As the 2024 Paris Olympics approach their grand finale, there's a surprising twist that has both enthusiasts and critics talking: breaking, or breakdancing, has found its way into the Games. But here's the catch's€”breaking was pulled into the Olympics somewhat against its will. Originally, the World Dance Sport Federation (WDSF) had been pushing for ballroom dancing to be featured in the Games. However, due to repeated rejections of ballroom for being seen as outdated, the WDSF pivoted to breaking as a younger, fresher alternative. The problem? No one bothered to consult the breaking community.
Breaking, which emerged from the gritty streets of the Bronx in the 1970s, is an art form that thrives on its underground roots and creative rebellion. It's a dance style that has always been about self-expression and counter-culture, far removed from the polished, mainstream image of the Olympics. And yet, breaking was thrust into the limelight of the Games almost as a collateral outcome of the WDSF's failed ballroom campaign.
When the International Olympic Committee (IOC) accepted breaking for the 2018 World Youth Games, the breaking world was caught off guard. Many breakers were initially resistant, viewing this transition as a betrayal of their art form. High-profile b-boy Serouj Aprahamian even launched a petition denouncing the move as a misuse of breaking. Despite the backlash, the Olympics machine rolled on, and breakers like Rachael Gunn and Lowe Naplan found themselves juggling new roles as athletes, coaches, and officials.
As Paris 2024 unfolds, there's a mix of excitement and bemusement among the breaking community. Breakers such as Raygun (Rachael Gunn) and J Attack (Jeff Dunne) will compete for gold, but their participation is tinged with a sense of irony. Breaking's€™s unexpected Olympic debut feels like an imposition on a culture that never sought the validation of the mainstream sporting world.
The history of breaking is a testament to its resilience. After a brief period of commercial exploitation in the '80s, it saw a revival in the late '90s thanks to dedicated enthusiasts in marginalized communities. Yet, the Olympics's€™ embrace brings both opportunities and challenges. For some, the Games represent a chance to elevate the visibility of breaking, especially in places like Australia where it's still stigmatized. For others, it feels like an intrusion that risks diluting the very essence of what makes breaking unique.
Looking ahead, the future of breaking in the Olympics is uncertain. With the sport's€™s inclusion in Paris, the question remains whether it will continue to be a part of the Games or be phased out by the time the 2028 Los Angeles Olympics roll around. For now, as breaking steps into this global spotlight, it faces the challenge of staying true to its roots while navigating the complex world of Olympic competition.
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