Survival. Safety. Opportunities. These are the most common reasons why approximately 8 million Venezuelans have left their country since 2015. Yet, for a group of migrant breakers, the drive to leave goes beyond basic needs—they seek the recognition and opportunities that eluded them at home.

"I emigrated for art," says Alexander Roque, a B-Boy from Valencia, whom I met in December 2021 while walking through the streets of Cali, Colombia. Drawn to a group of young dancers showcasing their skills, I stopped to watch—but it was Roque’s words that truly caught my attention. I knew then that this was a story worth telling. That moment marked the beginning of my journey documenting the artistic and personal lives of these dancers.

Many of them started by performing at traffic lights, earning just enough to get by. Today, those same B-Boys and B-Girls compete in prestigious international events like the Red Bull BC One World Final 2024 in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, and lead cultural initiatives that uplift their communities, such as Risk Boys School, a breaking academy for children and teenagers in Cali, Colombia.

For these migrants, breaking has been more than just an art form—it has become a lifeline, a way to carve out opportunities that were unavailable in Venezuela. “We had no chance to grow as breakers back home, so we left with breaking as our companion. Thanks to it, I even found a family: I’m married to another dancer, a Brazilian B-Girl, and we have a beautiful 2-year-old child,” says Luis Alfredo Mercano, B-Boy ‘Humble’, who now lives in Manaus, Brazil.

At its core, migration is about crossing boundaries—geographical, cultural, and personal—in search of something greater. This mirrors the global movement of breaking itself.

Born in the Bronx’s streets of New York in the late 1960s, breaking evolved from an act of resistance into a global movement that creates opportunities for those on the margins. For the Venezuelan artists in this project, it’s more than dance—it’s a concrete path to social inclusion, cultural recognition, and economic stability in their new communities.

That's why I call this project 'B-Migrant', a fusion of identity and movement—a name that plays on how breakers call each other “B-Boy” or “B-Girl” while echoing the reality of migration. It speaks to a journey not just across borders but through dance itself, where each step is both a statement of belonging and a fight to build a new home.