My earliest memories are vividly etched with the Miami sun blazing down as my friends, cousins, and I huddled around a boombox. We were kids fueled by mixtapes and the irresistible urge to move. It only took that one perfect song to ignite our dancing frenzy.
In our youthful exuberance, we’d showcase the latest dance crazes gleaned from movies and music videos. The iconic Kid ‘n Play dance, the gravity-defying moonwalk, the rhythmic stomp-and-grind, and of course, The Running Man Dance – these were our go-to moves. We even experimented with our own versions of what is now known as twerking. Each dance was an opportunity to add our personal flair, a playful attempt to outdo each other, but mostly just to share laughter and joy. This was my initiation into dance – dance as pure, unadulterated play.
Dancer Jamar Roberts performing in Talley Beatty's Stack-Up, highlighting movements reminiscent of the running man dance. Paul Kolnik photo.
Dance was deeply embedded in the culture I grew up in. It was a space where freedom of expression and body autonomy were celebrated, especially when your favorite beat dropped. Even as a child, I understood dance’s potent ability to sharpen focus, liberate the body, elevate the spirit, and unite people.
For me, dance is instinctive. I feel most authentic and alive when I’m dancing. It’s a realm of unfiltered honesty and boundless imagination. Dance is my playground, and music remains my closest companion, just as it always has been.
