- [Angel] It's about finding your own power.

Reflecting with each other and holding each other and standing in your own power, alone or together.

I grew up in South Seattle, in South King County.

In like the most diverse parts of Seattle, with the most ethnicities represented.

Dance, culturally it's been in my life.

That's how I grew up, is like being at a Filipino party, and you've got the cousins in one room, and lolas in the other room, and everyone's doing karaoke, and we're all dancing and eating.

Popping is one of the main styles that influenced me.

I was so attracted to the aggression and assertion and power.

Having dance is one way you can be in community and communicate with each other.

I'm really grateful for the street styles communities, and I just want to name that it is Black and Latinx and often intersected with queer identities -- it is that community, that is what paved the way for me to be here.

Just witnessing women of color and queer women of color so unapologetically.

Like, I'm here and you're going to watch me, and we're going to battle, and we're going to cypher, and we're going to have fun.

Owning your own body, that's what I looked up to is that boldness to be themselves.

I don't see enough spaces that are intergenerational.

Being able to be in the space with the Lil Brown Girls Club is about ritual.

And for me to anchor in with my communities is what kind of keeps me sane.

- [Bria] We're like a family so we help each other.

But I have to stand my ground when I dance.

- [Angel] I also just wanna see more intentionality around understanding what community looks like.

Passing on whatever tools I know to other girls of color, other queer people of color about how to navigate the intersections of dance spaces, or even just the world.