Luwam Russom: “I didn’t win twice. This is my third time.”

It really means a lot to me because it feels like it was simply given to me. I started loving music videos when I was four years old and would copy the dances I saw in them. And when I look at old classmates and friends from school now, some of whom spent years searching for a hobby or something they were passionate about and never really found it, I feel even more grateful that my passion somehow just fell into my lap.

Definitely. Dance has demanded a lot from me, especially once I turned it into my profession. I quickly realised that I had to be the person kicking those doors down. As a Black woman in this industry, and then on top of that coming from Hip-Hop, there was never really a space for me. I realised that very quickly, and at some point I made it my mission to kick those doors down so things might be a little easier for the next generation. Today, you see much more Hip-Hop on stages, but back then, it simply wasn’t there.

Definitely. Dance has demanded a lot from me, especially once I turned it into my profession. I quickly realised that I had to be the person kicking those doors down. As a Black woman in this industry, and then on top of that coming from Hip-Hop, there was never really a space for me. I realised that very quickly, and at some point I made it my mission to kick those doors down so things might be a little easier for the next generation. Today, you see much more Hip-Hop on stages, but back then, it simply wasn’t there.

The love of music. That has always been the essence of it for me, and I still carry that with me today. Whether I’m feeling bad or feeling good, I love being by myself, especially within my own four walls, just moving freely and enjoying the music.

For a while, I actually lost that spark because of all the work around it. But over the years, I found my way back to it by constantly reminding myself why I’m doing all of this in the first place. And then I think about little Luwam in front of the TV, copying all those music videos.

One of the reasons I’m so incredibly grateful for Hip-Hop is that the community has always given me a space, regardless of where I come from, what I look like, whether I was bigger or thinner. I was able to really express myself there in a way I never could at school, where everything was essentially about performance and achievement.

From a very young age, I also compared myself almost exclusively to men and competed with them. Of course, a lot of them underestimated me. But I always turned it into a game and flipped the situation in my favour. At the same time, some of the confidence that a lot of men bring into this game rubbed off on me. I learned a lot from watching them.

Sometimes you have to be loud to get things. And especially as a woman, you have to be twice as loud. That’s also why I used to train like crazy, so no one could ever question what I was capable of.

And that’s exactly what I want to pass on to my female students today: I want them to become confident women who stand up for themselves and know what they’re capable of. That’s something I carry into my private life as well.

I’ve always been someone with strong principles and clear values, and I would never throw those overboard. Of course, I get really frustrated in moments when I’ve had to be bolder or louder than I wanted to be. I take those situations home with me, reflect on them and try to ground myself again and return to my principles.

I’ve always promised myself that I would do better than the person who may have just treated me unfairly. Because for me, things ultimately have to be fair. And if other people choose to play unfairly, that always says more about them than it does about me.

A lot changes. When it comes to projects, I actually find women much more meticulous and, by now, often much more hardworking. They’ll go over things that take extra time, just to make sure everything is perfect. I feel like I can trust women more and rely on the fact that everything will work out in the end.

There’s also a completely different level of awareness and a different kind of empathy, especially in stressful situations. I just feel incredibly empowered when I’m surrounded by women. It feels much more like being one unit than it does when, for example, there are men involved in the project as well.

I realised pretty early on that something had to change, whether for myself or for the next generation. Back then, every door was closed to me because I was considered “too Hip-Hop.” Hip-Hop simply didn’t really exist in the commercial world. At the same time, I didn’t fit the image physically either. I was too Black, too loud, and my personality was too much. So it just never really worked for me.

That’s why I knew relatively early on that I had to change something. I had to stop complaining and start building my own doors. I wanted to show people that there was another way and that there was space for us.

That’s how choreographing came into my life, followed by movement directing. And it’s also exactly why I founded my own agency, which is rooted about 90 percent in Hip-Hop and urban culture.

I think there are two Luwams. There’s one Luwam who is completely in control when it comes to anything related to dance. She can lead a workshop in front of 2,000 people and is an absolute show-off the second she steps onto a stage. But then there’s also a very private, very quiet Luwam who, even if it doesn’t happen often, can sometimes be insecure.

If I hadn’t had dance in my life, I think I would still be a very introverted person today. Dancing has played an enormous part in making me the person I am.

It doesn’t really make much of a difference to me because I would dance and perform completely differently depending on whether I’m in front of a jury or an audience. When I’m performing for an audience, I naturally make sure to bring the crowd into my dance. I want to make what I’m doing more accessible to the regular eye and, of course, entertain people.

I would never do the same thing in a battle with a highly qualified jury sitting in front of me, because there it’s really about your performance and your technique.

The planning disappears, of course, but you still have control. You’ve spent 15 years training your body. Whatever music comes on, you’re basically prepared for anything. Freestyling, really purely freestyling to any song you’re given, shouldn’t be a problem if you know how to move your body.

When you’ve trained that hard, not knowing what music is coming next is never really going to be an obstacle.

It’s a phenomenon you really have to experience for yourself. I like to compare it to a big party. Sometimes someone does a move and suddenly all your friends start doing it too. Those moments can happen completely naturally. But sometimes you also create them very deliberately because you know people are going to react and join in because it’s something they can identify with.

But the rest of your performance has to remain open enough for that interaction to happen. I couldn’t dance entirely for myself for 20 seconds and then suddenly turn to the crowd. I build my round like a story, and through that, I invite people into my world and into my dance.

It gives our culture visibility. People who work in offices or, for example, flight attendants watch all these battle rounds and have become genuine fans of the format. They’re often surprised that Germany has this kind of talent because they’re more used to associating this style of dance and this scene with the US.

So I’m always happy when people outside our bubble discover our community. That’s incredibly important to me. In every sport, you have big stars and personalities who represent it. Dance still lacks that kind of visibility. And yet there are so many incredible dancers who deserve far more attention and recognition.

For this year’s World Final, I’m going to do everything I can to make sure I never lose the fun of it and that I’m no longer doing it for my career, but simply for myself. I’m going to approach it exactly as I did the National Final and take all the pressure off myself.

I’ve been dancing for more than 20 years now, I’ve already achieved quite a lot, and I don’t need to prove myself for the twentieth time. Maybe to myself, but that’s it. So I just want to try to enjoy every single second I get to spend on that stage.

That it’s fucking cool to be different and to know that you can achieve anything. I want to be someone in their lives they can hold on to, someone who shows them that anything is possible. I want them to trust that I’ll keep doing everything I can to kick down doors and open new paths so that things might be a little easier for them one day.

And I want to show them that you can get very far with a positive personality and good values without having to become a shitty person along the way.

And that, really, no one can tell you shit.

Absolutely. After a dance session, I almost always feel better and more balanced. In a way, dancing is a kind of therapy for me. Sometimes I go into training with negative thoughts, dance a round, and already feel so much lighter afterwards.

And there’s another incredible phenomenon that sometimes happens when I’m dancing in a battle: I enter this kind of trance. I’m so deeply in the moment that I completely block out everything around me, even the audience. I dance my round, come out of it afterwards and sometimes don’t even remember exactly what I just did.

Those are the moments that probably only freestylers can truly understand. It’s an incredibly beautiful feeling, but at the same time it’s difficult to control and almost impossible to put into words.