What is Krump?
Krump (originally “Kingdom Radically Uplifted Mighty Praise”) is an intensely physical street dance form that emerged from the African American communities of South Central Los Angeles in the early 2000s. The style is characterized by free, expressive, exaggerated, and highly energetic movements that include chest pops, arm swings, stomps, and jabs. Unlike its predecessor clowning, krump channels raw emotion—particularly anger, grief, and spiritual fervor—into organized movement that functions simultaneously as artistic expression, athletic competition, and cathartic release. Dancers describe the practice as a form of spiritual warfare, emotional purging, and transcendence that allows participants to transform pain into power without physical violence.
Origins & Lineage
Krump was created in 2000-2001 by Ceasare “Tight Eyez” Willis and Jo’Artis “Big Mijo” Ratti in South Central Los Angeles. The style evolved directly from clowning, a dance form pioneered by Thomas Johnson (“Tommy the Clown”) in 1992, which featured colorful face paint and playful, energetic movements performed at children’s birthday parties. Willis and Ratti, who initially danced as clowns, sought a more aggressive and spiritually grounded expression that reflected the intensity of life in their neighborhoods during a period marked by poverty, gang violence, and limited opportunities for Black youth.
The term “krump” was later backronymed to “Kingdom Radically Uplifted Mighty Praise,” reflecting the spiritual and redemptive dimensions the founders attributed to the practice. The 2005 documentary “Rize,” directed by photographer David LaChapelle, brought krump to international attention by documenting the lives of its creators and the South Central dance community. The film framed krump explicitly as a spiritual practice and alternative to gang culture, showing dancers in battle circles (“sessions”) and discussing the form’s role in processing trauma and expressing devotion.
How It’s Practiced
Krump sessions typically occur in informal settings—parking lots, community centers, living rooms, or street corners—where dancers form circles and take turns battling. A krump battle involves two or more dancers facing off, responding to each other’s movements with increasingly complex and emotionally charged sequences. Movements are improvisational but draw from a recognized vocabulary: chest hits that create visible vibrations, arm swings that whip through space, stomps that claim territory, and full-body convulsions that suggest possession or trance states.
Dancers often describe entering altered states during intense sessions, referring to the experience as “getting amped,” “blacking out,” or “channeling.” The practice demands extraordinary cardiovascular endurance, full-body coordination, and emotional vulnerability. Sessions are structured around call-and-response dynamics, with dancers “serving” each other—meaning they deliver movements intended to challenge, honor, or spiritually engage their opponent. Elders and more experienced dancers adjudicate sessions, maintaining the form’s ethical and spiritual codes.
Music is central: producers create high-tempo tracks (often 140-160 BPM) with heavy bass, minimal melody, and percussive emphasis. The sonic landscape mirrors the dance’s intensity and provides rhythmic scaffolding for improvisation.
Krump Today
Krump has evolved from its South Central origins into a global phenomenon while maintaining strong ties to its foundational community. International krump communities exist in France, Japan, South Korea, Brazil, and throughout Europe, with annual events like “Battlezone” and “Krump Kings” bringing dancers together for competition and exchange. Tight Eyez continues to teach workshops worldwide and serves as a guardian of the form’s history and spiritual ethos.
Contemporary dancers access krump through YouTube tutorials, Instagram documentation, in-person workshops, and local dance studios that have incorporated the style into their offerings. The form has also appeared in commercial contexts—music videos, films like “Step Up” franchise, and dance competition television—though purists often critique these representations as sanitized or performative rather than authentic expressions of krump’s spiritual and communal roots.
Scholars in dance studies, African American studies, and urban anthropology have begun examining krump as a contemporary manifestation of African diasporic movement traditions, noting connections to ring shouts, Pentecostal worship practices, and West African ceremonial dance.
Common Misconceptions
Krump is not simply aggressive or violent movement. While the style channels anger and intensity, practitioners insist it serves as an alternative to violence, redirecting destructive impulses into creative expression. It is also not synonymous with clowning, from which it descends but with which it maintains important aesthetic and philosophical distinctions—clowning is playful and theatrical; krump is raw and confessional.
Krump is not a workout trend or fitness program, though it demands athletic prowess. The form’s significance lies in its function as communal ritual, spiritual practice, and cultural resistance rather than physical conditioning. Finally, despite its global spread, krump is not a decontextualized dance technique divorced from its South Central Los Angeles origins; authentic practice requires engagement with the form’s history, values, and community protocols.
How to Begin
Prospective practitioners should start by watching “Rize” (2005) to understand krump’s cultural context and spiritual foundations. Seek out local krump communities or workshops led by dancers with direct lineage to the Los Angeles originators. Many cities have krump collectives that welcome beginners to observational sessions before participating. Online, follow Tight Eyez and other foundational figures for both technical instruction and cultural education.
Approach the practice with humility and awareness that krump is inseparable from the lived experiences of Black communities in South Central Los Angeles. Respect the form’s codes—don’t appropriate the aesthetic without engaging its ethics, history, and community accountability structures.