National Post (National Edition)
IT'S BREAKING WELL FOR CANADA'S BEST IN YOUTH-CENTRIC SPORT
Canada's b-boys and b-girls will happily stand on their heads for medals in Paris, should they be so lucky, but the Olympics were never the goal.
So the Canadian breaking community sees the Games for the opportunities they could provide young people trying to carve a living out of a niche art form that is suddenly merging into the mainstream as a sport and debuting on its largest international stage.
“It' s kind of, like, mind-blowing to me,” said Emma Misak, a 20-year-old from Surrey, B.C. who competes as b-girl Emma. “Imagine one day you turn on the TV and you see a breaking battle. That's crazy to me. It would be a great opportunity, for sure.”
Surfing, skateboarding and sport climbing are there now, as part of the Tokyo 2021 program and the International Olympic Committee's wider goal of appealing to a younger demographic.
The breakers who will get their turn in 2024 — just 16 men and 16 women — are likely the 20-something b-boys and b-girls who can't quite make ends meet today, especially after the COVID-19 pandemic shut down most local, national and international competitions, which pay from hundreds to thousands of dollars in prize money.
“It is a difficult lifestyle to lead currently, and I'm hoping something like the Olympics would open up more opportunities for more people to earn more money, not only winning events but teaching and coaching,” said Philip Kim, a 23-year-old world-class breaker from Vancouver who competes as b-boy Phil Wizard.
“That's why we're excited for the prospect. It is difficult to make a living solely off of competing because oftentimes you only get paid if you win. Last year that's how I was making my living, off competing. But because of COVID that has completely shut down and I'm unable to make a living off of my dance that way. For now I've created a few online programs that teach people around the world, and I'm teaching in studio as well.”
Jayson Collantes is a 23-year-old breaker in Toronto, largely self-taught, though his brothers got him hooked on it. He competes internationally, but he's also a cook and is working on a one-hour stage show with Bboyizm, a Toronto-based street dance company. Breakers need options.
Their origin stories are similar, so too their perspectives. Hanging in like-minded crews with names like 7 Commandoz and Dreadnoughtz, they practise, perform and battle because the art form offers something unscripted, physically demanding and outside the main. The most dedicated among them practise five or six days a week, three or four hours a day, perfecting moves, building stamina and a style.
Misak's best move is a jackhammer, during which she hops on one hand in a complete circle.
“That took me a whole summer to get right, doing it every day. If you're going to learn jackhammer, you have to learn two foundational moves, the hand glide and a freeze.”
She practises in a basement studio during the winter and on the concrete pad of an outdoor skating rink in Vancouver in the summer. A smooth floor is a must to accommodate spins. A studio floor with some welcome give can mitigate the serious and almost inevitable wear and tear on shoulders, wrists, ankles and elbows.
“I'm trying my best not to get injured but it happens quite often because of what breaking is,” Kim said. “You're throwing yourself around. And because it's freestyle, sometimes you don't know which direction you're going to be going, you're just adapting as you go. It is very likely that you'll get a lot of injuries throughout your career.”
He hasn't broken any bones but he has sprained every finger, “which is kind of random,” he said, noting that they pop in and out all the time. He has also sprained shoulders, knees, ankles, wrists and elbows and was concussed when he hit his head trying a spin that ends when he throws himself onto his back.
After suffering several sprains and hyperextensions, Misak is more mindful of recovery time and preventive exercises — callisthenics, stretching and abdominal workouts — to increase core strength. They help her through a day of training on top rock, get downs, footwork, power moves and freezes, the elements that make up a formidable arsenal.
She has competed in Vancouver, Toronto, Hawaii, China, Japan, Taiwan, Portland and Seattle. Her mother is a flight attendant, so Misak can access cheap fares. When she wins, she takes home prize money, but the most she's ever won is $500. So she also teaches breaking, studies sport science at Douglas College in preparation for a career in physiotherapy, and dreams of going pro.
“Making it in breaking for me would be having a lot of different opportunities. We call it going pro, being invited to battles, competing and winning and basically making a living off breaking. Also, having opportunities to teach workshops.”
These are not the swimmers, gymnasts, sprinters or skaters we know much better, those who grew up with Olympic dreams driving them predictably forward.
“For them the Olympics have been around forever. For us this is just the introduction,” Kim said. “Yes, we are excited for it and maybe in the future it might be the case, like gymnasts, where there will be b-boys and b-girls whose hopes are, and the reason they started is, to go to the Olympics. Right now it's definitely just another opportunity and another event.”
The IOC's suits might flinch at that kind of description, but it's the prevailing wisdom in the breaking community.
“There are maybe a dozen or two dozen world-level events that happen every year,” said Geoff Reyes, a member of the breaking committee for Canada DanceSport, the national governing body. “The Olympics are just going to be a complement to that.”
BC One is widely recognized as breaking's most prestigious event. Sponsored by Red Bull, it was founded in 2004 as a b-boys-only competition, and Kim is the only Canadian b-boy ever invited. He has also won backto-back, one-on-one titles at The Notorious IBE, and is seen as a good bet to represent Canada in Paris.
“I think I have probably one of the best track records in terms of one-on-one competitions in the last few years,” Kim said. “Now, there is a lot of incredible talent in Canada, and I think a lot of people deserve that shot. I've represented at some of the biggest events in the world and I've won at some of the biggest events in the world, and other Canadians haven't. Regardless of what happens with the Olympics, this is what I do, this is what I love to do, so I'm going to keep doing it.”
A b-girls division was added to BC One in 2018, and the only Canadian b-girl to compete is Jackie Agudo, who competed as JK47 and has since moved to the U.S. Misak, who was mentored by Agudo, is now the top b-girl in Canada. She earned a silver medal at the Youth Olympics in 2018 in Buenos Aires in front of 30,000 spectators. She loved the vibe.
“The other athletes were eyeing down people. With breakers, we made friends right away; no tension. We're more like a community.”
While there might be two dozen elite-level male breakers in Canada, there is perhaps less than half that on the female side.
“There aren't a lot of b-girls in Canada, and a lot of them don't represent,” Misak said. “I represent a lot, meaning I go to a lot of battles, and represent myself to get my name out there. You don't see a lot of b-girls in Canada doing that.”
In one-on-one breaking competitions, or battles, the two competitors alternate performances for perhaps as many as four rounds, each about a minute in duration. According to Red Bull, there are eight judging criteria: musicality, foundation, difficulty of movement, character and personality, style, execution, originality and creativity, and the composition of rounds.
So there will be debates. Art form or sport, performer or athlete?
Jayson Collantes, a 23-year-old Toronto breaker, calls himself an athlete.
“There is an art form to this, but there is athleticism required for it. The things we do require a lot of physical demands. You do need to get yourself in shape.”
But is it a sport?
“I see it first and foremost as a dance and an art form, but there are sport-like aspects to it,” Kim said. “It is very physical. In comparison to most other dance or art forms it is probably the most physically demanding.
“It's just a label. If they call it a sport, they can call it a sport. I will defend what I think, but regardless, it's another great opportunity for us.”
It is one that Canadians of a certain vintage will understand. Misak's parents, for instance.
“At first they were a bit unsure but when I went to the Youth Olympics they kind of changed their mind and started believing in it more. They're really supportive. I'm really grateful.”
Kim's parents weren't easily convinced either when he told them he'd be pursuing breaking full time.
“My parents are pretty open-minded, but there is that traditional Asian mentality within them. They wanted me to go to school and pursue something that is more normal, I guess. Go to school, get a job, like what my brothers are doing. I can see where they're coming from. They want me to be secure,” Kim said.
“They definitely weren't stoked, but they have come more on board now as they have seen me gain success in what I do. It is up and down every day, and some days I still question whether I'm doing the right thing, but this is what I love to do.”
I'M TRYING MY BEST NOTTO GET INJURED BUT IT HAPPENS QUITE OFTEN BECAUSE OF WHAT BREAKING IS. YOU'RE THROWING YOURSELF AROUND.