Breaking into the Olympics: How a Street Art Form Found Its Way to the Games

Breaking into the Olympics: How a Street Art Form Found Its Way to the Games

Breaking, an art form born on the streets, thrives on underground dance battles, boundless creativity, and the spirit of those who often feel like outsiders. Despite being dismissed by many as a "stale joke from the '80s," it stands as the antithesis of what the Olympics traditionally represents.

Yet, without the consent or even the awareness of its community, breaking found its way into the Olympics almost by accident.

The World Dance Sport Federation (WDSF) had long campaigned for ballroom dancing to be included in the Olympic Games. But when the ballroom was deemed too "outdated," the WDSF pivoted to breaking, offering it as a youthful alternative. However, this decision was made without consulting the breakers themselves. While some in the breaking community resisted this "Olympification" of their art, others were swayed by the potential benefits the Games could bring. But ultimately, the Olympic machine is so powerful that it bulldozed any opposition.

In response, breakers around the world scrambled to establish qualifiers and federations. In Australia, accomplished dancers had to quickly adapt to new roles, with some becoming sporting officials. Olympic breaker Rachael Gunn, PhD, transitioned into the role of an athlete, while her husband, also a talented breaker, became her coach. Another top dancer, Lowe Naplan, took on the role of an administrator out of necessity, saying, "I never really thought of [breaking] as a sport … it will always be a culture and an art form first."

As the Paris Games approached, Sydney’s Raygun (Gunn, 36) and northern NSW’s J Attack (Jeff Dunne, 16) prepared to compete for gold. But beneath the surface, there was a sense of bemusement within a subculture that may be too cool for the Olympic spotlight.

Breaking originated in the Bronx during the height of disco in the 1970s, within a marginalized community. Its mainstream appropriation in the 1980s, through films like *Flashdance* and *Electric Boogaloo*, nearly killed the art form, except for the most dedicated hip-hop artists.

In the late 1990s, the arrival of music videos like Bomfunk MC’s "Freestyler" sparked a resurgence in Australia, primarily among marginalized communities. Veteran breakers from the '80s taught a new generation, with crews holding intense dance battles. "Knowledge was kind of kept within crews," Gunn explained, emphasizing the competitive edge this secrecy provided.

Breaking was always a culture, with b-boys and b-girls seeing themselves as artists, not athletes. That changed when the Olympics came knocking.

Meanwhile, as breaking evolved in the Bronx, ballroom dancing was struggling to make it into the Olympics as a dance sport, a category that also includes forms like rock'n'roll and Latin dance. In 1997, ballroom dancing achieved recognition as a sport by the IOC, but progress stalled.

By 2014, the WDSF enlisted Jean-Laurent Bourquin, an IOC veteran, to lobby for the inclusion of ballrooms in the Olympics. But Bourquin recognized that ballroom was a lost cause. The Olympic movement was concerned about engaging younger audiences, and the ballroom was seen as outdated. Bourquin saw breaking as the only viable option and convinced the WDSF to shift focus, despite the federation’s lack of authority over the breaking community—a realization Bourquin came to too late.

Breaking debuted at the 2018 World Youth Games, blindsiding the breaking community. The art form had been transformed into an Olympic sport without the community's input. High-profile b-boy Serouj Aprahamian launched a petition accusing the WDSF of using breaking as a Trojan horse to get ballroom into the Olympics, calling the move "immoral, illogical, and insulting."

However, Bourquin managed to convince other prominent breakers to help design a judging system that included the world's best on the panel, akin to having soccer legends like Ronaldo and Messi as referees for a new youth tournament. Gradually, parts of the breaking community warmed to the idea. Paris organizers were enthusiastic, as breaking is popular in France, leading to its acceptance as a sport for the 2024 Games.

The WDSF denies accusations of exploiting breaking. Tony Tilenni, the Australian vice president, views the Olympics as the pinnacle of athletic achievement, arguing, "If you can accept that for diving, for soccer and football, why wouldn’t breakers want that as well?"

In Australia, the breaking community took a pragmatic approach. "It was like, ‘Well this is in [the Olympics] now,’" Gunn said. "So we’d better make sure that we’re not being misrepresented." There was a strong concern about avoiding the mistakes of the 1980s when Breaking's narrative was co-opted, erasing much of its culture and history. Ensuring a seat at the table, despite the unexpected turn of events, became a priority.

Australian breakers had to quickly adapt to the Olympic rules, establishing a federation and choosing between competing as athletes or taking on official roles. Gunn’s husband, Free, who could have competed at the Games, chose to support the movement by becoming an official, as few others were willing to take on these crucial roles.

For some athletes, training for the Olympics has been a lifelong pursuit. Gunn’s Olympic journey began five years ago as an unexpected twist, and now she proudly represents Australia, donning green and gold, and participating in the opening ceremony.

However, her Olympic journey may end on August 10, as dance sport is not scheduled to feature in the Los Angeles Games. While the French embraced breaking, the Americans preferred other sports like lacrosse and squash. The future of breaking in the Brisbane Games remains uncertain, depending on how vigorously the WDSF advocates for it.

Despite the challenges, Gunn hopes the Olympics will bring positive changes to breaking. She envisions Australia, where breaking is still banned in primary schools, learning from how street dance is embraced in Europe and parts of Asia. She hopes the Games will inspire a new generation, dispelling the misconception that breaking is just a "stale joke from the ’80s."