On a Friday evening in a converted heritage building on Front Street, a dozen dancers are warming up to bass-heavy beats. Their movements are explosive—chest pops, arm swings, footwork driven by raw emotion. This is not Los Angeles or Vancouver. This is Dawson City, Yukon: a remote subarctic town of roughly 1,300 people, where two small studios have quietly become unlikely outposts for Krump, the street dance born in South Central LA.
Krump emerged in the early 2000s as an alternative to gang culture, channeling aggression and hardship into expressive, high-energy movement. That it has taken root here, thousands of miles from its origins, says less about geographic probability than about the form's adaptability—and the determination of a small group of dancers who refused to let isolation limit their art.
The Road to the Yukon
The story of Krump in Dawson begins in 2016, when Marcus Chen arrived from Vancouver after a shoulder injury sidelined his professional career. Chen had placed third at the 2016 Canadian Street Dance Championships and was searching for a slower pace. He brought with him crates of battle footage, a network of West Coast dancers, and a conviction that Krump could travel.
"I showed up with no plan," Chen says. "I taught a free class at the community centre. Six kids came. Three of them stayed."
Those three students became the foundation of The Rhythm Vault, which Chen formally opened in 2018. Today the studio runs three 90-minute sessions weekly in a former hardware store, its wooden floors original to the 1901 construction. Classes are small—typically eight to twelve students—and structured around physical conditioning, mental preparation, and the history of Krump's LA roots.
Chen's approach is methodical. "Out here, you can't just watch battles on YouTube and copy moves," he explains. "You need to understand why the dance exists. The anger, the release, the church influence, the clowning lineage. Otherwise it's just flailing."
A Different Philosophy Down the Street
Three blocks north, Soul Clap Studios occupies the basement of the Downtown Hotel. Founded in 2020 by Chen's former student Aisha Tootoo, the studio diverges sharply in tone and method. Where The Rhythm Vault emphasizes technique and historical literacy, Soul Clap prioritizes personal narrative and emotional risk.
Tootoo, 26, grew up in Dawson and discovered Krump in Chen's community centre class. She trained with him for three years before founding her own space, determined to create what she felt was missing: a studio where dancers used Krump to process their own experiences rather than replicate an imported style.
"Marcus taught me the foundation," Tootoo says. "But Krump in Dawson has to be ours. These kids are dealing with things LA dancers never face—seasonal isolation, the legacy of colonialism, the pressure to leave for the South. The dance has to hold that."
Her annual showcase, "Echoes of the Streets," debuted in 2022 and has become a local fixture, drawing audiences of 200 in a town where that represents nearly one-sixth of the population. The 2024 edition featured twelve original pieces, including a solo by 17-year-old Jayla Komar about her grandmother's residential school experience, performed to a reworked traditional drum song.
One Dancer's Path
Jayla Komar began at The Rhythm Vault at age 14, after Chen visited her high school during an outreach program. She had never heard of Krump. Four years later, she splits her training between both studios—technique with Chen, choreography with Tootoo—and hopes to study dance at Concordia University in Montreal.
"At first I thought Krump was just angry," Komar says. "Then I realized it's about having a place to feel. In Dawson, especially in winter, that matters. The studio is where I don't have to be quiet."
Komar's trajectory is unusual but not unique. Chen estimates that roughly thirty of his former students have pursued dance seriously after high school, several receiving scholarships to Vancouver and Toronto programs. Tootoo notes that three of her earliest students now teach introductory classes themselves, creating a self-sustaining pipeline that neither founder anticipated.
Beyond the Studio Walls
Both institutions operate with thin margins. The Rhythm Vault charges $45 per month for unlimited youth classes; Soul Clap runs on a sliding scale, with several students attending free. Neither studio turns away students for lack of funds. Equipment is donated or improvised—mirrors salvaged from a closed hotel, speakers funded by a 2023 community crowdfunding campaign.
Their impact, however, extends past dance instruction. The studios have become informal gathering places for Dawson's Indigenous and non-Indigenous youth, a demographic that local mental health workers say faces elevated risks of isolation and substance use. Sarah McLeod, a counsellor at
