How many times have you seen performers on your walk through the Times Square subway station? The spectacle can include Silver-painted men, singer-songwriters strumming the guitar, or even the increasingly rare barbershop quartet. Sometimes these performers are dancers, and more times than not they’re forgettable. But one ride a few months ago on the downtown 1 train changed my perspective.
Entering a subway car at the Columbia University 116th Street stop, my friend and I came upon a troupe of rambunctious eight-year-old boys. When the train pulled away from the station, the boys started clapping and stomping out mock drum rhythms, and each took a turn showing off his hip-hop moves. One youngster gyrated his hips semi-inappropriately, to a personal chant of “Butta, Butta, Butta on my bagel” by the other boys. I was intrigued.
On a recent Saturday evening, I went to see Groovaloo at the Joyce Theater on Eighth Avenue. Groovaloo is a hip-hop dance show with both choreographed and freestyle components. Its 14 dancers, or “Groovaloos,” boast resumes touting national and international competitions and collaborations with prominent musical acts. The performers’ real life struggles to become successful break-dancers mirror those of the characters they play.
One Groovaloo came home every night to feuding parents and found an escape in hip-hop, while another began as a classically trained ballerina fearful of taking a turn in the b-boy circle. Summoning her strength and accepting the encouragement of her peers, she finally wowed everyone with a killer freeze—legs suspended in mid-air, and her entire body supported by two arms planted on the stage.
Hip-hop has historically been an artistic, violence-free way to impress others and gain local respect. It emerged in the Bronx of the ’70s, with freestyle as its core. The spontaneous battle elements of dance and rap pitted competitors in a circle of onlookers ready to “ooh” and ”ahh” at every playful lyric or fierce dance combination.
Like street hip-hop, which involves much improvisation, one Groovaloo mentioned that it can be rewarding to turn mistakes in the routine into designed moves. Indeed, the dance circle remains a competitive yet ultimately encouraging space, designed as a stage.
So why did those kids dancing on the subway stick with me so much? They weren’t asking for money, nor were they concerned with the other passengers on the train. They were simply interested in supporting each other’s few minutes of fame, their time to show off, have fun, and impress their peers. It was endearing. I wonder what their stories will evolve to be? Maybe “Butta” will grow up to perform on New York City stages, a breaker extraordinaire drawing from his days dancing on subway cars with his buddies. How exciting to think that I may have witnessed the making of future b-boys.
Mollie Lobl is a Barnard College junior majoring in anthropology.
West Side Dance Story runs alternate Fridays.
Comments
We're looking for comments that are interesting and substantial. If your comments are excessively self-promotional or obnoxious you will be banned from commenting. Consult the comment FAQ and legal terms.