Stop Forcing Your Style

Why Forced Style Never Lands

You’ve seen it before—a dope dancer walks in, and suddenly half the class is copying their stank face, their little shoulder ticks, maybe even the exact same sweatpants. Look, I’ve been guilty. After my first House class with Cebo, I spent weeks trying to scrunch my nose like him on every groove. Told myself it would magically make my movement feel right. Spoiler: it looked forced and felt even worse.

The thing is, real style has nothing to do with borrowing swag. There’s a difference between inspiration and imitation. You can lift a groove’s flavor or a musical accent and play with it in your own way. But when you start gluing someone else’s quirks onto your own foundation, it winds up stiff. Watch any battle or showcase: the ones who stick in your mind are the folks who feel natural. Even if their lines get messy or their transitions aren’t perfect, you remember them because it’s 100% them.

Copying Moves Is Not Copying Style

Let’s get this straight: training combos from Keone, Lyle, or Ysabelle is not the same as developing your style. Technique can be borrowed and refined. But style? That’s your body, your musical choices, your personal roots. I see new dancers glued to YouTube, trying to bank every isol combo in popping or mimic a waacking flare exactly. They show up at session and—yeah—all the moves are there. But it’s like listening to someone do impressions instead of telling their own story.

There’s nothing wrong with learning from videos. Choreographers want you to push your technique, but the sauce is in the details you add or leave out. When I was grinding through Brian Green’s house drills, the magic didn’t kick in until I started connecting steps to the way I liked to bounce, or when I left a snare accent out because the music felt better that way in my body. You have to let moves pass through your own taste filter, not just paste on the next trend like a sticker.

Your Roots, Your Rhythm

The studio world tells us to "find our style" like it’s a scavenger hunt or a downloadable pack. Nope. You need to tap into what makes you move. Want to see authenticity? Go to a family party where someone’s older cousin can’t stop two-stepping. Or watch b-girls getting down at practice after hours—no sheets, no classes, just endless footwork and the music. Their movement is filled with the rhythms they grew up on, dances from home, playlists from middle school, random sports injuries—every weird detail bleeds in.

I’ve struggled with this, switching from all-out popping to more contemporary vibes and losing the bounce that made my freestyle feel like me. Just chasing TikTok trends, my stuff started to blend into everyone else’s. It took actual months back in the trenches—swapping battle footage with friends, jumping in cyphers where people called me out—for my own style to reappear.

What helped? Making space for the music I actually felt, not just what was hot. Setting aside the moves that never fit my body. Honestly, even ditching certain drills that my studio loved, just because they were killing my flow. Your best style doesn’t feel like performance. It feels like breathing.

Getting Comfortable With Awkward

Nobody wants to look weird. But your best moments in dance come from pushing past that zone where you feel a little exposed. Remember your first improv circle? Didn’t matter how clean your turns were, you felt awkward and raw. That’s good. You need that. The trick is not running back to the safety of other people’s moves every time you feel exposed.

Next time you’re working on style, film yourself doing a phrase three different ways: once exactly as taught, once adding your own musical change, and once with your favorite groove layered over it. Watch all three. The first will probably look fine but bland, the second will feel shaky, and the last—if you’re honest—is where your actual style creeps in. Keep refining that third version. That’s where the real work is.

My advice? Find your awkward. The stuff you’ve been told is "not how it’s supposed to look" can be the thing that makes your dancing yours. The best style is built on honesty—not just clean technique. No matter your level, you won’t get there by playing dress-up in someone else’s gear.