What It’s Like To … Be a Competitive Breakdancer in Kenya

Today, Kare, 24, is one of the few visible b-girls in Kenya's breaking or breakdancing scene. The space is still predominantly male, but her presence is helping to shift that. Through hard work and consistency, she has made her way into competitive circles and international events.

"I couldn't even do one push-up when I started," she says. "But I kept going because I wanted to be that girl spinning on her head."

Kare: Dance is my way of expressing myself. I was an introvert growing up. But once I started dancing, I found my voice. I found my people. I've been breaking since 2020. Before that, I danced in church and later tried dancehall, but I eventually got tired of it. Then I met some breakdancers and I really wanted to know what that feels like. From that moment, I never looked back.

I mainly joined out of curiosity. My first class was challenging. I arrived late, and some little kids were already flipping. But the coach was nice and encouraging.

Now, five years later, I'm part of a group called Halisi Breakin. I'm one of two girls. We train at our community center from Monday to Saturday, 9 a.m. to 2 p.m. What drew me in was seeing that there weren't many girls doing it. I thought it would be so cool to see a woman doing headspins, handstands, and backflips. I wanted to be that girl.

The breaking scene in Kenya is way bigger than people think. In Nairobi, there are strong communities in areas like Kibera, Kangemi, Kayole, and Dandora. Outside Nairobi, you'll find scenes in Nakuru and Mombasa. Each year, all these dancers come together for the Kenyan Breaking Championship, held at Alliance Française. More than 500 breakers participate in a week of workshops that culminate in fierce battles. This past November, I won the competition.

The community is super welcoming. Whether you know just one move or none at all, you're accepted. That's what makes it beautiful. Breaking is a sport, and you have to understand the basics. But everyone starts somewhere. If you're interested, simply show up. Every area has community classes, and people are happy to guide you.

But it's also tough. Really tough. It took me five years to reach a level where I could compete. When I started, I couldn't even do one push-up. I was very weak. So I had to push myself hard. I started running, going to the gym, arriving early to practice, and taking extra classes. Since there weren't many girls to compete with, I had to match the level of the guys.

I was supposed to attend a qualifier for the Olympics, but my passport was delayed. So I had to give up my spot. Still, it was amazing to see breaking included in the Games. When it was removed from the 2028 Los Angeles Olympics, it drew more attention to the sport. People started asking why, and that curiosity helped raise awareness.

I remember when Raygun, the Australian competitor, went viral at the Olympics. I don't understand why people hated on her. In breaking, you're not supposed to look like anyone else. If you do, that's called biting. She was having fun and showing her personality. That's precisely what breaking is about, and I thought she was really cool.

For me, breaking is about being original. I used to watch a lot of battles in the U.S., and people here would start copying that style. However, I now see more African dancers incorporating traditional moves. It's going to be amazing when we're breaking using African rhythms and movements. Everyone has their way of moving. You can be given the same move, but each of us will interpret it in our own way. That's what makes it real.

People can build careers in dancing. Many dancers earn money by teaching private classes, working in schools, or performing in theater productions. I'm also learning film and graphic design to expand my options.

Last year was rough, though. I almost quit. It felt like too much. People started saying I was only being picked for competitions because I'm a woman, not because I was good. That really hurt, especially with how hard I'd been training. I needed to step away for a while.

But I'm still here. Breaking has given me opportunities to travel. I've competed in Tanzania and Brazil, worked with Red Bull, and now I'm building a support group for Kenyan b-girls so none of us feel left out.

I hope that breaking is as recognized as football one day. I believe it can be both a cultural movement and a sport. Dance gives me freedom. It's like being a voice for the voiceless. When I'm competing, it's just me.