After the Rodney King riots, Tommy Johnson craved Black unity across LA. Johnson’s hip-hop clown routine at community parties quickly became a citywide sensation. As Johnson’s clowning gained popularity, it created another dance form: krumping. Led by dancers like Lil’ C and Ceasare “Tight Eyez” Willis, krumping was a more raw, aggressive side of clowning.
Krumping offered dancers an embodied escape. Some even compared it to the release found in the praise dances at church. Krump stands for: “Kingdom Radically Uplifted Mighty Praise.” Krump’s “uplift” could be seen in dancers who, in their exhaustion, ascended to another spiritual level. Krump dancer Mamu Tshi stated, “I see in krump a desire to communicate with God.”
This spiritual uplift, paired with Krumping’s energetic, jerky movements and cold-eyed facial expressions have been compared to movements in traditional voodoo rituals and spirit possession.
These dances and rituals traveled with our enslaved ancestors, preserved as a form of resistance. Every arm flail and pelvic thrust was a declaration: “We’re still here.”
Systems like capitalism depend on us feeling estranged from our bodies, and putting us on autopilot. Black dance forms like krumping invite us to be present in our bodies, a distinct reminder of what it feels to be Black and free. Nothing is more sacred than that.