This is how they dance in Breaking Space — a ground-up programme that uses breaking to reach out to youth-at-risk. Here, there is no right or wrong way to dance. The aim is simply to help these youths — who often face rejections in school or at home — see the good in themselves and what they do. 

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“The idea here is to give you the freedom to explore. If you get penalised for doing the ‘wrong’ thing here then it defeats the purpose,” said Michael, 29, who started the programme two years ago with social service organisation Bethesda Care Services. 

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“Sometimes when you do the ‘wrong’ things, you might find something even more beautiful at the end of the tunnel and that gives you the confidence to take steps forward.”

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“School is quite restrictive,” said one of the boys. “Being here, you can do whatever you want and nobody will judge.” Another exclaimed: “School becomes an ‘L’ and here, we are ‘W’.” ‘L’ and ‘W’ are slang terms that stand for ‘Loss’ and ‘Win’. 

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Michael sees the purpose of his work. Yet he still feels a sense of frustration — breaking has never really been accepted by mainstream society as a legitimate activity. Historically born out of the margins in the South Bronx in New York City, breaking is largely associated with gang life and street violence. 

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Cut to Singapore. It came as no surprise when the police banned breaking in public areas in the early 1980s. In several of their crack-downs, dancers were arrested. More than 40 years later, this stigma against the breaking community has not changed much. Those who break are still marked out as an unwelcome source of tension on the streets. 

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“Every now and then, we will still get complaints by residents and be reported to the police for dancing in public spots,” said Michael, who lamented about how this stems from fear and ignorance from the majority towards the art form. 

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The truth is, breaking was created as a peaceful alternative to violence where disputes were resolved through dance battles, said Michael. He sees it as an outlet for youths to form self-identity in the face of oppression — to “find their own tribe” and create something that “they can call their own”. 

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In his view, these youths are not at risk of wrongdoing, but of being “left behind by society” as a result of income or educational inequality. He thinks the limitless possibilities in breaking show them that there can be “alternative pathways to success” and the world can be made sense of differently.

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Breaking Space is a core programme of Elevate The Streets — a subculture movement founded by Michael alongside a group of local breakers and hip-hop enthusiasts. It engages youths in street skills such as DJ-ing, graffiti and parkour through workshops and mentorships — the first of its kind in Singapore.

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Michael began the movement in 2019 after witnessing how breaking helped a fellow b-boy cope with mental health issues and the passing of his father. The story was later adapted into a theatre production dead was the body till I taught it how to move which he was the movement director for.

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It struck him that, more than just a hobby, breaking has the ability to connect people and support those who might need it the most. “If we’re able to do that, then a lot more subculture practitioners will see the true power of what it can bring.”

 

TAKING POSITIVE RISKS

 

Social worker Lim Cheng Kai, 30, was thrilled when Michael approached him. As a street dancer for half his life, he had always wanted to use breaking as an intervention tool in his work with youth-at-risk but had not been able to find the support he needed. 

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At Bethesda Care Services, he works with youths who face difficult situations such as chronic bullying in school, abuse at home, anger management issues and grief. But he found it challenging to reach many of them through traditional therapy such as counselling sessions. 

 

For it to work, it often takes ‘two hands to clap’ and it is easier if it is client-initiated, he said. But youth-at-risk are usually referred by either parents or their schools. “They see us as adults who don’t understand their world, they see us as not cool,” he said. “Half the time they don’t even want to be here. They don’t want to listen to us.”

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Using breaking works because youths like to take risks, he said, and the programme teaches them how to take risks for positive outcomes. These risks come in the form of dance moves such as handstand, backspin and baby freeze — a move where the dancer holds his body low above ground while balancing himself on his hands and head with his feet in the air.

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“One of the guys tried to do a baby freeze and strained his wrist. Instead of crying, he lay down, held his wrist and breathed. Another kid, who’s usually rowdy, kept quiet and asked if he was okay,” Michael recounted.

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As he watched over the boys, it was a moment that deserved affirmation. More than being able to achieve a dance move, it was the growth he saw in them that mattered — the bravery in dealing with pain and the care for a friend-in-need. 

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This was what he hoped to see when he started Breaking Space, which has worked with more than 10 youth-at-risk with the support of 12 volunteer mentors.