look at the definition, it says it’s proving a point. And it’s pretty much what you did when you wrote a thesis in school—proving a point of what you did. I just thought, damn, yeah, if you think about it, a thesis is a perfect word because that’s what you do. You express yourself and prove the point of why you’re in there in the cypher and why you’re dancing.”

As Thesis grew older, those reasons for dancing changed and grew with him. Even when his attitude soured as he grew older, b-boying become important not just as an escape from boredom, but as an escape from struggle.

“Growing older, [my friends and I] were kinda on the angry side,” he explains. “We couldn’t really control our tempers—we’d get in fights in school. It wasn’t good. I guess maybe my dad’s situation—but dancing was my ventilation. Dancing, just stay quiet and keep moving. My own world.”

Thesis says he got “serious” with dancing around the ripe age of nine or 10, though it’s hard to imagine anyone that age being serious about anything other than flicking boogers.

By 11, he’d befriended an influence who’d help him polish his approach: Paranoid Android. The infamous so-called abstract-style b-boy would open Thesis’s eyes to different approaches to creativity, including his now-infamous threads. They’d rep together as members of Knuckleheads Cali, eventually making an infamous crew trailer that began with scenes of guys vomiting and doing nude powermoves.

“Those were the days,” Thesis waxes, sounding more like he’s 70 than 17.

“It’s good to start at a young age. But it doesn’t matter what age you start it,” he says. “I’ve seen people start at 25 and shit, and now they’re killing it at age 30. It just depends how you look at it. But yeah, I’m at a young age. Like El Nino and all these crazy cats. I’m just one of them, trying to do my thing too.”

If you have the form right and mess up and fall into something else, that’s a move. You just gotta add style to it.

CONSIDERING HOW MANY people use words like “machine” and “beast” to describe Thesis’s dancing, it’s a shame that both have already been claimed as b-boy names. Not that he needs them. He’s got plenty of notoriety with his own.

That’s because Thesis is the type of guy who makes everything look so effortless that onlookers begin to wonder why they even bothered started dancing in the first place. He’ll string together a bunch of powermoves—say, some airflares into handhops into swipes into babymills—then throw in some crazy abstract shit, a flip and an airchair on beat for good measure. No sweat.

For these reasons, watching others watch Thesis dance can be as entertaining as his dancing itself. Here at IBE, heads crane as soon as his named is uttered in a thick Dutch accent—“TEEEEE-SISSSSS!”

Eyes get really big, and though few ask it, everyone’s wondering it: how’d this kid get so good?

“[Videos of me] are online a lot, so I try to make something really new and noticeable at every event,” Thesis says. “It kinda just keeps me thinking outside the box. Originality—that’s the key.”

To keep his creativity peaked, Thesis keeps up with his house dancing and capoeira to set his styles apart. (“I just house, man! It’s what I do!” he yells.) He’s also dabbled in modern dance, rocking and hip-hop choreography for inspiration in movements and styles.

“Shit hella helps,” he says. “If you’re a b-boy, you have to learn other styles. If you look at Free, he’s doing hella shit. It’s just a style you get. It’s not what you do, it’s how you do it. If you look at it, b-boying is other styles combined to one thing—into your own style. You adapt from everything you’ve seen and learned, and that’s how you express yourself. If you learn other dances, you can incorporate them and express yourself even more—that much stronger.”

Three things about Thesis’s practice regiment, for those taking notes: first, he likes his practice sessions the way b-boys like their shoes—tight and exclusive.

“I’m not really the person that goes to practices with a lot of people,” he admits. “When I practice, I kinda stick with my group—my kinda people, Them Team in Seattle. I pretty much just practice on my friends’ carpet. I like to be in my own world in my own space.”

Second: Thesis doesn’t believe in mistakes, but he does pay attention to the details.

“If you have the form right and mess up and fall into something else, that’s a move. You just gotta add style to it,” he says. “When you wanna be a pro or become pro, you start to realize all the little details and moves you do. Every movement has a reason. Every movement has a world to it. There are different ways to battle, dance. A lot of people see a move and wanna learn it right away, but they forget about the details and form. If you do that and end up teaching later and don’t know the form, it’s gonna be hard for you to teach. You gotta keep tying that rope.”

It’s a theory that Thesis has proven through trial by fire, as is evident in his signature transitions.

His runs often feature series of moves that, while already impressive alone, become exponentially so when he strings them together. Sometimes, he seems to go through entire sets without his feet ever touching this ground. This could also potentially serve as a tip for keeping shoes clean.

Third, and last: when it comes to practicing, Thesis doesn’t do it all that much—not in the conventional sense, anyway. At 17, he’s taken a surprisingly zen approach to b-boying.

“I used to practice so much,” he admits. “Right now, I practice maybe once or twice a week and then battle on weekends. Every weekend, I battle. But right now, I’m working on a lot of battle strategies. I think you gotta keep going through that—just the person you are. I dunno how to explain that. Right now I’m kinda on the mental kind of thing.”

This means waking up every morning and immediately soaking in ‘80s and ‘90s b-boy footage like it’s orange juice. Thesis says he appreciates the era’s originality and style and uses it to brainstorm.

Though he depends on footage to get hyped (and largely to promote himself), Thesis is wary of becoming too reliant on Internet footage, especially that found on YouTube.

“I’m not gonna clown on anyone that watches online shit. I know I’m online. I do the battle, and the next day I’m already online,” he says. “I don’t really watch TV. When I’m online, I’m talking to people on Facebook and shit. But I stay away from YouTube. I feel like that is kinda killing the younger scene right now. That’s dope that they’re inspired, but I see too much biting nowadays. If you see someone wearing a foam cap a certain way, don’t do that. Just flip it.”

Instead of biting styles, he advises, get informed so that you can adapt to different movements. Instead of manufacturing a battle persona, use your personality and the specific emotions you are experiencing at that time. Instead of figuring out how others do moves, figure out your own personality and life.

“You can do the weirdest thing, but as long as you know what you’re doing, you’ll be perfectly fine,” he says. “Keep going with that. If each person cocks someone in the face at the end of every round, they’re not going to stand out. The way you’re gonna battle is you gotta just be yourself.

“If you don’t care what other people think or what other people do and just do you, that’s the real shit,” he says. “That’s where you find your roots and learn yourself and all that shit about life.”

HEARING A SEVENTEEN year old talk about the life and the future can feel like asking grandparents what they thought of a b-boy battle. The answer might be interesting, but it’s hard to tell how much to take at face value.

But for some reason, young and wide-eyed as he may be, when Thesis spouts his idealistic visions for b-boying and himself, it seems plausible. Maybe it’s because he’s such a good dancer. Or maybe it’s because he’s so earnest. Or maybe, as he puts it, it’s because he tries not to be a “dumbass.”

“I’m happy that I’m inspiring people,” he says. “I wanna show people to be humble and to inspire people. You can’t be cocky or bigheaded because it’ll just make you look like a dumbass and be played out in the future. You just have to be yourself for the people, no matter what your status or rank is.

“I don’t honestly believe in rank,” he continues. “I think each person is equal. If you’re a beginning b-boy and another has been doing it 10 years, you’re still the same person. You’re still dancers. More knowledge doesn’t mean you’re better than anyone else.”

Still though, the pursuit of knowledge seems worth the effort.

Though Thesis dropped out of high school, he got his GED after studying for two weeks. At the time of the interview, he’s just finished his first quarter at school and will be returning to study sociology and video production (“B-boying sometimes gets in the way and fucks my shit up,” he says.)

He wants to learn how to help people by adapting to them, the same way he battles people by adapting to their styles. He wants to make movies and documentaries about Rawbzilla and Free and Orb and underground b-boys and up-and-comers—“not some Step Up 3 shit, but some real shit,” as he puts it.

And hopefully, he says, if all goes according to plan, he can settle down by the time he’s 19.

Wait, what? That’s right. He’s still only 17.

“I’m not gonna lie—fucking 70 percent of my life, I never expected it to happen this way,” he says. “I would have never thought it, especially where I’m coming from. I’m just a kid. I’m just doing my thing. I chill out, and sometimes I go to malls and get girls’ numbers and party and shit and stupid shit. I’m just a regular fucking kid.”

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“I’m a big nerd,” the 21-year-old is saying. He’s talking about his hobbies outside of b-boying, like art shows and community service, among, uh, other stuff.

“I’m Asian, so you can probably already guess that I’m really into anime. I really like playing games. I used to paint little figurines,” he admits.

The Silver Spring, MD native doesn’t sound sheepish because, well, he isn’t. On the other hand, it’s one of the few stereotypes applicable to Chang that is actually accurate.

He’s standing with his hands in the pockets of his black jacket, with his backpack and threadbare, paint-splattered Nikes also in tow. The sun is ducking from the patio at the 40 Watt in Rotterdam. Street Science’s Generations Battle is about to begin.

Huddled hip-hoppers peek through the occasional weed smoke cloud wafting by as the interview continues. Chang—known to many as Toyz aRe Us, or simply Toyz (like Geoffrey the Giraffe? Get it?)—doesn’t seem to mind.

As famed hip-hop photographer Martha Cooper will later point out, Toyz tends to stand out from the crowd. She’ll be referring to the fact that his bright yellow shirt makes for better pictures than the drab colors worn by other b-boys. But her words ring true in other regards as well. C’mon, it’s Martha Cooper.

Besides, aside from his shirt, Toyz is as distinguishable for what he lacks as much as what he has.

In conversation, he displays little pretense—far from the usual gruff b-boy aloofness—as he excitedly greets friends by name. Absent are the standard foam cap and Pro-Keds. Likewise for the mean-mugging and constant cock-throwing. Any hopes of classifying him as a “style” or “power” b-boy get thrown out the window.

Instead, he speaks like the kind of intellectual-meets-smart-ass you might see in a Judd Apatow movie. During a battle, you might see him beam a widespread, cheesy smile at his opponents while they coldly stare back, emotionless.

Or Toyz may do a silly little marching dance in place. Then a dazzling display of interweaving footwork. Some crazy threading shit with his hands. ‘90s variations. A firmly clenched airchair as a closer.

But it’s not that Toyz doesn’t take himself or the culture seriously. Truth be told, he’s not even really that weird.

He’s just made a point to be comfortable with himself and with the dance. And being normal—being himself—makes him stand out in a sea of b-kids trying to become someone else.

Simple a concept as it is, he says it’s a large part of how he’s gotten invited to events like Monster Jam in Korea, IBE in the Netherlands, or Street Science, where he stands now.

“A lot of people don’t really understand the concept of having your own style – being individual,” Toyz says. “You might be able to come up with your own combo, but [many b-boys] all generally tend to move extremely similar to one another to when it comes down to the way they just carry themselves in a battle, like their character and attitude. They might have their own signature moves, but they all come in like this, and they’re all imitating particular styles they’ve seen before, or look up to, which is fine. But eventually, as you progress, you gotta realize that you just gotta be yourself.”

Toyz seems to have realized this for himself early on; he’s been making all his money through dancing since he first started b-boying at the age of 12.

You’re not gonna get big by posting a trailer of yourself after like two years of dancing or calling out judges just because you lost.

Introduced to the dance through his brother, Toyz found inspiration in all the move-makers of the ‘90s: Style Elements, Skill Methodz, Breaks Kru, HaviKoro, Footwork Fanatix, Force Force, and of course Lionz of Zion.

In fact, later on, he’d come to be associated with a long list of crews that’s difficult to say aloud quickly without spitting a little: All Ways Rockin’, Lionz of Zion, Beat Whakz and 4F (Flying Fists From the Floor).

But even with such strong (and numerous) b-boy ties, Toyz’s stories about his friends tend to sound like just that: stories about his friends. They’re normal people who like to have a good time, even if they go by names like Toyz and Napalm and Domkey.

It’s just that when he and his friends/crewmates have a good time, sometimes it can end up on YouTube. Then a bunch of people watch it, comment, and debate a lot about Toyz’s ethnicity (he’s Korean American).

But that’s not really the point.

“A lot of kids these days grew up thinking, ‘Oh, I’m in this big crew now,’ and they think they’re famous,” Toyz says. “But just because you’re in a big crew doesn’t mean people know who you are, you know?”

How, then, did he manage to get his name out? Toyz’s method was to do nothing special, kind of, which in turn ended up equating to everything.

“The best way to get yourself known, if you want to get your name out there, is to just do your own thing,” he says. “Get out to as many battles as you can. Win, roast people. You don’t even necessarily have to win battles. If you just stand out, people will notice you.

“You’re not gonna get big by posting a trailer of yourself after like two years of dancing or calling out judges just because you lost,” he continues. “Just do your thing. Just stay humble. Just enjoy yourself. That’s the most important part. Because while you’re enjoying yourself, other people will notice. And eventually, you know, fame and fortune will follow. But for those who purposely seek it, they tend to have a much harder time—they end up bothering others around them as opposed to getting their attention ripping the cypher or just repping [their] crew name.”

Photo by MurphYou get the feeling it’s not the first time he’s been asked that question. He does make a living answering questions.

While other 20-something-year-olds across the country are prolonging their educations in attempts to put off dealing with a dismal job market, Toyz teaches a class himself.

But there are a few items that might seem suspiciously absent from his lesson plans.

One is linked to the fact that Toyz actually looks like he’s having fun when he’s dancing.

“You see a lot of suburban cats that you know get into b-boying, and they kinda lose themselves in that character and try and act all hard and whatnot. They think they’re some tough little hoodlums,” he says. “But they’re not really that at all. In most of the cases, they probably have a really nice home, a really nice family. But then they get in the circle and try and talk all that trash and think they’re tough, but they’re not.

And the other thing? Toyz’s “nerd”-like tendencies and love for gadgets are no secret. But he’s quick to point out that a lot of this loss of originality and tendency to “front” can be attributed to technology.

“Nowadays, thanks to the internet, the moment they see one good b-boy, they all try to imitate them,” Toyz laments. “And they don’t have anyone to talk to. Or any peers to learn from. So they just sit home, watch videos, and they just bite everyone’s moves and style… They just stay trapped in a box. And they’re unable to think outside of it.”

So what, then, is it that ultimately inspires Toyz’s ability to think outside the box? Is it the anime? The girls? The chance to get flown out to countries where marijuana is legal?

“Well, I always tell other people this: I don’t wanna be the b-boy where people are like, ‘Oh, he moves just like this other guy,’” he says. “I wanna be the one where the kids go, ‘Oh, I wanna dance like him.’”

Toyz pauses briefly, perhaps realizing the irony of what he said.

Without missing a beat, he quickly adds, “Or, ‘Oh, I wanna have a crazy style that’s different from everyone else.’ That’s what motivates me in terms of my dancing.”

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Especially in an age of Internet fanboyism and YouTube addiction, there is an ever-growing disparity between the b-people you see online and the ones you meet in “real life.”

Even more unhealthy is the tendency for online “fans” to try and compare the two versions of a dancer.

That one guy with the super dynamic trailer? Could be bland in real life. Crew with decent sets online? Maybe they’re explosive in person. The one with the super clean runs on YouTube? Surprisingly sloppy in the cypher. The cat that looked huge on screen? Actually pretty short when you stand next to him.

It’s something that drives most better-known b-boys crazy. How, they often ask, can you expect to know somebody just from watching a few seconds of pixelated video of them dancing? It’s just not fair.

Focus of Flow-Mo Crew, on the other hand, doesn’t let it faze him. He’s, well, focus-ed on more important things.

“I am what you see when you see me dance. That’s me,” he explains, sitting in a parking lot in Rotterdam holding a plate of food.

The fresh-faced b-boy’s neatly cuffed jeans and unstained t-shirt don’t betray the fact that he’s just finished teaching an hour-long workshop. It’s a calm collectedness that sticks with him throughout the weekend, even as he competes in the Street Science Generations Battle and judges the World B-Boy Classic.

“I’m not one of those guys who dances in a different way than they are in real life,” he continues. “That’s me on the floor every time I dance, you know?”

It’s one of the most striking things about this b-boy from Helsinki, Finland. Judging from his aggressive battle style and short stature, aforementioned Internet-fanboys might expect this 26-year-old to be a brash hothead with a Napoleon complex.

Au contraire, mon frère. In the same way that his runs are swift and clean, everything about Focus – from his syntax to his clothes to his interactions – seems consistently calculated and deliberate.

His English is crisp. His words are pointed and well thought out. He even chews like he’s already planned the chicken’s route down his esophagus.

“I’m not one of those guys who dances in a different way than they are in real life. That’s me on the floor every time I dance, you know?”

It’s that same intentionality applied towards b-boying that’s gotten him noticed around the globe. If Focus’s dancing is a window into his character, meeting him in person or just peeking at his blog (which only hints at his vast knowledge of hip-hop history) serves as a step into that character – a character with a deliberate approach to noticing and appreciating the details.

“A lot of people these days are getting cocky. They don’t want to present themselves in the position of a student,” Focus says. “What makes Flow-Mo – what makes my crew – is we always learn from everybody else. Everywhere we go, we always learn. We flip everything and make it on the next level. That’s what defines Flow-Mo.”

It’s a habit that seems to have been ingrained in Focus ever since he first began dancing in 1995. For his first four years of dancing, his only resources were threefold: one b-boy from Finland’s ‘80s scene, Beat Street, and Wild Style. Focus and company pored over the tapes, trying to understand what was making the magic happen, literally studying each movement. As his dancing progressed, he began to make b-boy pilgrimages around the world, allowing his travels to become his teachers.

“I think after a rough start like this, with no Internet, no YouTube, or anything like this, it’s obvious nowadays. We appreciate the information that we had before a lot more,” he says.

It’s a sharp contrast from the fast food mentality of b-boys who want to get big quick and cash out.

For Focus and his crew, the nourishment that b-boying provides isn’t a quick sugary snack. It’s a well-balanced meal, with each bite carefully planned out and slowly savored. The flavor is there, but it’s meant to sustain and not just to entertain.

In tangible terms, this means Focus and his family keep their moves well-rounded. This is a man who is just as likely to throw airflares in a run as a set where he pretends one of his feet is stuck to the ground.

“The power is getting all the attention, but the real people with the real thirst for knowledge – they’re not getting the attention at all,” he laments. “The power is crazy. Some tricks are crazy. But the other aspects are not too strong, to be honest. I like to see all the aspects on the same level. When it comes to toprock, to footwork, everything, the character – everything should be on the same level.

“Everybody’s only focusing on getting ill power moves or ill tricks. And you even have whole events for this kind of style. But still I think all the other elements need to step their game up and get what they deserve.”

“There’s so much music, and it’s a limitless source for energy, for motivation, for inspiration, for creativity.”

But what exactly is it that the other elements – and the dancers themselves – are deserving of? Focus isn’t implying fame or victories. He waves off a question about what upcoming events or short-term goals he’s set his sights on. It seems that Focus’s scope works on a much larger scale.

“It’s not about one event or two competitions or a battle. It’s about finding yourself in a dance like this,” he says. “I wanna see my crew still active after 10 years. That’s the main goal for me: longevity. I know everybody’s gonna get injured and stuff like this. But I still wanna see them develop their style in a way that is good for their body as well. To still keep on going with the same passion and the same heart as before.”

But it’s still an uphill battle. Even though b-boying has equipped him to see the world, b-boys and b-girls still don’t get the recognition from the hip-hop community that is given to MC’s, DJ’s and aerosol artists. Even within the b-boy community, flash-in-the-pan stunts with good marketing still tend to grab the spotlight before committed contributors get the respect they deserve.

Focus has no qualms with admitting that he relies on a triad of inspirations – similar to his initial foray into b-boying – to motivate him to continue studying and dancing.

“Music, first of all,” he says. “There’s so much music, and it’s a limitless source for energy, for motivation, for inspiration, for creativity.”

“My crew. I see everybody developing all the time, and I don’t want to be left behind,” he says, laughing.

He can’t be blamed – Flow-Mo is becoming a household name among session spots worldwide, and like Focus, crewmates Hatsolo and Taya already have their own unofficial e-fan clubs.

It’s taking some getting used to.

“Sounds spooky,” Focus says, laughing between bites of food. “I get a lot of weird e-mails from different weird countries. And I don’t understand a word. But it’s still weird to see. I started breaking in small village of 8,000 people next to a small city – from this in the middle of a forest. From this circumstance, how can you get to having people knowing your name in Thailand or Korea or Japan? I don’t understand it.”

And his third source of motivation?

“Everybody I meet,” Focus says. “Every time I meet my friends, everybody gets better. So I need to practice to stay on the same level, you know?”

With all that training and study, it’s no surprise that there’s little time for anything else, especially when it comes to external factors like shit-talkers.

“There’s always people who talk shit,” Focus says. “Whatever field of life, if you get success, there’s going to be people talking shit about you. To me, that’s obvious. I don’t really pay attention to that.”

Of course not. He’s not called Focus for nothing.

But there’s no time to dwell on haters now, especially since the interview is wrapping up, and he’s returning his attention to his meal. After all, Focus seems determined to stay simultaneously hungry and nourished enough to make his meal at the b-boy table one that will last. And that’s something that should be obvious even to the laziest of YouTube viewers.

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The question is this: when you walk into class on the first day, who are you likely to find standing at the lectern ready to pontificate on hip-hop? Will it be Professor Cornbeil in his crooked bowtie who feels the need to start every other sentence by saying, “Well, as The Notorious B.I.G. once said…”? Will it be Dr. Stangledorf who wears a new pair of shelltoes with his suit and tells you while passing out the course syllabus that “it’s gonna be the bomb!”? Or will it be Professor Duperstank who, upon hearing you ask if she is going to cover breaking in class says, “Yes, we’ll take a 15-minute break halfway through each class.”

“Even though your professor might not be a hip-hop head, he or she can still teach you something you can apply to hip-hop to better overstand it.”

Chances are, the person you see at the front of your hip-hop studies class won’t be one of these caricatures, but it also won’t be the same person stepping to you on Saturday in the cipher. Most likely, it will be someone who has a deep knowledge of a topic that is closely related to hip-hop such as African American history, Black music, or African American literature. If you’re lucky, it might be Tricia Rose, whose Black Noise established hip-hop as a viable topic of academic study in 1994. Or it might be Joe Schloss, who just published Foundation: B-boys, B-girls, and Hip-Hop Culture in New York through the prestigious Oxford University Press. In a few cases, you might have a younger professor in his or her 30s or 40s who grew up participating in and creating hip-hop and could actually step to you in the cipher. Overall, if you’re a b-boy or b-girl and you take a course in hip-hop, you’ll probably have a different experience in it than your professor and many other people in the class.

So what should be the position you play in class if both your professor and classmates have very different experiences and ideas about what hip-hop is? Basically, you have three options, each with their own consequences:

Option 1: Serve them all! Class is your cipher and you chop more heads than Alien Ness at a park jam. You look for every chance to correct your professor and classmates and point them to your path of hip-hop truth. You quote Afrika Bambaataa at least once every class. You throw burns as the professor whenever he or she says the word “breakdance.” And you diss other students when they wear scuffed sneakers or brand clash. Class is a battle and you’re taking out the suckers.

A normal photo from a normal Hip-Hop 101 class.

While this may your first reaction, taking this approach has some negative consequences. Your disagreeable attitude will probably give the professor good reason to give you a C- in the class, and chopping heads on the daily will have the rest of the class wondering at the end of the semester, “Why are breakdancers are so angry all the time?”

Option 2: Keep to yourself. Despite all the misinformation in the class, you avoid the wackness completely and don’t say a word. You figure you’ll just come to class, assume your sitting b-boy stance at a desk, do all of your work well, turn it in on time, and keep your hip-hop to yourself. This way, by the end of the semester, you’ll have a decent grade and not have absorbed any of the wackness around you.

While this option may help out your GPA and keep you from making enemies, it certainly won’t help you to enjoy the class, let alone learn anything. In fact, you’ll probably hate the class by the end of the semester, and you’ll have done nothing to help educate those around you.

Option 3: Each One Teach One. Yes, one of the timeless hip-hop mantras (which comes from the African proverb “Each One Teach Three”) applies to your university hip-hop class too. Think back to when you first started breaking and were sock-rocking and doing L-kicks. Someone was kind and patient enough to not just diss you but to take you aside and show you how to lace up a pair of Pro-Keds and rock right. And this is what you should do in your class.

When the time is right early in the semester, let people in class know what hip-hop and breaking mean to you. Ask them honestly what hip-hop means to them in return. Take stupid questions seriously, as it gives you a chance to educate them and better express yourself. Give them a flyer for a jam so they can come and see for themselves. Give them a CD of music you dance to in practice. Explain terminology such as “breaks,” “foundation,” “character,” and “style” as you understand them. Make it clear that there are different opinions, even within breaking and hip-hop communities. Realize that your perspective is limited and point them to better sources (such as interviews with older heads) than yourself.

As you educate those in the class, you should also be humble enough to learn something from the professor and his or her formal academic training. No, they might not have over 500 posts on Bboyworld, but they have knowledge that can enhance your dance. For example, seeing parallels between the African American literary practice of signifyin’ will help you understand why b-boys appropriate and mime moves from other dances (peep Henry Louis Gates, Jr.). Understanding the African Diaspora/Black Atlantic as a symbol for cultural hybridity will help you understand how hip-hop is composed of numerous fractured cultural traditions (check Paul Gilroy). In essence, even though your professor might not be a hip-hop head, he or she can still teach you something you can apply to hip-hop to better overstand it.

Overall, if you take this final option, not only will you enjoy the class, make a decent grade, and help your peers to respect breaking, but you’ll get your money’s worth and become a better b-boy or b-girl in the process.

Bustopher Jonez is the pen name for DJ Ill-Literate who, when not posing as a college professor, can be found at your local record store buying all the records you slept on.

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The year was 2007. The audience at the World UK B-Boy Championships was getting geared up for favorites like Lilou of Pockemon and Lil Bob of Killafornia. Crazy Legs was yelling, “Falling is not an option!”

Then, out of the woodwork came Menno, a young, Abercrombie & Fitch-model-looking b-boy from Holland.

Using his sprawling blonde hair to mop up the floor–and the competition–Menno dominated the one-on-one battles, beating out fan favorites to win the title and worldwide b-boy stardom.

Two years and countless video clips, message board bulletins, battles and titles later, Menno’s still not used to the being a b-boy celebrity.

“It’s funny when you go to Japan or any far country and people wanna have a picture with you or wanna have an autograph on their cap,” the 20-year-old says via e-mail.

But you can’t blame him for being unaccustomed to the idea of being a b-boy celebrity.

After all, Menno–whose parents named him Menno Van Gorp–was born, raised, and continues to live in Tilburg, a small town that’s historically considered to be a wool capital of the Netherlands.

Rather than weaving wool, however, Menno’s claim to fame was his ability to weave together his explosive moves.

Using an arsenal of signature slides, spins, and freeze transitions, Menno pulls and harnesses momentum from the most unlikely positions. His runs tell seamless stories with a flow that at once seems haphazard and carefully planned.

“I try to do everything and mix it in a original way,” Menno says. “I don’t have a typical style. I have my own style: punchlines.”

It’s an approach that that Menno seems to have mastered since he first saw b-boying in the video for Run-DMC’s “It’s Like That.” With the guidance of two older cousins and the full support of his parents, Menno began to carve out his own unique flavor.

“Once I tried it, I never stopped,” he says. “After my first battle, I knew I wanted to make it my own and become a real b-boy.”

Influenced by b-boys like Storm, Remind, Lil John, Maurizio, Rabbani and others from Aktuel Force and Skill Methodz, Menno’s skill helped him to get put down with Def Dogz when he visited Paris with Xisco in late 2005. Only two years later, Alien Ness put him down with the Mighty Zulu Kings.

But Menno seems to draw the most inspiration from his Tilburg-based crew Hustle Kidz, which now includes members from all around Holland after its inception in 2006.

“The scene in my city is all fam, you know–everybody knows each other and there’s no beefs or whatever,” Menno says. “There are like 15 to 20 b-boys in my city–not much, but enough. Holland-wise, it’s getting better as well, with many up-and-coming b-boys.”

The growing community has fostered a greater frequency of events as well.

“Almost every weekend, there’s a jam somewhere; a few years ago there were only like six jams in a year,” Menno says. “We did our own event, Autumn Madness. We will be back with that event at the end of the year or spring of 2010–we’re gonna do something dope. You’re definitely gonna hear more about Holland.”

And while Holland’s scene cuts it teeth with its next generation of b-boys and b-girls, Menno is busy seeing the world as he travels the battle circuit.

“If you think too much about being original, you’re gonna be stuck some day. The most stupid or easy movements can be dope; don’t dig too deep!”

A fulltime b-boy, he pays the bills by teaching workshops, performing at shows, battling and judging events. His free time is spent with his crew as well, which he calls a “real family.”

So far, his adventures have taken him across “beautiful” countries like Japan, Korea, Russia and the U.S.

Such experiences seem to have given Menno a unique outlook when it comes to creating and training.

For example, he doesn’t train specially for battles anymore.

“I used to for days, but I know myself as a b-boy now–I know what I can do and my moves and transitions,” he says.

He also advises new b-boys and b-girls not to over-think the dance.

“Just be yourself. Don’t try to be another guy who you look up to,” he says. “You can have your inspirations, but keep it yours and don’t believe the hype! Just do what you feel and what you like. Sometimes you don’t have to think; you have to do it and follow your body. If you think too much about being original, you’re gonna be stuck some day. The most stupid or easy movements can be dope; don’t dig too deep!

“Get your basics first–that’s so important,” he continues. “I think the big ‘foundation’ hype was good after all. I don’t like to see everyone in the same outfits and the same tops and basic moves, but now it’s getting better because people are starting to find their own way in that.”

Menno says he finds his own inspiration to keep up with the best from good music, including soul, funk and hip-hop, and the b-boys with whom he trains.

It seems he’ll need all the inspiration he can get, as he hopes to continue travelling and “drop bombs” at Freestyle Session in the near future–and be remembered as a b-boy legend in the more distant future.

“I hope that b-boys still watch my clips like I watch clips now from Maurizio, Gabin, Karim, Barouche and Storm and have someone be like, ‘Daaaamn, he would still smoke a lot of b-boys right now.’ That’s the ultimate goal for me,” he says.

Menno admits that he’s also tossed around the idea of going to college later on to learn photography as a backup. But for now, it seems, his b-boy life is already picture-perfect.

“I want to see more of the world, and that’s possible with my dance,” he says. “On weekends being invited somewhere around the world-I love this life. Everything’s going well with breaking now, and I don’t wanna waste that. I wanna enjoy that as long as possible.”

*Alternate titles for this feature included “93 Tilburg Infinity” and “Holla Holland.”

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Fortunately, Omar O. Delgado Macias of Richmond, California, was able to rise to the challenge.

Simply put, Delgado – better known as RoxRite – rocks right, the way one should b-boy. It shows in his collection of 61 tournament victories around the world, including 21 one-on-one tournament victories.

When he dances, each of his movements seems deliberate and precise. His flow somehow manages to be very light and buoyant but also solid and aggressive.

And the 26-year-old doesn’t just rock one “style” either. From his smooth footwork to his powermoves to his signature freeze combinations, everything RoxRite does seems suspended in time and space. And because he seems to be able to break the law of gravity, he’s able to follow the law of never, ever crashing.

And that’s why the name fits him so well. Like his dancing flavor, it’s pretty straightforward yet also mind-blowingly profound.

Of course, a dope name doesn’t always make a dope b-boy. In fact, for RoxRite, the name only seems to confirm what’s been a part of him ever since he was born.

Sure, it takes a lot of dedication and training to get on RoxRite’s level. But in the same way that he makes b-boying seem effortless, he makes living the life of a struggling “freelance b-boy” look so natural that it almost seems like it was a matter of fate.

Even before he could remember it, his parents would take him to parks in Mexico to watch the local b-boys when he was “real little.”

The small child would sit and watch for hours, mesmerized by their movements.

Perhaps it was a matter of destiny, then, that when he saw some kids dancing at his junior high school in California, something inside him clicked.

“It kinda reminded me of me. I saw that it was something I could relate to,” RoxRite says, speaking quietly. “I could relate to the people that did it. It had something that was me. It was challenging, and the mentality was coming from a certain background – hip-hop. You can relate to it more because it comes from like a struggle background.”

It was 1995, and the deal was sealed. He was going to be a b-boy.

Fourteen years later, RoxRite still isn’t used to being a b-boy celebrity with worldwide b-boy fame.

For instance, there was the girl on MySpace who was flaunting the title of being “RoxRite’s wifey.”

Except there was one problem: RoxRite had no idea who she was. So he deleted her.

RoxRite’s nervous laugh gives away his confusion regarding the uncomfortable, albeit humorous, situation.

“You have people constantly asking questions on a personal level,” he says. “It’s not like musicians where you have somebody representing them or running their MySpace or Facebook. You’re dealing with a person, and you respond yourself. Everything you say, they take, so you try and give the best advice you have.”

People get star struck in person, too.

There are those who comment that he looks taller in videos. And then there are those who express their surprise that he has more moves in real life than he does in his videos.

And though he’s never tried to recruit fans or win over followers, RoxRite seems to deal it with the same humble patience and logic that he applies to the rest of his life. It’s all part of being a good b-boy, and he was born loving b-boying, so he does his best.

“I’m glad people can look up to me,” RoxRite says. “I’ll try and help you even if I only have a short amount of time. But it’s still just kinda mind-blowing – it’s all new to me. It’s like, damn, I wonder how other people deal with this.”

A lot of b-boys and b-girls dream of being “famous” – of being featured on music videos and movies, gaining fame not just in the b-boy community but in the mainstream media as well.

RoxRite, however, intentionally avoids that path. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a performer, he insists; it’s just not for him. He’s just innately more comfortable with pure, unadulterated b-boying.

Sure, he’s done his share of shows, and he did have a stint dancing for the Golden State Warriors. In fact, he seems to have a pretty good understanding of what it takes to be the sort of b-boy it takes to survive in the show business.

“You’re going to wanna perform for people, so they’ll hire you based on that,” he explains. “Your career is in movies, so what I recommend is that you learn acting. You’ll wanna do eye-catching shit – flips, headspins. And you can learn more dances.”

But his real passion isn’t as much about entertaining and hyping up crowds as much as it is about battling and teaching others about the culture.

“I like to perform, but only if it’s in a certain way I can relate to,” RoxRite says. “I don’t like to audition for performances or anything like that. It’s like, that energy where an entertainer yells, ‘Clap your hands! Clap your hands!’ isn’t my personality.”

In fact, there was a long period of time where RoxRite didn’t even feel like he had the credibility to be a teacher.

“Now I’m at a place where I don’t consider myself a master teacher, but I have good things to pass down,” he says.

In a typical RoxRite workshop, he might answer some questions about history, cover some steps and drills, go over some tactics for “coming up with new stuff from old stuff,” and show how to build improve on strength, flow, and overall cleanliness (in terms of the moves, not one’s hygiene).

And he may talk a bit about battling – one of the few topics that causes a break in RoxRite’s usually calm, quiet voice, revealing the natural passion and aggression he has bubbling inside.

“A lot of it is mental – you have to not fear your opponent,” RoxRite begins. “That’s the number one thing, first off. Don’t underestimate anybody, but don’t fear anybody.

“Let’s say there’s an airbaby trick you’ve got,” he continues, outlining an example of a battle strategy he uses. “Say you wanna set them up for this. You throw a complex round with technical things, then go into a quick airbaby. The guy says, ‘I got something for that.’ Then he throws something with an airbaby. Then you respond with your killer. Set them up for defeat. That’s very old school. It comes from ‘90s power.

“There’s many more ways of how to attack,” RoxRite concludes. “You always want to be confident, but not too cocky. You gotta believe in yourself, or then people watching or judging aren’t gonna believe in you in the battle. Carry that with you.”

Of course, what constitutes a “battle” has changed a lot, even in the time that RoxRite has been dancing.

Though he primarily makes a living by competing in organized battles, RoxRite says nothing can compare with circle battles when it comes to squashing beef, testing yourself, and learning how to battle in the first place.

“In long round battles, you see who’s really holding it down,” he says. “In short-round battles anybody can lose – you might be doing warm-up shit or your heaviest shit. A real, real battle is in circles for me, honestly. You go and push yourself to the limit. You have circle battles nowadays where they wanna battle three or four rounds. That’s not a really real battle in my eyes.

“Before I competed, I battled at schools, at dances – everywhere I went, I battled,” RoxRite continues. “You go until you quit or you’re obviously dominating that battle. Circle battles are more important if you’re learning how to battle. You have to get a feeling for that. You really have to learn how to go at it – not just talking shit, but really exchanging moves. When you really test yourself, you learn what you need to do better. That’s how you progress. Then, in a competition, you feel more comfortable, and it’s easier to jump out in a tournament, since four rounds ain’t shit if you’ve battled 20, 25 rounds.”

And the Internet has changed the idea of paying dues as well.

For newer generations, the most visible form of exposure has come through Internet footage. For some new b-boys and b-girls, the tried and true method of paying your dues in real-life scenarios has been replaced by flaunting a résumé of video clips.

It doesn’t feel right to RoxRite.

“Before, you had to grind it out to get that rep. People still need to go by that, “RoxRite says. “For people that don’t have access to hip-hop that we have, where b-boying is not as big yet and it’s very secluded, then it’s understandable. But people who are trailer-this or trailer-that – that’s for a movie. If you’re coming out with a DVD, then it’s a trailer. If not, then it’s a clip. Go battle people. Go build your rep. Go let people know what you’re capable of doing. Seems like people are too caught up – they just wanna be so big so fast. Give it time.”

RoxRite pauses. Ever the strategic battler, he considers his own words.

“And just so people know, I didn’t put all those videos of me out there. I’ve only put up a Break Disciples one and maybe one more and that’s it,” he says. “I also hear people say that I don’t hit up circles. Well, that’s just what they think. Just because I don’t hit the same circle you was in doesn’t mean I didn’t.”

Natural defensiveness aside, one of the most striking things about RoxRite is how unusually humble he is.

More and more nowadays, it seems like the line between b-boy battle braggadocio and real-life drama is getting blurred. RoxRite, on the other hand, actually seems content. Maybe it’s just his personality or just how he handles all things b-boying internally; he’s obviously still hungry, but he speaks with a overall tone of ease that most other b-boys seem to lack.

For example, even though winning or losing a battle can mean having money for rent or not, he makes a point never to harass judges, even when they may have made poor decisions.

“They saw it a certain way that moment,” RoxRite explains. “I’m not gonna change the outcome by asking them. It’s good to learn history and foundation – that’s good. But I’m not gonna change my way of dance because I lost and you tell me I should do it a certain way. When I lose, it’s just whatever. You win some, you lose some.”

And RoxRite doesn’t seem hung up on the fact that he hasn’t struck riches, either. He’s surprisingly open and unashamed about his humble financial situation.

It hasn’t been that long since he was able to leave behind the food industry. One can only imagine how many pizza customers opened the door impatiently, completely oblivious to the fact that their pizza delivery guy was one of the most respected b-boys in the world.

In early 2007, he was working three jobs to support himself after half a year of not working because of an injury.

Sure, it would be nice if b-boys could rake in cash. But RoxRite seems to have come to terms with the fact that non-entertainer b-boys usually don’t make a ton of money – like it was a condition he knew about and signed up for from the beginning.

Most people are never forced sit down and choose between making tons of money or being a b-boy. But one gets the feeling that RoxRite already chose long ago, and his commitment to b-boying was unshakeable. It makes sense; he just really, really loves being a b-boy.

And for that reason, it seems difficult for him to think of anything he doesn’t like about the state of b-boying – he’d rather talk about why he loves it.

“It’s everywhere. That, in itself, is beautiful,” RoxRite says. “In almost every country, somebody is there that breaks or tries to break. When I was young and first started, I never would have imagined that there were b-boys everywhere, and they’re all positive. Hip-hop and b-boying are positive movements.

“It’s weird – it’s like a code we live by. It’s hard to explain. Makes me feel like, damn, that’s crazy. That’s beautiful and dope. To inspire somebody from South Africa be like, ‘Oh! RoxRite!’ – it’s dope. And everybody keeps it positive. As far as b-boys, they all wanna learn, dance, and keep dance alive.”

He seems especially grateful that for the past few months, he’s been able to rely completely on dancing to pay the bills for the first time in his life.

It’s what he calls being a “freelance b-boy,” meaning he takes on different b-boys jobs without a steady pay. Up to four times a month, he’ll take jobs judging in Florida or Chicago, or maybe going to battle in Portugal or France.

“For now, I just continue to pursue my passion,” he explains. “I do have a girlfriend that I live with. We support each other, which is a really good thing to have. With b-boying, I am able to support myself financially, but at times, it gets a little tight.”

Though being a “freelance b-boy” may not be the most lucrative profession, it’s not without its perks – like, say, traveling around the world for free.

RoxRite fondly reminisces about trips to Brazil, South Africa, and Australia as well as jams like the UK B-Boy Championships in 2005 or Pro-Am in 1999 that inspired him so much.

“Those moments were important,” he says. “That was like, ‘Whoa, damn. This is something I really like.’ I felt like I could live doing this.”

And this past December, he was even able to travel to lead a workshop in the Middle East.

“In Kuwait, b-boying is illegal,” RoxRite says. “Even clubbing is illegal. To see them and to see kids get down – it was inspiring because they have the heart to do what they like to do.”

Of course, there are travel stories galore, like the one about how RoxRite managed to win a jam in Japan in 2006, even with an almost-broken arm.

After hearing a ripping side from the muscle above the back of his elbow, he decided to battle alongside Lego anyway.

“It started to swell up into a ball,” RoxRite says. “It was fucking hard. I did that battle doing stuff on my left hand. I didn’t tell people like, ‘Oh, I’m hurt.’ What the fuck am I gonna do? It was really painful. It turned black and purple, and the swelling went down to my wrist. I was just a guy playing his role – you do what you can. People talk, and they don’t know. They’re gonna say what they’re gonna say – I’m not gonna go out there and be like ‘Yeah, I was hurt!’”

With his arm still badly injured, RoxRite competed against Juice Boogie the next week at the UK B-Boy Championships, and he was still injured when he won third place at the Red Bull BC One Sao Paulo.

That fierce commitment to the game seems to go hand in hand with RoxRite’s love for experiencing different cultures.

“That’s dope when you can tell the difference between b-boys because each area has its own flavor,” he notes as he reminisces about his travels. “It’s learning about the roots of where you’re coming from. Learn the history of your area. Learn about the people who were there before.”

Even having traveled so much, RoxRite says he still hopes to visit Russia, Greece, and the Caribbean some day, and he dreams of the day when he will be able to claim 100 wins.

And considering that he trains enough to be a serious competitor even when he’s seriously injured, his goals don’t seem too far-fetched.

Even when you’re being flown out to b-boy events four times a month, it leaves a lot of downtime between gigs.

For RoxRite, a lot of that time goes into training and developing new combos and moves.

As mentioned earlier, RoxRite has an unmistakably clean and fluid flow, and he attributes much of that flavor to his disciplined approach to training.

“I never intentionally try to be like this way or look a certain way,” he says. “I guess what it comes from is the mentality of always knowing when I dance, I do stuff that I can do. Say I’m in a battle – I’m not gonna try moves I haven’t got down. If I feel moves, I’ll do that move at that moment.”

Of course, there are inevitably haters who are quick to criticize RoxRite’s success and style. Some accuse him of being too basic, while others claim that RoxRite uses sets.

RoxRite addresses these accusations by attributing them to a lack of understanding and by welcoming any challengers to battle him.

“Just because my freestyle doesn’t look like I’m about to fall or I’m catching myself doesn’t mean it’s not freestyling,” he says. “I have moves, not sets – what I do is just try to combine my moves in different ways. When I get down, I think of at least four or five moves. Then what I do is freestyle in and out of those moves. Sometimes, shit’s flowing more, so I can add more. Sometimes it’s not, so I cut it short.”

It’s all part of RoxRite’s strategy of training by falling in and out of his moves in different ways.

“Certain little steps will trigger certain movements,” he says. “When I practice, I try many different little things. I try to practice all these other moves I haven’t done in while and kinda just do them from different angles. Like, a CC to ninja freeze to continuous windmill to backspin – you try stuff differently.”

And with the name RoxRite, it’s no surprise that music is an essential part of getting his creative juices flowing when he trains.

“That’s what’s gonna make me come up with new stuff,” he says. “If you get a good break or a good beat, you get a certain energy, and you wanna release that energy. Freezes to me are like releasing a certain energy. That’s me releasing energy that beat gives me, to come up with certain things. A good beat, a rare break, a dope song that I’ve never really breaked to before will give me a new feeling, a new movement.”

But RoxRite’s practice music diet isn’t just limited to traditional breaks, either.

“Some hip-hop shit with MCing is more mellow. Like, Nas helps because it gets you zoned out,” he says. “You listen more to the flow and get in the flow and mentality. You hit the floor and flow around with freezes and sets. That’s what helps me – it zones me out to where I can concentrate more.”

Sometimes, keeping your concentration as a b-boy means you have to take a break from breaking.

“At times, I take breaks, weeks at a time, to feel renewed and refresh my mind,” RoxRite admits. “You can’t be on overdrive all the time – eventually, you’ll break down. So doing that helps me a lot.”

He also spends his free time as a self-taught video editor. After studying books and fooling with different software, RoxRite was able to edit and produce his own solo DVD with help from Kid David in 2006.

It was only a matter of time before bootleggers had ripped the “Straight Up B-Boy” and made it available for download online.

“As long as you’re selling your DVDs in your possession, and it’s not affecting you, that’s straight. It’s gonna happen anyway,” RoxRite admits. “In a way, it’s good for us, but some of us are trying to survive from it. Support your community – those in the community are gonna wanna give back, and you’ll want people to support you too. For us to grow, we need to support.”

He’s even considered going back to school to learn film in the future, especially since he believes that b-boying deserves quality documentation.

Again, RoxRite’s uncanny calm ability to handle b-boy business shines through. People are downloading his hard-earned work without supporting the culture. He really hasn’t thought much about the future other than that he might be able to fall back on film one day.

But at the end of the day, it always comes back to the dance: RoxRite is a b-boy. He loves b-boying.

RoxRite says he’s never thought about quitting the dance, even if he has to work different jobs or quit traveling as much in the future. After all, b-boying is not just his profession, but how he’s chosen to live his life.

For all practical purposes, it seems like the perfect extension of his personality and his abilities – almost as if he was chosen by b-boying, rather than him choosing to b-boy.

And with a strong support network from associated crews including Renegades, Footwork Fanatics, and Break Disciples (which he started along with Kid David in 2006), it doesn’t seem as if RoxRite will stop rocking right anytime soon.

Even as this feature was in the works, RoxRite was preparing for a trip to Portugal and planning on a future move to San Diego.

“That feeling you get when you’re dancing all day and it’s like, ‘Damn, I gotta do this again tomorrow’ – that inspires me to compete and battle and to travel,” RoxRite says. “Before, I wanted to come up and break and do this and that. Where I’m at now, I dance for the love of it. I wanna carry on this tradition – to be able to be one b-boy that can carry on this artform.”

He pauses.

“This is what I learned, and in a way, this is all I have.”

Related posts:

1. RoxRite: The Difference between Stacks and Freeze Frames
2. DJ Franco De Leon – Hot Butter Breaks
3. Deck Brothers – Breaks Of Fury

But seriously, do you really think that those so-called “real b-boys” aren’t sitting on their couches right now, searching through the 14 billion YouTube clips (I made that number up), trying to entertain themselves? And what better way to do that than to watch the most viewed category of YouTube clips in the world: b-boying (also made that up).

We know you’ve all watched the big videos of this year, but do you really need to watch Casper vs. Menno again? So instead of reposting all the videos you’ve already seen, we’ve tried to come up with a list of 10 videos that you may have missed in 2008. We hope you enjoy them.

10. Japan (Shie Chan & Narumi) vs. Spain B-Girl Battle BOTY 2007

Dopeness all around! All four b-girls bring their own unique flavor and energy to the battle, and all four are at the top of their games.

9. Bgirl Jess / B-Unit Ibérica 2008

The flawless set that B-Girl Jess throws down is good enough, but what the cameraman says afterwards is what really makes this clip stand out.

8. Battle Driven (Drew/L10) vs. Squishy Docious(Green/Saewl)

Some battles are just fun to watch, regardless of how good the b-boying is. Luckily, the b-boying isn’t really in question in this battle, and even if they aren’t repping the “I’ll eat your baby’s fingers” b-boy battle mentality, their attitudes are one of the main reasons this clip is so good.

7. San Francisco Dance Event – 2v2s

With a ton of great b-boys going really hard, this clip gives you lots of different styles. Some b-boys you’ll recognize and others you won’t, but by the end of the eight minutes, you’ll have seen about two dozen b-boys putting themselves out there.

6. KNUCKLESHEADZ CALI VS FOOTZBEUL A L AMAZING DAY BY YOUVAL

These two crews are both killing it, and in each round the battle just escalates to another level. Lots of originality in this one.

5. Judges showcase master of art

Born and Red, my new fantasy b-parents. You may have seen them hit their moves better in other clips, but hearing the crowd and seeing them vibe off of the energy around them is pretty great.

4. Energetik vs Smurf

Energetik and Smurf both rep super hard here, but Smurf’s crazy energy makes him stand out (I know, I’m using “energy” in every description, oh well). I’m pretty sure Smurf can fly.

3. Hip Hop 360 2008, Cypher #3

Some videos don’t need big-name b-boys or b-girls. The energy and atmosphere of this video are what caught our attention, not to mention top-notch sound and production value.

2. Boogie Brats vs Killafornia

Smurf and Energetik are on opposite sides of the floor again, but this time Smurf is joined by Casper and Energetik is joined by Lil Roc. Suffice it to say they’re all on point.

1. YNOT at Rock Steady Crew 30th Anniversary!!

DAAAAMMMNNNNN

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On the dance floor, he’s an iconic villain – the kind that makes you want to cover the eyes of any children who might be watching.

He dances with unmistakably sharp movements, swooping and skipping as he jabs and stabs at his opponents. Between unrelenting burns and cock-serves, he executes endless variations of spins and airchairs. He even has a trademark airchair where he jams his fist and forearm through the fly of his pants to – yep, you guessed it – cock his opponents.

He even looks the part. His long trademark dreads rip through the air like a flail daring anyone to interrupt their path. His face seems to be stuck in a perpetual b-boy smirk, with his eyebrow cocked and his lips pursed as if to say, “You’re kidding me, right? I am going to eat your family.”

And then there’s the matter of names – one of the most vital elements of first impressions. While some might associate the name “Bebe” with a woman’s clothing line, there’s no denying the controversy of a crew called “Ground Zero” or the sheer aggressiveness of naming a jam “Who Can Roast the Most?”

On the other hand, he’s one of the nicest guys you’ll ever talk to, period.

Bebe’s a longtime supporter and contributor to the b-boy community worldwide as a competitor, judge, and event organizer/promoter/and, uh, throw-er. He encourages unity within the b-boy community and is known for what he refers to as his “hippy tendencies,” including his longtime vegetarianism, his experience as a yoga instructor, and his “different” spiritual beliefs. He’s also easy to approach, quick to give thanks, and solidly grounded in his roots.

These seemingly opposing sides of Bebe – scowling angry guy vs. smiling peace-loving guy – might seem a little strange or confusing at first.

But as we found out, finding a balance – both literally and figuratively – is nothing new for him.

Born Alejandro Fernandez in 1981, Bebe (who is half-Puerto Rican and half-Cuban, for those of you who care to know) was a 12-year-old weathering the Miami heat when he first saw b-boying at a skating rink right down the street from his home.

The Hot Wheels Skating Center was a hotbed for b-boys who would congregate in the middle of the rink on the wood floor. (Years later, Bebe would rent out the venue for Who Can Roast the Most? 5, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.)

“I was mesmerized by the intricacies of footwork that drew me primarily to the dance,” Bebe says. “I can’t put into words how special and what a catalyst that place was. I’ll pretty much just sum it up with this: any influential b-boy who came out of Miami spawned from that floor.”

When Bebe was in the eighth grade, he and his family (including younger brothers Zoob and Boo Rok) relocated to Puerto Rico. The fact that there wasn’t a lot to do ended up working in their favor; while others spent their free time playing ball, Bebe and his brothers danced.

As they gained experience and technique, the puzzle pieces of the crew that would grow out of their brotherhood began to fall into place.

Bebe found his b-boy name in the form of a suggestion from his younger brother Zoob. “Bebe” was a testament to the common nickname for Puerto Rican kids as well as Bebe’s own tendency to be the little fiery kid in the baggy clothes.

Their crew name, Ground Zero Crew, also reflected their hunger to battle, though it then was hardly as ominous as it is in the current post-9/11 landscape.

“I like what the word means,” Bebe says. “Square one, from the beginning. The place of impact at which some disaster has happened and scorched the landscape. I think that really fits our battle style and philosophy and what we attempt to accomplish.”

And what, you might ask, is Ground Zero Crew trying to accomplish?

“We came out at a time when people weren’t battling like they were really battling,” Bebe explains.

“They were shaking hands and smiling and giving each other ice cream cones. As far as just fundamental intensity – I’m not even talking about moves – at end of the day, you should be able to beat people on presence, aggression, aura, intimidation, strategy, confidence, uniqueness, used as weapons – without moves. I just wanted to be a bad-ass battler.”

For Bebe and his crewmates, this meant not only dancing aggressively but also being outspoken in what they perceived to be biting.

“We strongly advocated originality. We eliminated and pointed out people using other’s original moves in a way that was mean and aggressive. People were biting a lot,” Bebe says.

“If it’s already been done before, get off of it. It’ll get you more interested in what hasn’t been done before. Your philosophy and perspective and practice will change too. If you want to join the ranks of the people who changed the game, change yourself and the people around you as well.”

And therein lies the rub. As much as Bebe and his crewmates may stand out for being harsh critics of biting and won’t hesitate to tell anyone so, on the positive tip, they are also proponents of creativity and originality.

“Nothing – and I repeat, nothing – should change the way you naturally respond to music,” Bebe says. “Of course, there’s learning your foundation. But by the same token, do not limit yourself to the rigidity of foundation that doesn’t allow you to experience your own stuff as well. You can’t just go in and think its 1974 again.

“Some people say, ‘Not everybody can be creative.’ If you’re a musician, that’s just like saying you can’t create an original song,” Bebe continues. “If you’re not bringing anything back into the artform, then how are you practicing the artform? If you want to be creative, we all are unique beings and have a unique story to tell from different walks of life. Breathe inside yourself and find a place inside with your creativity at one with the creator of creation, then you’ll have no problem creating things.”

Of course, it can seem like a dying message nowadays with the Internet’s impact on the culture.

With unlimited access to hours of other b-boys’ and b-girls’ moves, potential biters don’t even have to shell out money for a VHS like they did only a few years ago.

Furthermore, inexperienced dancers who might have been too scared to talk shit in person or who would have been quickly silenced at jams now have an outlet to run their mouths.

“[You have to] acknowledge that the message boards can be an area for all these people’s undeserved voices,” Bebe says. “Lots of toys are going online to bite and download moves. This is part of a plague of irreparable homogony. It’s reached almost an unreversible point.”

He pauses.

“I’m not angry,” he continues. “I’m not young and full of, whatever. You know what, let them do what they’re gonna do. They’re gonna quit in two years. If they don’t realize what they’re doing is wack, whatever.”

It’s a surprising surrender that almost seems uncharacteristic of Bebe. But perhaps it’s a reflection of his attitude towards b-boying as a whole: showing all-out aggression to his individual opponents, but never hesitating to contribute to the entirety of the culture.

Plus, there’s always the option of handling beef the “old-fashioned” way – round for round in a battle.

It’s how Bebe silenced one particular West Coast b-boy who talked shit online but could only hang his head and apologize after a battle in person. And it’s how Bebe says he settled his now-legendary feud with the French b-boy Benji.

“Me and Benji was like the greatest showdown of the new millennium,” he says.

The story goes that in 1999 Bebe and the rest of Ground Zero were at the Rock Steady Anniversary in New York when b-boy Flubber of France approached them and told them how he appreciated their styles as well as the styles of the Lionz of Zion.

He also introduced them to a “quiet French little small guy” named Ben, with whom Boo Rok and Zoom sessioned. Bebe says at the time, Ben was clearly influenced by a West Coast style, especially dancers like Poe1 and Vietnam.

Years later, Bebe would encounter Ben, now known as Benji, at the B-Boy Masters Pro-Am in 2001. Benji’s style and presence had changed in a way that Bebe felt was reflective of his biting Ground Zero and Lionz of Zion’s moves.

“Maybe I’m not making a lot of money off this. I’m not a rich rapper or whatever. But I live to at least know that I’m influencing somebody, whether I realize it or not. Shit makes me choke up inside, how good that feels.”

A dramatic confrontation climaxed with a showdown in the semifinals, but the rivalry continued to a battle at Mighty 4 in San Diego and once more in a park.

“After that, it was a wrap,” Bebe says. “In France, they’re still like, ‘You and Benji! You and Benji!’ What am I supposed to think of him? As far as I know, he doesn’t break anymore. I’m still a practitioner. I was dancing before he was and still am after he was. I don’t have bad blood with a brother. If I saw him in person, I would probably thank him for our rivalry.”

Bebe’s intensity seems at least in part to be a byproduct of his roots in Miami, where he says the overall atmosphere is rawer than in other cities.

And that Miami rawness has helped him to travel all around the globe. Bebe’s personal favorite b-boy trips include his visit to Japan in 2002 where he battled Korean b-boys and met hip-hop pioneers as well as a trip to Spain in 2003, where he and his brothers felt a connection to the culture through their language and heritage.

“Traveling the world and meeting people I touched firsthand is the greatest blessing of all,” Bebe says. “Maybe I’m not making a lot of money off this. I’m not a rich rapper or whatever. But I live to at least know that I’m influencing somebody, whether I realize it or not. Shit makes me choke up inside, how good that feels.”

Bebe also lived in California for the past four years in an attempt to further his career in the entertainment history.

Successful as the move was, landing him some key appearances on TV shows, music videos, and commercials, he found that he couldn’t stay away from Miami, where he moved in 2008.

While the scene was bigger and more advanced in LA, Bebe said he was quickly burned out on the fakeness and the nepotism of the industry.

“The more noise I started making on the b-boy tip in LA, the more I started traveling,” Bebe says. “I didn’t want to subject myself to that prostitution. The main different it’s just more laid back over here [in Miami]. Miami’s about that fire – that hot Latino energy and shit. LA’s got a dope scene, but it’s more raw out here, that’s for damn sure.”

So in an effort to collide the coasts, Bebe threw Who Can Roast the Most? 7 (read our review on the DVD here) in California before moving back.

“The whole reason for Roast was I was sick of these little microwave battles with one round or two rounds. Anybody can get over anybody in one or two rounds,” Bebe says. Look, the thing about Roast is you don’t need any judges. In 10 rounds, it’s clearly evident who wins the battle, no discussion, no disputing it. 10 rounds is very revealing.

“When you become a combatant of Roast and join the chain of the Florida warrior b-boy passage and endured 10 rounds against a b-boy of equal or greater stature, it changes you. Just in preparation to go 10 rounds, that’s a lot for you. You get put through the flame of truth. You kinda see highly-acclaimed b-boys fall to pieces or do well. It really humanizes some of these names sometimes. It changed the way people battle. You have to battle with strategy.”

Roast 7 was quickly followed up later in 2008 by Roast 8, which took place back in Florida. Though there were a few snags, Bebe says bringing the battle back to Miami was a refreshing reminder of the energy and the city’s pride, evident in the crowd’s hypeness and responsiveness.

That brought Bebe’s track record for 2008 to two thrown jams, one Spy Award (which he received alongside A-B-Girl, whom we featured here) and countless battles.

But Bebe isn’t showing any signs of slowing down, as Roast 9 is in the works for next year, as well as tentative plans for one in New York.

Bebe says he plans to strike a balance between judging, battling, and promoting while also helping to rejuvenate the Miami scene and its newest generations of dancers.

And he has bigger visions as well, including his long-time goal of establishing an industry standard so that b-boying can provide a sustainable income.

“This is the first time that two generations of breaking have gone uninterrupted back to back completely mainstream,” Bebe says. “Promoters are making mad dough and b-boys who make event aren’t making any money. I feel like people need to stop falling into the same trap. Even if you win a few hundred, where is your longevity?

“Of course I’m going to cause opposition. I’ve been all around the world, and they’ve been all around the World Wide Web.”

“One bad thing about breaking is people don’t value b-boys because there’s already somebody else who will spin on their head for less money or for free,” Bebe continues. “There’s people undercutting each other. If we all start playing hardball, everybody has to pay you what you need. Things like that need to be set in stone because it gives us a base and somewhere to go off of, especially with some bigger events with huge corporations’ backing from giant sponsors and pulling twenty thousand or more people.

“At what point do you start giving back to your community and start looking out for people or creating positions to help people and make sure the artform is continued with its integrity and icons well taken care of? Skateboarding is sponsored. I don’t get why our industry hasn’t gotten there. Part of the spirit of hip-hop and battling is everybody has a chip on their shoulder and nobody wants to work together. But on some real business shit, I think we all want the same thing. Everybody has to sit down and have an industry standard. Until that day, there’s not much to grow off of,” he concludes.

To critics, words about unity and swallowing pride might seem a bit ironic coming from a guy who is reputed to be one of the meanest and the most competitive in the game.

But perhaps years of actively filling different roles in the b-boy community has equipped Bebe to not only handle haters but also to anticipate them.

“If people are hating you, you must be doing something right,” he says. “All the people who love you and hate you are all the same. The people who hate you can’t process that love. Or they’re jealous or have different motives. I had an interview with Breakvision, and they asked me a similar question about being someone who caused a lot of controversy with that swag to back it up. I said, ‘Of course I’m going to cause opposition. I’ve been all around the world, and they’ve been all around the World Wide Web.’”

For sure, Bebe is no stranger to critics shit-talking. Most recently, he’s received flak for a widely circulated video of him kicking a guy dressed up like a pirate in Hollywood.

The incident took place during a session with the Concrete Allstars.

According to Bebe, this particular Jack Sparrow was known to hassle the b-boys and was acting as if he were drunk.

“We go out there to train, and we also go out there to make our money,” Bebe explains. “We were like, ‘Yo, dude, you do not own the streets. You’re blowing balloons and waving, and we’re flipping.’ He was cussing at us and was basically calling us pussies. He started challenging our manliness. Even other costumed characters grabbed him and warned them. There were even people in the crowd trying to push him and beat him. People in the audience were saying, ‘Move, pirate, move!’ They wanted to see a breaking show.

“We were basically doing powermoves to make sure he moved back,” Bebe continues. “I said, ‘I’m gonna do headspins, and if you don’t move, and I hit you, we’re gonna have problems.’ Of course, he didn’t move. I was really angry and I lost my cool. The fact that I was upside down and could have hurt my neck – that was extremely dangerous. It pissed me off so much that I pushed up. Then I was in the air, and I thought I was in the Matrix, and I drop-kicked him.

“I don’t condone violence,” Bebe says. “But when somebody comes to your face, calls you a pussy, and gets in the way of your money, I’d like to see what you do. My manhood was challenged. I had to move.”

In fact, controversy and criticism has been such a factor in Bebe’s life that he has been known to thank his haters and competitors, such as when he won the Spy Award.

“If they hadn’t made me angry and made me practice, I wouldn’t have gotten this good,” Bebe explains. “It makes you think about what’s this guy’s best stuff – how to counter. It makes gets you on your grind. It puts the pressure on. GI Joes need Cobra. Transformers need Decepticons. God needs the devil. There has to be a yin and yang to transcend polarities. Without that rivalry, there’s no way for us to go through and transcend.”

And perhaps it’s that balance of using both the good and the bad to progress that has helped Bebe find such longevity in the game. He is known, after all, to internalize both in himself and his crew.

“I feel like most of the misconceptions [people have about me] have been put to rest already by example of the way I been living,” Bebe says. “People thought we were assholes – mean punks. But I think anybody who comes up to me or said anything to me will find that we’re cool, calm approachable people off the battlefield. But during the battle, we’re absolute warlords and monsters and we’re gonna rip your head off.”

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But in 1991, when b-boy visionaries Storm and Swift Rock made their pilgrimage from Germany with their crew Battle Squad, they made a surprising discovery: there was only one active b-boy still representing in the streets and in the clubs in all of New York.

Momentum for the culture had died out as dancers and hip-hoppers moved on to the party dances that became the center of the hip-hop dance movement. By the mid-’80s, many saw b-boying as an outdated and laughable fad.

The story goes that the b-boy exposed the crew to New York powermove styles and techniques, showed them the moves as well as the movement, and especially mentored Storm — the American b-boy’s way of paying homage to his influences. The group inadvertently ended up re-inspiring the same b-boys who had been their own inspirations, and the b-boy scene was rejuvenated.

Today, people still don’t know much about that b-boy in New York who held his ground despite the jeers of naysayers.

He still prefers to stay in the shadows, away from the spotlight of the big events, the Internet, and the drama of the b-boy community at large.

It’s a ninja mentality evident even in how he battles, dresses, and thinks. He doesn’t reveal much about himself other than occasional sound bites or interviews. He has an entire arsenal of moves that only comes out in extreme battle circumstances. His clothing and accessories rarely bear clues as to his name or his crew.

His stealthiness seems to contrast the fact that he once painfully stuck out like a sore thumb. But perhaps it was that silent determination that enabled him to persist through a time when b-boying almost died in the same city where it was born.

“Maybe that was my role to be played in this whole play,” Kwikstep is saying. His voice is marred by the pops and static of poor cell phone reception. His words are occasionally overpowered by what sounds like the rumbling and screeching of a crowded subway car.

“It was an amazingly lonely road to walk in the mid-’80s in Pumas, Puma and T.I. suits, Nike Cortez and Adidas – with people laughing at me like I was a comedic anomaly,” he continues. “And I’d say, ‘Nah, this is like a tradition.’ This whole shit could stop tomorrow and I’ll still be the same dude practicing in the park … Even the cops who saw me dancing would say to me, ‘You’re the one dude who never, ever stops — I can’t believe you’re still doing that!’”

His name is Gabriel Joseph Torres Dionisio, and he was born in 1968 in New York City.

His story reads like the b-boy version of “I Am Legend.”

He speaks with urgency, as if there’s only so much time for the people to hear his message before it evaporates into the city’s busy streets. His responses to basic questions are complex, shifting in time, tone and subject. His diction is filled with allusions to movies, music, pop culture, New York clubs and hip-hop pioneers. His voice is both weighed by years of struggle and lifted by an intense passion for dance.

Elements of mystery and mythology mingle in the details, but this story begins with a young boy who became fascinated by Frosty Freeze’s one-shot drill into a bridge on TV as well as the movements of The Lockers, The Electric Boogaloos, and The Floor Masters (who later became the New York City Breakers) — a boy who would, in turn, help the resurgence of b-boying across the world.

The year was 1975. Words like “Vietnam War” and “Watergate scandal” were filling the headlines, but a young Dionisio was more caught up in words like “Soul Train” and “Shields and Yarnell.”

Inspired, he began with the robot, and hungry for more, he began his journey into hip-hop dance through New York electric boogie, popping, and gliding.

By 1981, he had made his way to b-boying by way of his friends and other dancers at the parks, community centers, and roller rinks. Eventually, he made his way to clubs like the Roxy, the Roseland Ballroom, and the Fun House.

“I was observing and dabbling in all kind of circles,” he says. “The neighborhoods and clubs I went to had so much to offer; you didn’t even need go to a school to learn. I guess I just wanted to be a part of all of it. I was very lucky. I started in ‘81. The guys that taught me started in the ‘70s. I got the best of both worlds.”

The best of both worlds, that is, as well as the worst period between both.

By 1986, it was difficult to find b-boys in the Manhattan clubs or in the streets. The culture was vanishing even at clubs like the Roseland Ballroom – one of b-boying’s last strongholds. The mere appearance of b-boys throwing down in a cypher spurred people to spit and throw ice on the dance floor – and the b-boys themselves.

“The dance got played out commercially by the time it was my time to burn,” Dionisio says. “Nobody wanted to see it anymore. People stood on the floor so we wouldn’t be able to dance.”

But it was too late for him – he had already caught the bug. By the time he was 19, he had already toured around China on a 12-city trip – an experience that Dionisio says was one of the most significant highlights of his b-boy career.

“It moved me because I went to perform in a stadium in front of 15,000 people,” he says. “And I was dancing, and I did the show, and I did another solo to do the encore. I went down, and I was dancing and did headspins, and the crowd – the noise was deafening.

“Then I got up,” Dionisio continues. “The basketball court stadium was huge. All of a sudden, I saw nothing but Asian faces in front of me. They had broken the barriers and flooded the stadium. There were Asian faces hugging me, kissing me, and picking me up. And I thought, ‘If one little shy kid from Queens and Brooklyn can do this without speaking a word and enlighten and communicate through dance – I can do this the rest of my life.’”

So he adapted.

While still staying true to the b-boy spirit, Dionisio frequented the clubs and dance circles where other dance styles were taking over the floors. With the same voracious appetite for dance that he had as a child, he integrated dance styles like the cabbage patch, the wop, the Fila, freestyle dancing, and house dancing, taking his time to give proper attention to each style.

Like the streets, Dionisio had learned that dancing in the club had its own distinct culture and flavor.

“I learned breaking in the streets. But when you go to break in the club, now it’s a different venue,” he says. “It’s not a community center or block party. You’re actually going to entertain. You are the entertainment. If you were good, you built a rep in the club, and people knew your name for your skills in the cypher. The music [in the clubs] was engineered to bring you through a trip – even if you didn’t do drugs, it brought the best out in you. Music producers like Mantronix messed with your mind. The way his music was mathematically put together and engineered actually made you go into a trance.”

Dancing to songs like T La Rock’s “It’s Yours,” Mantronix’s “Big Band B-Boy,” and John “Jellybean” Benitez’s re-edit of “Key West” at the Fun House, Dionisio honed his ability to blend and transcend eras of dance – a talent he still uses today.

Dionisio’s aim to change with the times without forgetting his roots was visible even in his powermoves. Rather than simply doing powermoves themselves, he focused on the power of the moves. Even while spinning, he’d glide, speed up, and slow down by tensing and relaxing different parts of his body.

Such control and flow allowed for combos in which he’d go from footwork to windmills to tracks to backspins to handless headspins to donuts (also known as magnetic glides, invented by Kid Freeze of Dynamic) into a freeze — all without missing a beat.

“B-boying is now being done at events under bright lights,” he says. “A lot of b-boys don’t know what it’s like to dance in a club where the lights and sounds are engineered to get you open and escape from your problems. Even the names of the clubs let you know you were escaping — you went from your house to the Fun House. If you grew up in the club, you can’t help but dance on beat. You actually spun in rhythm to the 808 beats, cymbals, bass lines, Roland synthesizers, and the words.

“And when we weren’t breaking, we wanted to dance with a female,” Dionisio continues. “A lot of b-boys can’t dance with a female – they just know how to stand around hugging the wall. I wasn’t with that. I was learning other dance styles, like the Webo, Lofting, and uprocking.”

There was a lot to learn in the company of iconic dancers and crews like Stretch, Peekaboo, Voodoo Ray, Link, and the I.O.U. dancers, from whom he learned about the hip-hop party and freestyle dances. He was also able to sharpen his skills in choreography, locking, and popping as an original member of Rhythm Technicians, which was founded by Mr. Wiggles and Lock-A-Tron-John.

But between 1986 and 1991, Dionisio was never able to shake off the painful awareness that he felt alone because breaking was dying in New York.

Other b-boys still existed and danced, but none were actively and visibly making the rounds and participating in the streets with the hitters and in the Manhattan club scene — at venues like Club 1018, Red Zone, The Sound Factory, The Palladium, Nell’s, Mars, and the Octagon — where Dionisio held it down.

Describing those challenging times, Dionisio’s voice seems both rife with frustration and filled with pride of having made it through it all.

“I never said, ‘I didn’t see you there’ – I would never say that,” he says. “There were many reasons why you would stop [b-boying]. The whole scene was demolished. I have a special attachment to this dance. Hittin’ — dancing in the streets for money with Float Committee, The Breeze Team, United Street Artists and The Transformers — is how I ate. How I paid rent. I had an abusive relationship in my family, and this kept me sane.”

“I’m affiliated because I held it down,” Dionisio continues. “I got scars, emotional and physical. I had chicken pox and I still danced in the streets to pay my rent. With a 102 fever. There’s a lot of that shit that was humbling. It was fucked up that the people watching me couldn’t see what I was doing was worthwhile to me. I helped to hold it down when most people could care less about breaking.”

So when Storm and Swift Rock appeared in Dionisio’s territory, he felt that it was his duty to serve as a diplomat of the New York b-boy scene.

He led them around the city, taking them where breakers still hung out and showing them why b-boys danced the way they did and how the dance had evolved.

Dionisio also mentored the German b-boys – especially Storm – by imparting to them moves and history, showing them the methods of his smooth flow and transitions, giving them access to the treasures of his personal journeys, and serving as a bridge to a wealth of b-boy knowledge.

When the duo returned to Germany, they left not only with new moves, but with a new insight into the movements, a new understanding of the culture, a new b-boy fashion sense, and for Storm, even a new name.

As a testament to all that the duo had learned in New York in 1991, Dionisio gave Storm – who formerly went by Swipe Rock – the name “Storm” as a derivation of the name of the comic book character.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

A year later, Dionisio would help found the hip-hop collective Full Circle Productions, where he still works to this day with his wife B-Girl Rokafella. Established as a non-profit organization in 1996, the collective educates and empowers the community through workshops, outreaches, and residencies.

Dionisio says the decision to make the collective a non-profit was a reflection of their desire to make the organization more like a family.

And thus far, that “family” has been featured in theatres, music videos, films, commercials, and live performances at places like the Kennedy Center and the Library of Congress.

The pride in Dionisio’s voice is evident when he describes the collective’s achievements.

“Everything we’ve done has been top-notch. We work hard. In underground hip-hop, there is no in-between. Either you’re dope or you’re not. If you don’t have it, go in the lab and practice,” he says.

The days of being one of the last visible b-boys are long gone for Dionisio, whose busy days are now filled with workshops, e-mails, training new dancers in the company, and keeping in contact with b-boys and b-girls he’s directly taught, including Storm, Kmel, Teknyc, Abstrak, Flipz, Mach 3, Ken Fury, Rocism, Arsin, Rival, Rokafella, Asia 1, Jewels, Incredible Josh, Gumby, Ice, and members of the Speedy Angels crew of Venezuela.

“Not reinventing myself, but re-imagining how I rep is what this is all about,” says Dionisio, who currently represents Full Circle Productions of the Bronx, the Fresh Kids of Coney Island, Star Child La Rock of the Bronx, and the Lordz of Finesse of Denver.

Of course, he still trains in his b-boying every day, and his unique experiences with b-boying have made for some interesting perspectives on b-boying as a dance and a culture.

He’s still a proponent of learning all forms of b-boying, including powermoves — especially headspins, for which his variations are infamous. He’s known for his seemingly endless shapes, speeds, and drills, including an ability to take off his jacket, tie it around his waste, and put it back on — all while spinning — then stop on beat.

“You get more props if you can do everything,” he says. “I love to spin. Spinning is fun. It’s like flying, and it’s how I get high. One thing that will never, ever get played out is headspins. It’s one constant thing in b-boying that always catches attention; I mean, damn, you’re spinning on your skull plate!”

But b-boying – and as a result, his approach to it – has changed a lot since 1986, for better or for worse.

“I have to be emotionally involved to even want to battle,” Dionisio says. “I’m taking on the bully through my dancing. The scene doesn’t really call for that anymore.”

So, as he’s done his entire life, he adapts to the situation to survive. After all, newer stages of b-boy publicity hasn’t been unkind to Dionisio; he has been able to do work for Nike, Dr. Pepper, Levi’s, the Daily Show, Live with Regis and Kelly, and the film Brown Sugar as well as collaborations with big names like KRS-One, Lords of the Underground, Will Smith, Monie Love, Fabolous, and Missy Elliott.

And as far as b-boy events go, he’s contributed to Red Bull BC One, Battle of the Year, and Red Bull Beat Riders. He’s also recognized as an original member of the Rhythm Technicians and GhettOriginal, which were groundbreaking for performances in the styles of hip-hop musicals and hip-hop theatre, respectively.

But one can hypothesize that seeing b-boying dying once in 1986 was one time too many, and Dionisio is wary of the media representation of b-boys.

“I probably won’t play the role of an MTV star if it compromises my beliefs and integrity in hip-hop,” he says. “That takes a certain kind of void in a person. MTV has voids that it needs to fill with worker drones and puppets; there isn’t a lot of room for people like me. I don’t fit that perspective at all. You can be of the people and a hero to the people or become an iconic asshole.”

It carries over into his interactions with other b-boys as well. In an age where many b-boys emphasize flashiness and visibility via the Internet – exposing everything they have and leaving nothing to the imagination – Dionisio prefers to play off of what people don’t see.

“Cats know that I’m the most underestimated b-boy, and I’m proud of that title,” he says. “Because that literally means to be the breaker that people take the most precautions with. There’s almost a fear of ‘What is that motherfucker capable of?’ I like that.

“When I see a camera go on, I try as much as I can to avoid the cameras,” Dionisio continues. “I wanted to be in stories that are recorded in a person’s memory and not on video. I didn’t want them to see videos of me, because then they say, ‘Oh yeah, I saw him do that already.’ Even on YouTube, there’s not a lot of footage of me, and that’s intentional. The stuff you do see, it’s like, ‘That’s nothing compared to stories I heard.’ When I walk into a jam, it’s like, ‘Yo, that’s him, and what I heard is true!’”

It’s a mentality with origins that go back even before he became the last visible b-boy in New York.

“I represent the voice of the unknown kings like the Incredible Breakers and the b-boys with no names on their shirts,” Dionisio says. “I’ma make you look at the dude who has no name on his shirt and you’ll be like, ‘Yo, who the hell is that and what does he eat?’”

Dionisio’s protective attitude of breaking even extends to the word “b-boy” itself.

“Because it’s popular, the same thing that happened with word ‘breakdancing’ is happening with the word ‘b-boying,’” he says. “The same thing that happened with the word ‘hip-hop’ — overexposure and commercial saturation that has nothing to do with its origins.

“I don’t give a shit what anybody says,” he continues. “There are corny people saying ‘b-boy’ who haven’t earned the title yet, and ‘b-boying’ was about breaking stereotypes. Breaking the mold constantly through creativity and individuality. It becomes mundane if you keep saying ‘b-boying.’ Keep using it, and see what happens. That word you wanna honor is gonna become wood. And it allows the media to puts nails all in it and hang whatever they want on it to the point where the cats who made the culture can barely recognize it anymore. Use it in context, or it backfires.”

Dionisio’s passion for b-boying is certainly understandable. It’s how he managed to survive through difficult times, and it’s also how he celebrates the good times – coming full circle.

“Everything [b-boys] learned through breaking, they can apply to real-life situations,” he says. “When you learn how to control the cypher, you know how to take control of your life. When you learn how to battle, you learn how to take on things that come up. When you lose and train and go back to win, it teaches you how to take bumps and bruises in life. When you work hard for something you love, it teaches you how to work hard to get what you want.

“All the lessons in breaking you learn through breakthroughs,” he continues. “And you go to another level that you couldn’t get to before.”

And perhaps that’s what it all boils down to. Even after almost three decades – over two thirds of his life – of defending and pursuing a dance that still doesn’t receive much respect as an art form, Dionisio still fights to pass on the tradition through Full Circle Productions, where worthy students are given the privilege of representing the Full Circle Souljahs.

Ironically, having seen New York when there were barely any b-boys, he now dreams that New York’s b-boys can be better unified and more showcased to the world.

But Dionisio is confident that even though he’s given so much into his relationship with b-boying, the relationship has been mutually beneficial. After all, b-boying has and will continue giving back to him even after he’s gone, even if all that remains of him is the legend of one of the last visible b-boys in New York of his generation — one who helped future generations to understand how to make power moves through the power of a movement.

“I dance free. I feel so light when I dance, spiritually. That is what enabled me to have longevity in this game,” he says. “When you have that fire in your heart, nobody can fucking stop you. I could pass tomorrow, and my rep stays solidified.”

Kwikstep sends special thanks to the following for their knowledge and inspiration: Seven Deadly Sins, The Fresh Kids, Incredible Body Mechanics, Incredible Breakers, Wild Style Crew, The Executioners (Doug, Wayne Blizz, and Poe), East Bronx Breakers, Dynamic Breakers, Dynamic Rockers, Lou Rok and VQ from the Bronx, German, Eddie Ed of the Float Committee, JayDay of the Breeze Team, Klown from United Street Artists , Frosty Freeze, Kippy Dee, Take One, Teddy of the Fresh Kids in Italy, Megaflash, Fish of Union City, Sime, Kwon from Swift Kids, Charlie “SK Mystique” Sanchez, Tic, Shakey Shake (from Uptown), Float and Awesome Paul from Incredible Breakers, The Furious Rockers, Trac 2, Fastbreak, Cso, Powerful, Bandit, Roxy, and Papo from the Fresh Kids, Freeze and Chino of Passaic, the Devilla brothers — Chino, Bryan, Sammy, and Eddie (IB), and his wife, Rokafella, for sticking with him through the good and the bad times — because with a break master, it takes more than a stance.

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As time passed, the concept became more popular, and it eventually became a stereotype for all Asian Americans.

It was popularly believed that not only did Asian cultures equip its people to excel at all things American, but they did unfairly so, to the point where Asian Americans were a threat to the Caucasian majority. In 1971, one journalist expressed it so succinctly as to say that Caucasians resented the fact that Asians and Asian Americans were “out-whiting the whites.”

Even as “underground” and isolated as b-boys and b-girls tend to be, three decades or so later, the same mentality had already begun trickling its way into the b-boy community.

South Koreans, it seemed, were attempting to hijack an American culture and art form and make it their own. Accusations of biting were rampant as American b-boys – and b-boys from around the world – began to criticize the almost inhuman, emotionless ability of Korean b-boys to perform amazing powermoves.

Sure, they can spin forever and do crazy blowups, the average b-boy seemed to argue, but can they rock the beat? Do they have soul? The Koreans seemed to have an unfair advantage that was worthy of jealousy and contempt. They were supposedly treated like celebrities in Korea, with crazy sponsorships, facilities, and fans galore.

The Korean b-boys’ one weakness seemed as ridiculous as the celebrity-status that made it so easy for them to be professional b-boys; apparently, Korean b-boys and non-b-boys alike were obligated to serve 24 to 27 months in the army – a length of time that could effectively halt one’s b-boy career.

Then came along a new wave of Korean b-boys – a group unshakably rooted in foundation and beat-rocking, even to the point where several of them were asked by Alien Ness to join the Mighty Zulu Kingz.

They knew how to rock, how to dress, and how to represent, but most importantly, they were fresh.

Enter Benny Ben, one of those infamous aforementioned Korean beat-killers who represents Rivers Crew (alongside b-boys like Born and Physicx) and the Mighty Zulu Kingz (alongside b-boys like Machine and Casper.)

Born in May of 1987 in the unlikely city of Vienna, Austria (“the country of classical music,” as he calls it), Ben has a biography and a message that defies all expectations one might place on him as a Korean b-boy.

After living in several European countries, Ben began his time in the US when he was in middle school, primarily residing in the Boston area. It was during this period that he was first exposed to b-boying.

Was it an impromptu street battle in the Bronx? A coincidental run-in with an OG? A prophetic dream hinting at his future fortune?

Surprisingly (or unsurprisingly, depending on how you look at it), it was none of the above.

Ben’s unlikely primary encounter with b-boying came through a music video by the California-based punk bad The Offspring – the video for Pretty Fly for a White Guy, to be exact.

“There was a little part in the video where b-boys got down in a circle, and I told myself, ‘I’ve gotta try this out,’” Ben says.

Three years would go by before Ben felt that he had paid his dues long enough to consider himself a true b-boy.

“The first 3 years, I was only moving, doing movements without knowing the connection between the music and the dance,” he admits.

The transition took place a few years before Ben enrolled at the University of Illinois to study business. It was there that he began to associate with the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign Hip Hop Congress, or UC Hiphop for short. He also met b-boys like Wayneski of the Mighty Zulu Kingz as he sessioned and battled across the Midwest.

In 2006, Ben himself was asked to join the Mighty Zulu Kingz.

“People think that battling 10 members of our crew is the way to get down, but that’s not it,” Ben says. “The battle is a traditional way – a form of an initiation – that the Zulu Kingz strive to maintain. It took me about six months to build with the members and etc. before I could get down with the crew.”

Only two years later, Ben would find himself rolling with Rivers Crew, one of Korea’s most accomplished and notorious b-boy crews.

Another surprise: despite his affiliations, Ben doesn’t consider himself to be a full-time b-boy, nor does he give the usual spiels about b-boying all-day, everyday.

“I am just like any other college boy who puts the time most people would spend in going to parties, etc., into going to the studio and practicing,” he says. “I don’t like to think that I’m a b-boy celebrity. I am honored and flattered by b-boys, if any, who are inspired by my dancing.”

He also applies this same ideology to the rest of the Rivers Crew.

“We love to chill and hit up the clubs, the beaches, and etc.,” Ben says. “We are just like any other group of young boys and girls who love to enjoy our lives to the fullest. But when there’s a cypher going on, you know we’re gonna wreck some shop!”

In fact, Ben operates within a relatively straightforward schedule, even fulfilling the requirements for his mandatory Korean military requirements while also maintaining his professional b-boy status.

“There are different types of services you can do in order to satisfy the military service requirement,” he explains. “Serving at a public agency in the city will allow you to stay home and go to work like a regular nine-to-six job, five workdays a week. This allows the b-boys to practice after they get out of work and enter competitions, which usually happen on the weekends.

“I go to work from eight to five,” Ben continues. “Then head to the studio and practice from six to eight. I usually train four or five days a week, two hours per session. But if we have a competition coming up, then we practice till the break of dawn!”

Practicing usually entails preparing for shows and battles as well as various performances the crew puts on monthly, as organized by the crew’s manager and crew leader.

Any of Ben’s free time aside from work, practicing, and sessioning usually goes toward digging for fresh funk and soul music.

However, appealing as it may seem to have relative fame, an opportunity to see the world by way of b-boying, and perpetually fresh kicks (Nike sponsorship, anyone?), Ben says his life isn’t all glitz and glamour.

“The hardest part of being a ‘professional’ b-boy would be times where you’ve got to dance against your will,” he explains. “That could range anywhere from doing shows, competitions, interviews and etc.

”Honestly, it doesn’t pay,” Ben continues. “Right now, all the money we get by doing shows goes to paying off our studio rent. But it’s all good – if we did it for the money, we would have never came this far.”

But money for the future isn’t a huge concern. Partly because Ben doesn’t consider himself a “fulltime” b-boy, he plans to return to Illinois to complete his business degree.

”Hopefully I’ll become a successful businessman who is also able to get down in the cyphers even when I’m 40-plus years old,” he says.

But – for now, anyway – Ben’s focus is on Korea, where the b-boy culture continues to grow and mature.

Despite the universality of b-boying, cultural and regional differences between the United States and Korea have caused inevitable differences not only in the way b-boys from either country dance, but also in how they interact, practice, and battle.

For instance, some say that the dynamics of sessions in Korea differ drastically from American circles.

“The concept of a true cypher (not people sitting in a circle) is still very much new to the scene, and I can understand why it would feel more natural for the b-boys to practice by themselves,” Ben explains. “But we usually cypher in our crew practices because it just feels more natural to us.”

Ben further concedes that he has noticed both positive and negative stereotypes concerning Korean b-boys. For example, overeager fans (otherwise known as dick-riders) might assume any b-boy from Korea is dope, while those who are overly critical (otherwise known as haters) might associate all Koreans with power moves or biting.

However, Ben seems the most outspoken in his analysis of the way Koreans weigh the significance of competitions against that of cyphers.

”I have learned that the Korean society places a lot of value in competition and placing first in them,” Ben says. “That’s why the b-boying scene in Korea evolves around huge competitions and winners getting national attention. In my personal opinion, you can’t really put a placement in an art form. It’s like saying Mozart places first and Beethoven second, and that doesn’t make sense because they are both great musicians, and it’s a matter of different style in the same genre of music.”

Or, as Ben’s MySpace seems to sum it up, “Fuck the final battle, i’m going back to the ciphers.”

At times, such a priority can mean the loss of a competition title for Ben and his crewmates, but Ben believes that the preservation of the culture is well worth the price.

“Not to boast, but our crew made it to the finals in almost every major competition that took place in Korea this year,” Ben explains. “And I can proudly say that we are one of the only crews in Korea that makes as much noise in the cyphers as we do in our competitions. I would only wish that people around the world would not only judge us by how we do in competitions but how we are striving to maintain the essence of this dance.

”People talk a lot about our outcome in R-16 this year,” Ben continues. “True, we could have saved up our energy by not dominating the outdoor cypher under the blazing sun for four or five hours before our battles, but like I said, that’s not how we envision this dance culture – we were almost dehydrated by the time we had to battle Funky Dope Maneuvers.

“For a b-boy like me, I couldn’t care less if I didn’t have the chance to win another b-boy competition for the rest of my life as long as I have a dope DJ on the 1s and 2s and a dope cypher with dope b-boys that understand the truth of this dance,” he concludes.

It might sound surprisingly idealistic coming from a member of some of the world’s best-known b-boy crews, but one might venture to say that it’s how Ben has managed to set himself apart from countless other dancers.

In fact, even after just a few minutes of footage of Ben’s smooth toprock and intricate footwork, it’s evident that he’s dancing for something greater than money, fame, or mere titles.

“You don’t have to think and practice 24/7 for you to become a better b-boy. Sometimes you gotta skip practice, go out and just experience the different wonders of life, and it’ll be of more value and will definitely show up in your dance.”

Which is ironic, considering that the one request that Ben made for this feature is that videos be left out of the interview, as “videos don’t do b-boys any justice.”

It’s not the only change Ben wishes he could make regarding current trends in Korean b-boy culture – and b-boy culture around the world.

He’s adamant about DJs playing breaks – meaning no popping or locking songs, no repeating songs, and no not looping the breaks. And the advice he gives to up-and-coming b-boys may seem strange to those who have heard phrases like “break life” and “train harder” and “keep practicing” countless times.

”Stay off the Internet, unless you wanna use it on a positive way, rock the cyphers in every event you go, study the music genres of funk and soul and how music makes this dance unique from others, and you’re already halfway there,” Ben advises. “You don’t have to think and practice 24/7 for you to become a better b-boy. Sometimes you gotta skip practice, go out and just experience the different wonders of life, and it’ll be of more value and will definitely show up in your dance.”

It certainly doesn’t sound like anything a soul-less air-flaring monster or greedy b-boy copycat would say.

And as atypical as it seems, the advice seems to have worked out relatively well for this particular Vienna-born, Korean/American/Korean American b-boy – a member of a truly b-boy model minority.

In fact, Ben attributes his own style quirks to the fact that he has been able to familiarize himself with so many different cultures and perspectives over his life – perhaps even including his experiences as a misunderstood b-boy.

“The way I was brought up is what makes me unique,” Ben says, “which shows up in my dancing flava.”

Props to www.modelminority.com.

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When asked what hobbies he enjoys outside of work to relieve stress, Cros1 simply replies, “Work is my hobby.”

Except less wealthy. And less visible. And less flamboyant.

Okay, so maybe Cros1 is nothing like Jay-Z.

But there’s no disputing the fact that Cros1, born Chris Wright on Jan. 25, 1975, is one of the most recognized and respected individuals in the b-boy game.

Take a look at any reputable b-boy DVD over the past decade or so, and you’re likely to spot Cros1 at least a couple of times, easily recognizable with his fly t-shirt, permanent facial hair, shaved head and b-boy smirk. He has, to some extent, become as much of a staple for b-boy events across the world as Dickies, foam caps and tall beanies. Like a b-boy Alfred Hitchcock, he’s the mastermind who runs every detail from behind the scenes, only visible through the sneaky cameo.

Introductory comparisons aside, it all raises one question – what exactly does Cros1 do?

As it turns out, he does a whole lot. Fortunately, he explains it best himself.

“I’m the founder of the Freestyle Session event worldwide, cofounder of the Out For Fame National Championship series, owner of the Armory Survival Gear Stores as well as the clothing brand by the same name,” Cros1 says via e-mail from his San Diego home.

Not too shabby, considering that he honed his professional business abilities by way of graffiti and b-boying.

“I was a graffiti writer from like ’89 to ’97, so getting up and getting my name out there was always the name of the game,” Cros1 explains. “Only through this outlet, it’s legal and it’s building brands. It was a natural progression – though I never set out to do what I do, it just came natural, but once I was in the position, I was able to figure that from my graffiti years my drive was ultimately the same.”

It’s a hustle mentality that’s visible even in Cros1’s MySpace – a tricked-out page that hustles you with a code that forces you to subscribe to his blog each time you visit it, in turn sending you e-mail updates about his stores, his events, his DJ gigs, and his life in general.

Even while in attendance at B-Boy City 15 earlier this year in Austin, more often than not, Cros1 could be found sitting at the Armory merch table, hard at work on his laptop.

It makes sense, then, that when asked what hobbies he enjoys outside of work to relieve stress, Cros1 simply replies, “Work is my hobby.”

After all, many a graffiti artist has likened the passion of putting out one’s name to a literal obsession – something that occupies his or her thoughts, money, and schedule, even to the point where it can be unhealthy or harmful.

Just take a look at how Cros1 describes a typical day in his life:

“Wake up, brush teeth, check e-mail, take shower, eat, check e-mail, go to my shops and make sure everything is cool, check e-mail, run errands, check e-mail, check message boards and websites, update blogs, check e-mail, make sure everything is cool, promote things online, check more e-mails … a little bit of all that all day, check my e-mails some more, and probably squeeze in some food in between all that and then pass out at like 2 a.m.,” he says.

It’s probably not worth mentioning that it didn’t take Cros1 very long to reply to our interview request.

And though he’s not quite a millionaire hip-hop mogul yet, the times seem to be paying off. Cros1 has been able to travel the globe and befriend people all over the world, watching people go from young b-boys to “b-men.” With experience, he’s been able to using networking to his advantage to bring exposure and opportunities to b-boys – such as when he and others were featured in an episode of VH1’s Miss Rap Supreme earlier this year.

It also doesn’t hurt that the hip-hop climate has steadily been changing in b-boys’ and b-girls’ favor, and retailers have suddenly found that they are able to market things like t-shirts and headspin caps to wider audiences.

Case in point: Armory was the brand responsible for those JabbaWockeeZ and Super Cr3w t-shirts that everybody and their lil mama have been rocking.

Cros1 says he’s not surprised that the public and the mass media are excited to re-embrace b-boy culture at such extremes.

“Breaking is one of the most explosive and entertaining things out there on the market,” he says. “But it’s so underground, and the people that are at the forefront are sometimes real stubborn since it’s been played out once in the 80s. So everything is a bit at our own pace and to our own conditions for the most part … B-boys have too much of a passion and drive to do the best at everything that it’s just too overwhelming not to catch on.”

Which isn’t to say that there isn’t more room for growth and improvement. Popular as it may be, b-boy branding still has yet to reach the level of a truly viable trade.

There is more money to make, more clothing to market, and more misconceptions to squash – such as the rumor that Cros1 merely whores b-boying for the sake of adding to his abundant savings.

“I’ve made my share of money, but at the end of the day I’m still in debt, but the plus side of things is that I have three brands that are known worldwide.”

“People think I’m rich, and people think that it’s real easy what I do,” Cros1 says. “But honestly, 99.99% of the people out there couldn’t even get close to what I do. As for making money, I’ve made my share of money, but at the end of the day I’m still in debt, but the plus side of things is that I have three brands that are known worldwide.”

One can certainly sympathize with his frustration. Even with the relative notoriety that comes with being a celebrity in the worldwide b-boy community, dancing and supporting the culture doesn’t always translate to paying the bills or being recognized in other circles. Cros1 laments that even most professional b-boys and b-girls barely make enough to get by.

“It’d be sad if I threw out a number,” he says. “That’s not to say that it’s impossible to make it as a professional, but it is a long and hard road.”

But even when funds may be lacking and there is a growing demand for anything that can be labeled as “hip-hop” or “b-boy,” Cros1 stays wary of straying from his roots and making poor business decisions.

“I’ve had tons of opportunities to ‘sell out,’ but I refuse unless it’s to my own conditions that I set out from the jump,” he says. “I do business with trustworthy people and only work if things are fair across the board. If it’s not remotely close to that, then the people can hit the road.”

And as far giving advice to aspiring b-boy professionals, Cros1 says he attributes his own success to tackling things as they come along, running a tight schedule, and having a good supporting cast.

“I just say this: read everything you are signing off on, and double check everything and anything. If something is too good to be true, it usually is,” Cros1 says. “If the total population of your city is like 50,000, don’t expect to have 1,000 people at your jam. Budget something that can be accomplished. Don’t be afraid to start off small and work your way up. Don’t try and come out the woodworks and be Freestyle Session. It’s not gonna happen. Start off comfortable and figure your way around the game, and just go from there.”
But don’t be expecting to be taking Cros1’s place anytime in the near future. Working is, after all, his hobby, meaning it’s what he has been doing, is doing, and will be doing regardless of the money, fame, or recognition.

But that doesn’t mean he’s unwilling to help others out. When asked what motivates him, Cros1 replies, “It’s the next generation, point blank. I want people to enjoy and get [as much] out of this culture as I did when I was growing up.”

And at the end of the day, that satisfaction that Cros1 gets from pouring into the community is both what propels him forward and stops him from retiring any of his projects – even when he himself wants to stop.

In fact, 2004’s Freestyle Session 8 was supposed to be the last of its kind, but only a few years went by before Cros1 and company decided to go “balls to the wall” for Freestyle Session 10 Year Anniversary, complete with live performances and prizes. Then there was the success of this year’s Freestyle Session, after which Cros1 still doesn’t seem to been slowing down.

And so it seems that the only thing Cros1 can’t do is to stop himself – even to the point where the game calls him out of his retirement.

Perhaps he’s not so different from Jay-Z after all.

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In the beginning, there was the Bronx.

And the spirit of hip-hop moved over the streets, resounding off speakers and alleyways into the ears, hearts and minds of the party people.

And Kool Herc saw that it was good.

And James Brown commanded, “Get on the good foot!” and the dancers obliged, and the entire world saw that it was good.

And Kool Herc called the dancers b-boys.

And Nathanael said unto him, Can there any good thing come out of Nazareth? Philip saith unto him, Come and see.
– John 1:46

Luis Martinez has a lot of names, and most people don’t know him as Luis Martinez.

There’s the “Kid Ness” part, given to him by Ness of Grandmaster Flash of the Furious 5; and there’s the “Alien” part, given to him by Afrika Bambaataa; and “Ness4,” a tribute to Buck 4, one of his mentors; and finally “Rusty Shank,” a name designed to complement a b-boy partner of his.

But Martinez is known around the world as Alien Ness – or just Ness.

The 41-year-old’s b-boy résumé includes accolades from respected hip-hop authorities ranging from Wyclef Jean to Grand Wizard Theodore to Kurtis Blow.

He’s the president of the Mighty Zulu Kings, which boasts members from across the globe including Omar, Born, Casper, and K-Mel.

He’s the originator of the Octagon – a unique battle method that restricts dancers to a limited floor space, disqualifying them if they touch or cross the boundaries.

But before all else, Ness is undeniably a b-boy.

And just as importantly, he’s from the Bronx – not from the Bronx in the way that he was just born there, but he’s from the Bronx – meaning he is a walking, living, breathing, dancing embodiment of that furnace where hip-hop was forged.

You can hear the Bronx dripping from his voice when he answers his phone from his current home in Switzerland – “Who is this?!”

“If you go to the Bronx, you don’t even have to hang out with breakers,” Ness later explains. “You don’t really got to go to the events. It’s the energy behind the events. I recommend that people just go to the South Bronx and just study the average Bronx person. The way they walk, the way they talk. They talk with their hands. The snapping. The whole part of that energy.

“When you see that and witness that,” Ness continues, “you truly understand the energy behind the dance. When you understand the energy, it’s easy to take it in and look within yourself and pull out the same energy.”

Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world. Amen.
– Matthew 28:19-20

Though nobody may be able to take the Bronx out of Ness, b-boying certainly has taken Ness far from the Bronx.

Case in point: what was originally planned to be a three-month trip to Switzerland for Ness has now turned into two years of touring across Europe.

Between events, Ness fills the weekdays with reading, writing, doing laundry, working on his projects, planning his next move, and helping his daughter with her homework via Skype and MySpace.

He spends his weekends in countries across Europe attending battles, jams, workshops and competitions.

Luckily, we’ve caught him the day before he’s heading out to Madrid, Spain.

As he usually does before his weekend trips, he’s relaxing and meditating – his own Sabbath.

Ness says that though it can be difficult to be so far from home, his family acknowledges how blessed he is. After all, he has a special opportunity to make a living traveling the world and teaching people Bronx style.

To get in such a position, however, was by no means an easy task.

“My mother used to always tell me, ‘You gotta watch what the poor people do, and don’t do it.’”

After seeing workshops where students were merely taught choreographed routines, Ness became fed up with teachers who encouraged their students to simply look and move like other b-boys.

When he began teaching in 2001, Ness decided to create his own method. After about 20 minutes of drilling all the students with toprock and footwork, he’d meet with each of the individuals personally and help them with their strengths and weaknesses.

This meant that students wouldn’t all have to learn the same routine – which, in turn, also meant that they wouldn’t be laughed at if they decided to show off their moves in a cipher or battle.

Applauded by b-boys and b-girls such as Machine, Kmel, and Asia One, Ness’s training techniques gained a notoriety that prepared a path for him around the globe.

“My mother used to always tell me, ‘You gotta watch what the poor people do, and don’t do it,’” Ness says. “I use that philosophy in life. If I want to be good at something, I watch everyone else and go somewhere different with it.”

Think not that I am come to destroy the law, or the prophets: I am not come to destroy, but to fulfil. For verily I say unto you, Till heaven and earth pass, one jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass from the law, till all be fulfilled.
– Matthew 5:15-17

Ness doesn’t really take compliments well. Not certain ones, anyway.

“I’m not a legend,” he adamantly declares. “I am not a pioneer. I am not an innovator of the dance.”

It may seem like a strange thing to say, especially from someone who so strongly espouses expanding and furthering the b-boy culture (“You have to add something to the game,” Ness says. “That’s what’s been making dance so big. Shit is futuristic how. Triple one hand airflares – when I saw that, I looked at Ivan, and I said, ‘I thought I had seen it all.’”)

Rather, Ness has taken on the lofty task of serving as a sort of historian, teacher and journalist for the b-boy culture.

In his search to provide his students with something more than mere choreographed moves, he found himself consulting some of the world’s most influential b-boys and soaking up all the moves, names, and history they had to offer.

But, serving as a testament to the old saying that nothing in life is free, there was a catch.

“In 2001, that’s when I really started asking Trac 2 to teach me,” Ness says, “And one of the first things he said was, ‘Okay, I’ll teach it to you. I’ll teach you anything you want to learn. But you gotta give me your word that you’re not going to take it to the grave. This ain’t just for you. You gotta put it out everywhere. You gotta pass it on.’”

So that’s what Ness does.

Finding inspiration in preserving tradition from people like Fabel and Wiggles, Ness has successfully produced and released a web site and DVDs that provide information not only about the moves of b-boying but also their history and significance.

“For me, it was all about creating the move. I don’t think it’s about that anymore,” Ness explains. “I think somebody needs to tell everybody’s story.

“I’ve been blessed to have come across so many people that have honored me with lessons, so it’s like a tradition – I think I gotta keep passing it down. Any of them guys could stop dancing today, but as long as I’m out here, I’m still dropping their names and teaching what they taught.”

Think not that I am come to send peace on earth: I came not to send peace, but a sword. For I am come to set a man at variance against his father, and the daughter against her mother, and the daughter in law against her mother in law.
– Matthew 10:34-36

Look for any discussion having to do with Ness on any major b-boy message board, and you’ll find that Ness is as infamous as he is famous.

Though he’s befriended almost every significant hip-hop OG in the world and influenced countless b-boys and b-girl, it still doesn’t keep him from having the ability to piss off and offend people across the globe.

Ness has smoked joints – while still dancing – in ciphers. He debates b-boys and OGs alike about what he perceives to be misconceptions of hip hop history. He’s known for his seemingly controversial views on true b-boying and its relationship to the Bronx. He recruits the best b-boys and b-girls from all over the world to represent the Mighty Zulu Kings. He no longer enters solo battles because he can’t control what music the DJ plays.

He does not stretch.

But perhaps the most shocking revelation is that Ness does not practice. At all.

“That’s a part of Alien Ness that people don’t know,” Ness says. “Because I just jump out and dance on command and be the Alien Ness that people expect him to be. I never practice, and stretching is very painful to me.

“To keep tradition and the name alive, I still have to run out in a jam and take every challenge that comes. That puts such an abuse on my body. If people knew what I look like and how I walk, and how I soak after every jam, they would really know how much love I have for this game.”

It’s a stark contrast to the persona Ness has become known for in the cipher – an arrogantly aggressive warrior with endless burns. Away from the music, however, his invincibility fades as he lets his walls down around his disciples.

That vulnerability became frighteningly real for Ness in 2005, when he had to have one of his students carry him out of the 10th anniversary Style Elements battle.

After arriving at the event late and battling Bebe, Roland, Brysen, and then Juse Boogie, Ness was no longer able to walk on his own.

Four days would pass before Ness realized he had fractured a rib in the third round of the finals.

“I’m gonna be honest – I’m not really supposed to be able to do all the things I do with the life I live,” Ness admits. “I don’t recommend it to anyone.”

All scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness:
– 2 Timothy 3:16

Ness is not a practicing Buddhist. He does not practice b-boying.

But he does study Buddhism and meditate. In fact, among other things, he meditates for dance.

So it’s not much of a surprise that Ness has a more strategic, psychological approach to battling than most other b-boys.

He has, after all, been dancing for longer than some of the other Mighty Zulu Kings have been alive. One might hypothesize that after years of competing in and judging countless battles, Ness has obtained a greater patience and a better sense of timing.

In b-boy terms, that translates to the ability to repress the impulse to go completely buck-wild every round of every battle.

It’s the underlying theme of Ness’s upcoming book, “The Art of Battle: Understanding Judged B-boy Battles.” Originally scheduled for an April release this year, Ness has pushed back the publishing date until later to make revisions and await translations.

“I’m not the best b-boy in the world,” Ness says. “I always say I’m not even in my top 100 list. But from the moment I came back in the game and I started watching games, I’ve understood them fully. I’ve been able to beat people I shouldn’t be able to beat.

“The battle is a game of chess. You’re not just gonna smoke your opponent. Know when to hold ‘em and fold ‘em. As I saw more and more contests, I started learning more. I started seeing mistakes in the game. A lot of time people were losing because of their own mistakes, not because they got beat.”

Ness began taking notes for the book in 2001 in the hopes that it would be able to help crews win battles and raise the overall level of consciousness – rather than just skill – in the b-boy game.

Collecting observations from battles, he would dig in his box of papers and scratch and add notes whenever he saw exceptions to his thoughts.

After several drafts, the book is now planned to be published in Korea and Poland, but in the meantime, Ness has plenty to keep him busy. He still returns to the Bronx at least twice a year for a month at a time, and there are plenty of workshops and battles – Octagon and not – around the world to keep him occupied.

And then there’s always the autobiography Ness has begun working on, tentatively titled “Jesus Was A B-Boy.”

“If you look at all the b-boys like Ken Swift, Trac 2, Fabel, Wiggles, Flo [Master], people like that, they’re doing the exact same thing Jesus was doing,” Ness says. “Walking the land and teaching disciples the gospel of what we do.”

And whenever Ness does finish a workshop session, he and his disciples sit down for an opportunity to get candid and ask whatever questions he or she might have, with the workshops sometimes going hours longer than scheduled.

“I think it was the most profound thing,” Ness says. “It was the weirdest thing in the world. I’d be just answering – I remember one was in Sweden with Ghost Crew for verbal knowledge – and one person said, ‘You know what this reminds me of? It reminds of Jesus and all of his disciples.’”

Ness pauses.

“That happened three weekends in a row in three different countries,” he says.

And perhaps that anecdote best sums up Ness. Complex, confusing, or complicated as his character might seem, his faith in his goals and his purpose are simple and clear.

He wants people all over the world to know Bronx style. And if his name happens to get mentioned among other legendary dancers and OGs, that’s fine too – but it’s not all about having a mass following or fame.

“But then there’s the real benefit,” Ness says. “And that’s the opportunity to see all these places, to experience all these experiences, people, places, things, to learn different cultures and different styles. Almost all the beauties of God’s creation. That’s the benefit.”

Related posts:

1. Alien Ness’ “The Art of Battle” Now Available
2. Alien Ness: What’s the Most Important Event on the Planet?
3. The Three Things Ness Will Watch for if He Sees You Dancing

Or, for his name’s sake, a big penis.

But the dancer known as Hella Hung actually goes by several names. Some know him as Hella High Energy Hung, figurehead of the Hung Dynasty crew. His family knows him simply as Hung Van Lam. One of his mentors calls him “the man with the thousand suicides.” Another calls him “Godzilla in a box” or “the Hulk” – because, apparently, Hung means no harm but leaves a trail of destruction. Some fans even go as far as to call Hung the b-boy version of Chuck Norris.

But perhaps the best person with whom Hung can be compared is another performer who shares the same last name: William Hung, who became a celebrity after butchering Ricky Martin’s “She Bangs” on the third season of American Idol.

They’ve both developed cult followings. They can both seem to lack, for the most part, any technical skill in their hobbies. And most significantly, nobody can seem to tell if they really take themselves seriously or if it’s all just a big joke.

But there’s one crucial difference between the two Hungs: ProfoWon, Rob Nasty, Crazy Legs, and Kid David don’t have William Hung’s back.

And though nobody can really be sure how Hella Hung – a 28-year-old Chiu Chow man who enjoys dressing up like a Ninja Turtle, dropping Lion King references (and his own body), and attempting Mortal Kombat moves in real life – became a b-boy celebrity via viral videos, one fact is certain: the fall of the Hung Dynasty won’t be happening anytime soon.

Like any other legend, the story of Hung begins with his birth.

Born in 1980, Hung lived in Vietnam until he was three, when he and his family moved to the United States.

Growing up as a constant target for bullies, Hung was inspired to learn how to fight, spurring a passion for martial arts that continues to heavily influence his style. Equipped with hapkido and inspired by Bruce Lee and sagas with Chinese people flying around in the air, Hung would eventually decide to commit fully to his goal of going to Hollywood and becoming a performer.

Fully, that is, except for his other passion: dancing.

It’s a fire that Hung says was sparked when he was a sophomore in high school. Jilted at a school dance and sticking out like a stylehead in a power cipher, what Hung calls the “I-don’t-give-a-fuck-attitude” came into play as he began to dance by himself.

“I wasn’t cautious of who was watching me, and I didn’t ever care,” Hung says. “Girls come to you not because you ask them on date, but because you’re doing something good. So here I am, going to a school dance with no girls and ended up dancing with hella girls and doing moves I didn’t even know I had.”

Several dance moves, raves, and years later, Hung’s next dance-related epiphany would take place when he had almost earned a black belt ranking as a martial artist.

While teaching a “stubby, chubby, fat little white kid” – someone with whom Hung felt like he could relate – how to kick in sparring matches, Hung suddenly realized that while he loved the physical challenge of martial arts, he didn’t want to risk hurting anybody – or himself – because of pride or a lack of self control. Drawing motivation from his first cipher experience at a rave, he began to train, seeing it as a way to test his body and try new things.

“I was struggling to do a simple baby freeze,” Hung admits. “It showed me that martial arts doesn’t show me everything.”

In most cases, people who want to learn something will find somebody who can teach them.

Hung, on the other hand, chose a different method. He’d write about it – and then start his own club.

Working at the City College of San Francisco’s student newspaper at the time, Hung was told to write a story about break-dancing. A picture of him doing a freeze was prominently displayed in the issue, which contained information (or misinformation, depending on who’s being asked) about break-dancing and its relationship to people like Debbie Deb and Johnny O.

There was also Hung’s illustration that showed readers how to six-step – incorrectly.

“Everyday, I’d see people complain and have arguments like, ‘School sucked, school sucks.’ So I wondered what can I do that would be fun,” Hung explains. “And you know what the most shocking thing was? You have 50 clubs that are for students. And then what happens is, I’m a student and I’m trying to start a break-dancing club. Instead, what I get is basically the main guy is like, ‘We can’t have it on this college. Well, break-dancing is a risk.’

“And I’m like, ‘Anything is a risk!’” Hung continues. “We can have a basketball team – how is b-boying any different? If we can have a football team, how is break-dancing any different? And I didn’t take no for an answer. If I hadn’t started that club, I wouldn’t have met the b-boys I met. If you know what you want, you go after it and you don’t let nobody get in your way. You become a success.”

And so CCSF Breakin Fridays began to take place, happening as its name implies, at the City College of San Francisco on Fridays from noon until whenever people got tired and wanted to go home.

As fate would have it, Breakin Fridays would help Hung gain exposure with the b-boys he now respectfully refers to as his “teachers.” And, ironically enough, Hung’s mentors wouldn’t just be any b-boys – they’d be some of the West Coast’s most respected OGs.

But first, they’d have to get over hating him.

“Rock Force has been around since 1983,” explains Ronald Creer, better known as ProfoWon.

“We have members basically everywhere. We’ve been around for a long time.”

ProfoWon is explaining how he and his brother Robert, more famously known as Rob Nasty, took it upon themselves to be some of the East Coast’s defenders and teachers of foundation and original style in b-boying.

So Hella Hung didn’t exactly fit into their plan.

“There was this guy, Hung Van Lam, who I felt like was kinda putting out misinformation in the article,” ProfoWon says. “You can’t be misinforming people. Bug Eyed Bandit and Rob – they went to City College – were like, ‘We’ve seen this guy Hung. He carries around linoleum and teaches people how to front tumble and this and that, and he calls it breaking.’

“He would literally just, like, throw himself around,” ProfoWon continues. “I thought he was just a weird guy who was misinformed. I wasn’t really feeling him at first.”

Or, as Hung more bluntly puts it, “They saw me and they hated me. What I knew about breaking was commercial breaking stuff in the ‘80s. They wanted to kill me.”

And despite getting repeatedly roasted, both verbally and on the dance floor, Hung persisted, battling with gymnastics, kung fu, and what he called “sexy dancing.” Realizing that he wasn’t a threat, the b-boys warmed up to Hung, if not his dancing, and the club’s meetings began to look more like sessions.

And to some degree, everyone was able to get on with their lives and goals, and the b-boy balance was restored.

That is, until 2006 – the year of Diamond Studded Bullets in Oakland.

Hung is almost as quick to give credit to the people who’ve helped him out as he is to jump into a cipher – literally – with a Lui Kang-style bicycle kick.

For example, Hung credits Joey Groonz, also known as Groonzmaster of Rat Pack Crew, for encouraging him to enter in battles and for being Hung’s “first hype man.”

Then there’s Rock Bandit – representing Rock So Fresh Crew, Forever We Rock, and the legendary Hound Dog Truckers – who christened Hung with an official b-boy name, bumping out “Freestyle Phoenix,” the name Hung chose for himself.

“I was at Breakin Fridays one day and I just went off, and when I was done, Bug Eyed Bandit, this OG legend, doesn’t say anything. Then he says, ‘When you’re out there dancing, you ain’t b-boying, you straight be hunging. You just be hunging. That is your own thing. B-boy Hella Hung,’” Hung recalls. “Bug Eyed said, ‘Let’s call him Hella Hung. I know you hate Hung, but think of him as a joke. He’s funny.’”

And Hung overflows with never-ending gratitude for whom he calls his “mentors,” ProfoWon and Rob Nasty.

“It’s a blessing that they happen to be my mentors, and they’re doing it for free. And they’re mentoring me because they love me so much,” Hung says.

He pauses to think.

“Or, I don’t know if it’s because they love me so much, or they’re trying to invest in me so I don’t fuck up their scene,” he says.

But it was Milestone of Rock Force Crew, 5150, and Hung Dynasty who first suggested not only tolerating and humoring Hung, but harnessing his abilities and appeal. For the first time, a legitimate b-boy was wanting to battle with Hung, rather than against him.

The story goes that ProfoWon, Rob Nasty, Milestone, and Flexum were trying to find a fifth member for their crew for Diamond Studded Bullets. They needed a powerhead, and Nasty Ray was unavailable.

One moment, ProfoWon was rejecting Milestone’s suggestion to have Hung be the fifth member. The next moment, ProfoWon found that he had been outvoted.

It was settled. Hung would be battling with them against the likes of Flexible Flav, Renegades, Head Hunters, and Illest Villains.

“I don’t care about winning, but I don’t wanna look stupid. It was like, we’ll do regular commandos that we do, and Hung will be like Godzilla in a box,” ProfoWon says. “But we actually got to the semis. Everyone screamed for him. We’d do serious commandos and he’d do whatever it is he does. And it kind of worked.”

But, like Jimmy Castor once sang, it had just begun.

If someone were to try and compile a list of the world’s “legitimate” b-boys, chances are that Hella Hung probably wouldn’t be on that list.

Hung’s okay with that, though. He probably wouldn’t put himself on that list either.

In fact, he doesn’t even consider himself to be a b-boy yet – though he probably knows more about what it means to be a true b-boy than most so-called b-boys today.

It’s the fruit of the labors of ProfoWon and Rob Nasty, who put their reputations on the line and took it upon themselves to take Hung under their wing and teach him the fundamentals of b-boyism – meaning everything from the physical movements to the very history and significance of the culture.

“We take b-boying seriously because it’s our art and craft,” ProfoWon says. “Even for me, b-boying is more like a spiritual type thing than anything else. Ultimately, the zen philosophy of martial arts is to never kill someone. You have to know how to kill without killing him. The only thing I’m doing is killing your ego. No one leaves physically hurt. It builds up character. Battling is like, you might not like the other guy you’re battling, but you’re going to respect the moves. You start to carry rapport with even your enemies.

“So maybe Hung’s attracted because we treat it like a spiritual thing – like a martial art,” ProfoWon continues. “You train, you think, you feel. Everything comes with not hurting anybody physically.”

For Hung, it’s become an exhaustive study of b-boying that seems to potentially take precedence over his classes at CCSF – and definitely over the martial arts classes that he quit once he began his immersion into hip-hop culture.

He says that he’s learned that the difference between a “b-boy” and a “break-dancer” goes far beyond a matter of dancing on beat and having style.

“To be a real b-boy, you gotta, number one, know the history,” Hung says. “A b-boy is like a very educated scholar. If b-boying was like a degree, then the b-boy is like the Ph.D. You understand the feel of it. You know the name of every move, inside and out.”

Hung could probably talk about the nature of b-boying for a long time. He can – and does – talk for hours about keeping b-boying underground, researching the newest graffiti cats, and fighting the trend of poser gangstas.

“Battling Hung is like battling someone who doesn’t know how to lose. It kind of sucks when you battle someone who doesn’t even know they’re losing.”

“He’s really, really trying to be a b-boy,” ProfoWon explains. “We don’t even call him a b-boy. We use the term ‘break-dance entertainment.’ That way, he’s not insulting b-boys. He’s trying to learn about b-boying, but he’s really – he’s really entertainment to watch.”

And it’s Hung’s willingness to ask questions, soak in information, and doggedly persist that has allowed him to associate with respected b-boys who teach him, mentor him, spend time with him, and even battle with him.

But that doesn’t mean it’s always easy.

“This guy’s a good guy. He’s got a good heart,” ProfoWon says. “He’s just not all there.”

By “not all there,” ProfoWon means that Hung’s brain works a little differently than those of most other people. Meaning what might take someone else five minutes to learn might take Hung two hours to understand. Meaning it’s a little difficult for Hung to pick up on sarcasm sometimes.

Hung himself admits that it took him over a year to understand and accept that toning down his gut would actually help him with his dancing rather than just making him sexier.

“For me to absorb anything new, you have to sit me down and slowly explain it to me bit by bit and piece by piece and watch everything I do,” Hung says.

But it’s a method of training that seems to be working for Hung, who often misunderstands the motivations of the crowd’s responses to his dancing, clothes, and antics.

“This is the thing,” ProfoWon explains. “He’s not joking around. It’s serious. He thinks, ‘If I dress up like a Ninja Turtle, it’ll be tight, and everyone will think it’ll be tight.’ He doesn’t think he’s misinterpreting it. If that’s someone’s first impression of b-boying, they’re like, ‘Nah.’

“Battling Hung is like battling someone who doesn’t know how to lose,” ProfoWon continues. “It kind of sucks when you battle someone who doesn’t even know they’re losing.”

ProfoWon says he suspects that Hung may suffer from autism or a condition where his brain doesn’t properly inhibit his R-complex – a part of the brain that is said to spur rage, xenophobia, and basic survival fight-or-flight instincts – that may lead Hung to be unpredictable and impulsive.

“Maybe he’s just an idiot,” ProfoWon speculates.

But rather than blowing Hung off and clowning him behind his back, ProfoWon and Rob Nasty have taken him on as their own project of sorts, usually spending time with him at least once every other day. They teach him how to take care of himself – whether it’s turning down opportunities to do free shows when he could be getting paid, not dancing on surfaces where he might hurt himself, finishing the things he starts, or just staying focused while walking down the street.

And the “mentors” say they don’t just want to equip him so that he can perform in a cipher well – they want to teach him how to live well, whether it’s as a performer, a b-boy, or whatever.

“Every movie he watches, he says, ‘That’s the story of my life.’ Everything’s so epic and shit,” ProfoWon says. “Hung Van Lam, the story of your life is that you came from Vietnam and came to American and did crazy shit. It’s hard to compromise with him. We’re doing more than teaching him b-boying. We’re giving him behavioral therapy. We’re friends, but what we’re trying to do is trying to teach him how to behave well.

“It’s like, Hung, you’re like the ocean and we’re like the filters for people to drink you in,” ProfoWon continues. “You speak a different language and we translate for different people. That’s our job right now. It’s kinda crazy.”

Hip-hop has a history of having haters.

Whether it’s from critics, cops, competitors or the corporate media, there always has been and always will be somebody hating.

Hella Hung, of course, is no exception.

And though his story might initially appear to be a sugarcoated b-boy version of a The Miracle Worker-esque charity case narrative, then both he and his “mentors” will quickly let you know that it’s anything but. Lucky as he may be, having respected b-boys mentoring him, spreading his reputation and serving as his manager, that doesn’t exempt Hung from getting smacked around, having stuff thrown at him, and being the target of general shit-talking. His friends and “mentors” are his hardest critics.

“Ness said, ‘Why do you cheer for him? Why don’t you tell him he’s wack?’” ProfoWon recalls. “I said, ‘I tell him he’s wack in his face all the time.’”

It’s true. Hung admits that all the attention can sometimes make him big-headed, but his friends and b-boy colleagues are always there to burst his ego-bubble and bring him down to the real world.

“At first, I was kinda ignorant,” Hung says. “I thought I was the shit. People know me. I’m responsible for all this shit. But my friends said, ‘You ain’t shit. I’ll tell you why you ain’t shit – I’ll smoke you every time.’”

They call his style “happy yam yam.” They tell him he’s not on beat. They tell him he’s a big baby because he spits shit out of his mouth and because he doesn’t realize the harm he’s causing because he’s slightly retarded. They tell him he always looks like he’s listening to techno. They tell him he’s a joke. They tell him that his footwork is sloppy, his technique is shit, and his body is out of shape.

And they for sure let Hung know that many people are laughing at him, rather than cheering for him – giving him “oh”s not because he’s amazing, but because they’re surprised he gets up after crashing.

“They tell me, ‘You got blown up on YouTube by a bunch of idiots,’” Hung says. “‘Now you really want to be a b-boy? Here’s the thing. B-boying isn’t just about the dance. It’s about life. If you can succeed in this dance well, then you will succeed in life. It takes a lot of discipline and mental thought, and you don’t use a lot of your brain. You use a lot of your pelvic region, if anything.’ It got to a point where people wanted to kick my ass because they think I’m mocking the dance.”

But it’s just honesty and tough love, b-boy style, and because of the respected company he keeps, Hung has been able to go get respect at events like Freestyle Session and Might 4 and meet some of bboying’s most respected figures.

ProfoWon and Rob Nasty understand his struggles, Hung says, and know firsthand how b-boying can change lives, so they’re able to explain Hung and amp him up.

“So it’s like a love and hate relationship, me and my boys,” Hung says. “They’ll love me when I’m trying to learn and expand my mind. They hate me when I’m being ignorant and stubborn. The crowd knows me as Hella Hung, a joke, comedy, comic relief, whatever. But my friends are saying, ‘All this hate talk, don’t let it get to you. The more haters you have, the more popular you get.’”

And at the end of the day, Hung often stubbornly accepts the authoritative advice of his peers.

Though, ProfoWon insists, there’s a lot every b-boy and b-girl could learn from Hung as well.

Even the most talented b-boys who freestyle their runs usually have some idea of what moves they might do beforehand.

Hung, on the other hand, thinks about superheroes, wrestlers and video game fighting moves and sometimes ends up calling out other b-boys – on accident.

That was the case with his battle against Nasty Ray, anyway.

“I thought, what if I did the Lui Kang bicycle spin, do some Zulu spins, and somehow end in a freeze when I land,” Hung explains. “Just by chance, it was in front of Nasty Ray. When I freezed, I kinda pointed, and it happened that it was Nasty Ray. And Ray was like, ‘Fuck that, if he called me out, I gotta go out.’ We just went round for round.

“I took it more as a challenge,” Hung continues. “I had this attitude like, fuck this, I can beat any b-boy in the world. I actually thought I won. With technicality, in terms of moves and technique, Ray kicked my ass. In terms of pure energy, I had it. When I was battling him, he gave up a couple times. He walked away and people would push him back. For me, if you battle and walk away, you lost.”

It’s part of the reason why Hung’s friends and fans say he has heart. He literally can’t stop and won’t stop, and he consistently dances with intensity and energy, even if the dances themselves aren’t necessarily the best.

It’s also why Hung prefers ciphers over battles, though he does have an advantage of being able to go over 30 rounds against opponents who might only have four good runs.

“I’ve seen this guy go 40 rounds with someone before,” ProfoWon says. “He went 40 rounds with me, and before he battled me, he battled 40 rounds with someone else. His pain receptors aren’t really that functional. He’ll say, ‘Watch this!’ and throw himself down a hill or something.”

It’s a rare case that demonstrates Hung’s b-boy equivalent of mass production, where quantity takes priority over quality.

Hung says that his lack of b-boying ability forces him to rely on other incomplete dancing styles that make his responses to the music crazier than the typical b-boy’s.

“I’ll flip in the air and I’ll land,” Hung says. “And a lot b-boys, that’s what they call crashing. Maybe you just don’t understand my savage style. My mentors and others call it crashing style.”

It’s his infamous combination of suicides on places like his neck and hip combined with quick transitions into locking and popping segments that have helped solidify his reputation. That, and he straight up dances a lot.

“I just kept putting myself out there,” Hung says. “I did everything backwards. Regular b-boys wouldn’t have the balls to go out until they’re great. I went to a jam not knowing anything and just being straight raw, and I got a lotta love because I was just a raw motherfucker.

“What it is, is I have character,” Hung explains. “If the right music, right mood come out, I’m jiving. Most of the time when I go off, I just really go off. And that’s what I love about dancing. When you go off, shit goes off of you that you don’t really plan. Sometimes a lot of really amazing shit comes out. My intention is just to be a great performer.”

ProfoWon agrees.

“What makes a person wack is if they’re a wack person, not their moves,” ProfoWon says. “You can’t knock him for trying to learn. I’ll be like, ‘Dude, this is why this is not good.’ Wack guys are like, ‘I don’t need help from anybody.’ I’m not like, ‘Oh, I’ve been breaking this long, so fuck you.’

“This forgotten thing about b-boying is character,” ProfoWon continues. “Hung is like, all character, all heart, and zero technique. That’s the best way I can put it. He has more heart than like anyone I know. As far as having correct form, no. All these reputable OG guys love him because he doesn’t give a fuck. All the people who used to talk shit are like, ‘You were right all along.’ He’s just so honest with himself. He’s not trying to be anyone else – he’s just being himself. Which is just ‘80s television and clichéd movies. That’s what he is.

“I think it’s his heart. You can’t deny that no matter what. His soul is free. His mind and his body aren’t coordinated together. He’s the most giving person I know. If you’re cold, he’ll take off his coat. If you need a place to stay, he’ll say, ‘Stay at my house.’ He’ll help with rent. That’s Hung. Straight up. It’s almost like he could be a living Buddha,” ProfoWon concludes. “He’s a giving person and there’s certain things he’s hung up on. He’ll consider himself a performer before a b-boy and so we’re kind of giving him that dream.”

Legends become legends because their legacy is somehow remembered, and Hung certainly has left his mark on a number of people, places, and media.

There’s his little brother, B-boy Phat, who is already progressing and reaping the benefits of being ingrained in the culture. There’s Breakin Fridays, which continues to host between 15 and 25 people every week. There’s also a slew of Hung Dynasty troops which range in name and status from the Warriors to the All-Stars to the Elite VIP members.

And then there’s Hung’s upcoming DVD, produced by Rob Nasty, which is scheduled to be released sometime this summer.

Hung and ProfoWon are tightlipped about the title, but they do hint at footage of an interview in front of a live audience, as well as other crazy antics – like Hung climbing a tree and falling when the branch breaks, or Hung hanging out with skateboard legend Emerson “Animal” Chin, or Hung rolling down a huge parking lot without a shirt then jumping up and battling four guys (which, according to Hung, took four takes).

“It’s not gonna be just about breaking – it’s gonna be about Hung,” ProfoWon says. “This DVD will be different. B-boy or not, you’re gonna wanna have it. It’ll be one of those things like Bum Fights you just gotta have. We’re trying to make it like a production. It’s definitely something where Hung can have something to live his fantasies through. I’m kind of excited too.”

And Hung has other goals as well. He still wants to learn how to do proper windmills, among other moves. And though he’s still hesitant to commit to b-boying over being a performer, he says he wants to go on tour once the DVD is released. And not just for himself – he wants to be able to inspire people by showing them what he’s been able to accomplish.

“They’ll see me in my beginnings and see me press through,” Hung says. “People identify with me already. How does an ordinary guy with so much difficulty make something out of himself with determination? If you pursue what you want, God’s gonna find a way to give you what you want if you really want it.”

Certainly, people may already be familiar with – and maybe even inspired by – his story. His videos have received tens of thousands of hits worldwide, and ProfoWon says people from all three of the countries he visited last year were familiar with Hung.

“I never knew I’d be such a big name in the b-boy world,” Hung says. “I do it because I love it. Basically, everything in my life has been a blessing. It’s like a stepping stone on everything. Basically, everybody pretty much has a destiny. I can kill somebody on the dance floor and get up and shake their hand and I didn’t have to break a single bone, and I don’t injure anybody. B-boying is my niche. What I want is to be a great performer and to be a great performer is to be great at what you do.”

And again, the Hung Dynasty is still only getting started, and Hung has plenty of places to go and people to meet and battle in order to meet – and maybe surpass – his many names and reputations, whether it be Hung Van Lam or King Kong in a box.

“I think this will be the year that Hung Dynasty will blow up,” Hung says. “I want to do it like until I’m 80. I’m like a true master. I’m a raw motherfucker. I’m like Bruce Lee – I’ll never die.”

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“I’m not clinically tested, but my friends and my man tell me I have OCD because I can’t stop cleaning,” she says, laughing. “I have to have a clean environment.”

It might come as a surprise to fans of A-B-Girl – the same super-gangsta A-B-Girl who has had a reputation of roasting b-boys and b-girls alike worldwide for the past 11 years.

“I set goals with breaking. Part of it was, to be the illest, you have to practice and put it down hard. In order to blow up, you have to rep everywhere you go.”

Most b-boys and b-girls can remember the first time they saw A-B-Girl, whether it was on a video or at a battle, the same way they can remember the first time they saw b-boying. That moment of A-B-Girl-consciousness usually entails some kind of a “Damn, I didn’t know girls could move like that” vocalization followed by some kind of a silent, guilt-driven thought along the lines of “Damn, I need to practice more.”

So it can be hard to imagine A-B-Girl scrubbing a floor with anything other than powermoves.

Then again, it explains a lot. How else, other than with an abnormal attention to detail and a near-obsessive determination, would some short suburban Filipino kid with nicknames like Brattygail and Slavigail end up being one of the most respected and inspiring b-girls in the world?

“I put in a lot of time and effort and passion from the beginning,” A-B-Girl says. “I set goals with breaking. Part of it was, to be the illest, you have to practice and put it down hard. In order to blow up, you have to rep everywhere you go.”

Going hard. Keeping it clean. Cliché as they may sound, they’re values that A-B-Girl lives out every day, and it shows in everything from her passion to her goals – and her footwork.

A-B-Girl, known to friends and family as Abigail Pinili, was born on September 4, 1978 .

Growing up in the suburbs of New Jersey, she had little exposure to hip-hop, much less b-boying. However, she found her niche in house dancing – a dance that A-B-Girl says taught her how to battle in clubs by representing and rocking hard, regardless of the time, place, or opponent.

Over three years of battling in the house scene, A-B-Girl slowly gained insight into the underground hip-hop scene, eventually leading her to a New York club – then called Vinyl – where the Rock Steady Crew was battling. It was 1996, and A-B-Girl was 18.

“My friend introduced me, and [Crazy] Legs happened to start teaching,” A-B-Girl says. “I lucked out and fell into the hands of the right people.”

As fate would have it, it only made sense that Kinetic of the Arsonists would provide her with the quintessential name that would help define her identity for the next decade.

“At the time, I didn’t have a b-girl name and I was taught that people got their name for a reason in the breaking scene,” A-B-Girl recalls. “And I didn’t want to just come up with any name. And I heard ‘A-B-Girl,’ and I was like, ‘Oh shit, that made sense.’ I break. I’m a b-girl. My name is Abigail. And that’s pretty much it.”

But even with a picture-perfect entry into the b-boy and b-girl community, A-B-Girl still found herself on the grind, scraping up any free time and money she had and devoting it to practicing and buying gas and plane tickets.

Working fulltime at a Holiday Inn for four years while attending college fulltime at the County College of Morris in Randolph, she traveled to battles on the weekends to further her experience – and reputation.

“B-Boy Summit was the first event I went to,” A-B-Girl recalls. “I was starting to see how breaking was nationwide and worldwide. I wanted to be one of the illest. You have to travel, and that’s what I did. I didn’t want to get props just as a girl. Even battling in house clubs, I fucking brought it. I was kind of tomboyish growing up already. Not that you have to be a tomboy to be a good b-girl, but I brought it to people hard.”

Tomboy or not, now edging near the age of 30, it’s evident that A-B-Girl’s dedication to bringing it hard has paid off.

Her YouTube trailer from 2006 has been favorited over 1,000 times and viewed over 350,000 times, and her newest clip has brought her back into worldwide b-boy and b-girl consciousness.

She’s a 2008 recipient of the Rock Steady Crew’s Spy Award, an honor reserved for b-boys and b-girls with outstanding integrity, experience, innovation, and experience.

People from all over the world, both male and female, leave comments for her clips and on her MySpace praising her for everything from her inspirational story to her powermoves to her physical features.

A-B-Girl acknowledges her relative b-girl fame, but she shrugs it off as she attributes it to a facet of her personality and a matter of good timing.

“Um, okay, I’ll tell you this much. All that happening is not something I asked for. It just happened,” she says. “I’m just a friendly, charismatic kind of individual. I just befriended so many people in the scene. I didn’t really care for all the bullshit that went on. I was just one of those people who was cool with everybody.

“During the time when I first started coming up, girls weren’t doing what I was doing,” A-B-Girl continues. “Of b-girls, very, very few had the strength that I had. There wasn’t really girls around doing hard shit. I’ve always tried to humble myself. People always talk about ‘A-B-Girl, world renowned b-girl,’ but I always tell myself it’s not even like that. But I know I’ve been an influence worldwide.”

That influential reputation was tangibly manifested in a significant way in 2002, when A-B-Girl suddenly found that she had achieved professional international b-girl status, literally living off of dancing.

She was sponsored by Tribal. She was getting paid by Maxim and Bud Light to travel the world, dancing alongside Full Force’s Ronnie and Street Masters Crew’s Elmo, her b-boyfriend. Her travels were taking her across the globe, from Canada to Spain to Norway to Australia, and almost everywhere in between – including the Middle East.

On her 2002 tour, A-B-Girl found herself traveling across Afghanistan, Pakistan, and Kuwait performing with Kurtis Blow for the US Army, Navy, and Air Force. Because 9/11 had occurred only nine months earlier, high security measures required that she and the other performers be escorted everywhere.

“I loved doing what I was doing,” A-B-Girl says. “Being a part of the scene. What we’re doing reminds them of home. Even if you’re a white boy from the country, and if you bring hip-hop they’ll know that. I’d do it again.”

Successful as she’s been, A-B-Girl is still hungry for more.

Though grateful for the opportunity to live off of b-boying for years and travel around the world for free, A-B-Girl says she’s passionate about striving to accomplish new goals that have arisen.

“It’s a hustle kind of thing. You do you one gig one time, and the next second it’s over. It’s not a regular 9 to 5 with regular pay,” A-B-Girl says. “If I could live off breaking for years and years, I would do it. I’m always going to break, until my legs fall off. But as I get older, I realize I have to take care of priorities.”

The priorities to which A-B-Girl refers are the same types of goals anyone else might have: Regular work. Health insurance. Job stability. A family.

Oh, and maybe a prodigy.

“I still give myself a good two or three years. But if my kids would like to do it, I’d train my kids,” A-B-Girl says. “Or maybe some b-girl or b-boy that I can bring up from scratch and them wind up being someone nasty. Maybe I’ll be teaching or something too. I can see myself evolving the scene.”

And indeed, A-B-Girl has the authority to speak about influencing and being influenced by the scene after having paid dues worldwide since she first emerged over a decade ago.

Like Pete Rock and C.L. Smooth, she reminisces and about the memories she’s accumulated since the good ol’ days – back before the Internet was blowing up, back when heads scrambled to get their dirty hands on VHS tapes. Memories of rocking ciphers with Style Elements and HaviKoro when they were first emerging on the scene. Memories of representing with her crew – then Problemz Kru and Supernaturalz, now Domestic Apes – in ciphers all across the country, meeting b-boys and b-girls everywhere she went. And especially memories of her family getting to see her perform on TV, letting them see dancing as a sustainable vocational option.

Even from a sheer technical perspective, A-B-Girl says she has noticed that the dance itself has fluctuated with several waves of different influences, and she suspects that it will continue to change.

“I think that breaking has never stopped evolving,” A-B-Girl says. “It was more of a simple kind of new style in the ‘80s, and power moves come up, which were still ill. Our generation in the late ‘90s until now, around when I first started, California was blowing up and evolving the dance. The East Coast tradition never changed. Then Texas blew up, and that helped evolved the dance.

“If I know you and you are a b-boy, and if you practice hard and cipher, then I’ll respect you.”

“Then it started to go back in a way that people started getting sick of seeing all that, going back to keeping it traditional, which is now. Now you see people that are well-rounded in so many other aspects. People are gonna get sick of all that foundation. Next, people are gonna start doing crazy blow-up shit, but more well evolved.”

But past and future aside, there’s plenty to keep A-B-Girl preoccupied in the present.

After all, not all the changes taking place in the b-boy scene in the past 11 years have been positive ones. Take, for instance, the explosion in popularity of b-boy related shit-talking online, from which A-B-Girl tries to stay away – though she admits it’s interesting.

“Why you gonna put your business all out there online?” she says. “I hate seeing that shit at jams. People have big mouths nowadays. I just wanna see what you got on the floor. People who talk the most shit will come to shake your hands after the battle. Depending on what part of the country you’re at or whatever, some people don’t take that lightly. You can get smacked in your face. B-boys have a certain character, but that doesn’t mean you have to put up a front or be somebody else. You’re acting fake.

“I think it’s not even breaking. It’s anywhere you go. If I’ma talk shit, I’ll do it among my friends,” A-B-Girl continues, laughing. “I won’t be out there talking smack in front of everybody.

And then there’s that hot button issue about “selling out” – the question of whether b-boys and b-girls should compromise their talents for popular media forms that might not portray the artform accurately.

Take, for instance, Step Up 2 The Streets, which shows respected b-boys like Crumbs and K-Mel as street dancers who vandalize studios and attack rival dancers.

A-B-Girl argues that it’s all about respect. In fact, the only reason she wasn’t in that particular movie, she says, was because of scheduling conflicts.

“I recognize all the b-boys and b-girls in there, and that makes me happy,” she says. “If people I know and others know are getting the work, then they’re doing something they love and they’re doing something great. If I know you and you are a b-boy, and if you practice hard and cipher, then I’ll respect you.

“I think [critics] are just hating, I’m sorry,” A-B-Girl continues. “Breaking has evolved now. Overseas, in Korea and Europe, b-boys and b-girls and poppers and lockers get paid to teach from the government. Over here in America, it’s not that easy. There’s good and bad to it, but I see more good out of it. I wouldn’t want it to be exploited, but people are more educated now about not getting jerked and all that.”

Then again, as much as times are changing, some things never change, even in the versatile b-boy scene. As fresh as many b-girls are nowadays, females are still likely to be targets of what some might consider sexist behavior and comments in ciphers or battles.

As with everything else, A-B-Girl continues to take it in stride and focuses on her dancing and her goals, giving everything she has.

“It’s up to the girl how you’re gonna handle it,” A-B-Girl says. “Anybody’s fair game whether you’re a girl or guy, as long as they don’t touch you. You have to know how to handle it in a cipher or a competition. When people did that to me, I’d say, ‘Fuck that,’ and burn him right back. Don’t cry and don’t take so much offense unless it does effect you by touching you. A girl can easily clown a guy right back.”

But hating, shit-talking, and clowning aside, A-B-Girl still maintains a personal determination and passion to be the best by her own standards.

She practices at least four or five times a week at one of several practice spots across New Jersey and Queens.

“I’m a foundational b-girl, and I also have power and can also do style and hard shit,” she explains. “I’m not a trick kind of b-girl. I’m well rounded in everything else. Because I’m strong the way I practice, I practice power really hard. And I started with foundation.”

She pauses to think.

“I have hard moves. I don’t know how to describe it,” she concludes.

And years of sessioning, battling, and touring hasn’t slowed A-B-Girl from focusing in on her passion of dancing, whether it’s on or off the dance floor. She usually takes vitamins, eats healthily, stays hydrated and tells herself to do her stretches to keep her body in prime b-girling condition.

But then again, she plays as hard as she trains.

It’s not just her training that she keeps simple and clean – she carries the same mindset to her other hobbies and activities, whether it’s kicking it with her friends and family or with her two dwarf hamsters, Bill Murray and Carl Lewis.

“We keep it very simple,” she says. “We ain’t that old. We do it while we can.”

And occasionally, she admits, she does splurge. During her downtime on the weekends, she’ll probably be chilling with her friends or family, watching movies, or going out to eat.

“I do try to watch what I eat, but I do eat,” A-B-Girl admits. “Some days I eat whatever I want because I’m fat like that. I’m a little person but I’m a fat girl inside. Fried chicken, candy, cookies.”

But then again, even on weekends, maybe it’s that suspected OCD that pushes A-B-Girl to work a little overtime, still dancing at clubs or lounges.

And though being obsessively compulsive about anything carries some negative connotations, perhaps for A-B-Girl, it’s a blessing that gives her the drive to pursue what she loves. After all, at the end of the weekend, it always comes back to the same things: keeping things clean, dancing – and keeping her dancing clean.

“During the week, it’s all about breaking,” A-B-Girl says. “Practicing is my workout. When I work, I train. I don’t dillydally at practice. I train hard with my people. If you’re a true hardcore b-boy or a b-girl, it really is a break life.”

A-B-Girl sends shout-outs and thanks to Domestic Apes, Elmo from Street Masters, Problemz Kru, Supernaturalz, and Rock Steady Crew.

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