Sunny Choi: 'Flying, floating, free – that’s how I feel breaking'

Flying. Floating. Free. That’s how I feel when I’m at my best when I’m breaking. In those moments when I can get into a flow state and just be, I cease to exist and become one with the music and energy. Yet, I’m also the most me – free of the expectations of society, free of my own judgment, free just to be me. I never would have imagined that this journey to being the best version of myself would be made possible through a dance that started in the streets of the Bronx in the 70s.

I grew up with childhood dreams of being in the Olympics, so it meant the world to me to be able to represent the birthplace of hip hop on stage at the Paris 2024 Olympic Games. What I realized was even more important to me that day was that I’d been searching my whole life for a way to escape reality. For the first time, I wanted to relish it. I no longer wanted to escape – I loved my life and the person I’d become. 

I was always that young girl with her nose in a book, constantly reading stories that would whisk me away to another world. I’d buy magazines not to read about other people, but to imagine being someone else. I’d flip through them like they were a picture book. I was always looking for a way to escape the pressures of society, all the while outwardly going through the motions of being a picture of success. I got straight As, excelled in gymnastics and piano, got into an Ivy League school, climbed the corporate ladder and was on my way to buying a home and settling down to hopefully start a family. 

I stumbled into breaking in college. That was the twist that I (nor anyone else) couldn’t have expected. What was it about this dance that kept me going? Why didn’t I quit breaking when it got hard? What could an art form from the streets teach me about life? Well, literally everything. Through breaking, I’ve learned to overcome my fear of failure and see life as a series of lessons. Better yet, I’ve learned to keep an open mind while doing so because sometimes, those mistakes become our greatest achievements. You can crash a move in breaking and turn it into something even better than the original. It’s the same with life – sometimes, one seemingly failed experience opens the door to an even greater opportunity.

Through breaking, I’ve learned the importance of community and that we don’t always have to do everything alone. By showing up and sharing with the people around me and, in turn, allowing myself to lean on and trust in others, I’ve grown alongside them. And what a beautiful journey it’s been. From never feeling like I fit in anywhere to feeling like I’m at home, breaking helped me find a place where not only do I feel valued but also feel like I can contribute in a meaningful way. 

Finally, I’ve come to learn that I am enough. Life can make us feel like we always need to be better. Have more. Achieve more. We need to be beautiful, rich, successful and happy. But what if we believed we were already enough and all that is just extra? I knew that to be able to show up at the Olympics and allow myself to be in the moment, I had to learn to quiet the critical voices in my head and let myself do what I knew how to do best. And while this was probably the most difficult of the lessons I learned on my road to the Olympics, it’s definitely the most important. 

If this resonates with you, I hope you read the following words with pride: I am worthy, I am enough and I deserve to be loved. With that, and a heart full of gratitude for what breaking has given me throughout the last 18 or so years, I hope you enjoy this special edition of Dazed.