In 1966, the New York Times Magazine first introduced the world to the term “model minority.” It was meant as a backhanded compliment to Japanese Americans. The theory explained how the Japanese could adapt to American culture and society while avoiding the usual pitfalls of other immigrants – namely, black and Hispanic people.

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.