Breakdancing Is Now an Olympic Sport, But the Hip-Hop Community of Paris Is Skeptical

20.07.2024 - 11:03 / cntraveler.com

This story about breakdancing in Paris is part of How Paris Moves, a series of dispatches about communities and social change in France through the lens of the 2024 Summer Olympics.

On a cloudy Saturday in June, in the Riquet neighborhood of Paris, a battle is beginning. As over six hundred spectators watch, two people step forward in a cavernous space as music soars all around us, orchestrated by a live band and a DJ mixing together Afro-Latin beats. Before the crowd, a young b-boy breakdances with moves at once sharp and smooth. Across from him, a woman wields her skirt as she dances the salsa, her movements growing faster with the music. They excite the audience composed of eager teenagers, families with children, and fellow dancers awaiting their turns to perform, who applaud as the dancers interpret the music with their own individual styles. The scene is vibrant and welcoming, positively electric. It’s a competition, yes—but it’s first and foremost a community.

This is the Centquatre-Paris, an expansive multipurpose cultural center in the heart of the 19th arrondissement. As host to practitioners and audiences of wide-ranging art forms (dance being just one of many), it offers public performances, concerts, workshops, talks, exhibitions, and festivals throughout the year. The building dates back to the 19th century—for over 120 years, it was home to Paris’s municipal undertakers until the industry’s privatization in the mid-1990s—and has been a designated historic monument since 1997. In 2003, the office of the Mayor of Paris tasked an architecture firm, Atelier Novembre, with the space’s renovation into an artistic space, as proposed by Centquatre’s current director, José-Manuel Gonçalvès.

When it opened in 2008, some critics saw the center as a symbol of gentrification, a temple dedicated to sifting “legitimate art” from more community-led forms of artistic performance. But soon enough, dancers from various backgrounds began to use the space for practicing and rehearsals. Access to Centquatre’s public spaces is free, there’s about 269,000 square feet of usable space, and the many large windows let in copious amounts of natural light. Most importantly, the center welcomes art in all its forms. During my visit to Centquatre, I see people of all types practicing: tap dancers, voguers, roller derby players, jugglers—and of course, b-boys and b-girls, whom I have come to meet.

I approach a group of dancers focused on their steps. They’re a diverse bunch, in age, race, and gender, all friendly with each other despite their differences. Among them, 16-year-old Mathis is breakdancing on the floor. Tan with tight curls, his pronounced height is betrayed by his voice, crackling with puberty.

“We