“Sometimes, you lose yourself because you do what it takes to win or gain popularity,” said freelance dance instructor Justis Tan, 39, as he reflected on his life after local talent contest, SuperBand.

An influential figure in the dance scene here, he shared that he first started dancing in primary school by mimicking moves from Mandopop stars and his idol Michael Jackson. He continued dancing as a hobby before pursuing it more seriously at university, where he formed his own dance crew and began competing.

After graduation, Justis’ parents disapproved of his dream to pursue dance as a career. But he continued to compete and even received a dance scholarship from Jitterbugs Swingapore. 

By 2005, Justis and his crew had made a name for themselves within Singapore’s dance scene. Justis’ band, SOUL, placed second in SuperBand and grew a considerable fanbase as a result. This opened the doors to TV gigs, meet-and-greets and even a Christmas album recording – their team seemed to be set for showbiz.

And yet, in spite of all this, SOUL ultimately decided to walk away from the fame.

Justis recalled the disillusionment vividly: “In pursuit of success – getting a company to sign our boy group to a contract so we can be paid and groomed to perform – we lost space and time for ourselves.

“We were ‘selling’ ourselves to potential buyers. Eventually, we stopped enjoying our talents. Instead of creating without fear of judgement, we had to follow trends or meet the demands of any opportunity that popped up, driven by the fear of missing out.

“In the process, we lost the simple joys of dancing, singing and being with one another.”

I realised that the main reason I wanted to compete was so I could prove myself.

Justis shared that he grew tired of the fake smiles, politically correct responses and all the masks that were worn. The final straw for SOUL’s members was seeing the toll showbiz had taken on their families.

“That was when we knew it was finally time to let go and start afresh elsewhere outside of showbiz,” revealed Justis. After SOUL disbanded, Justis returned to the dance scene, but he stopped competing altogether by 2007.

“I didn’t want to compete for the sake of competing,” he revealed. “I realised that the main reason I wanted to compete was so I could prove myself. That spirit of needing to prove myself over and over again was still there.

“So I just focused on teaching.”

Two years later in 2009, Justis came to know Christ after his girlfriend brought him to her church. The message of grace preached during the sermon led Justis to cry uncontrollably.

He shared: “God’s message of love, goodness and grace hit me really hard. After knowing Christ, it re-centred me, and I saw how the more I focused on God, the more my dance movements changed without training!”

He then began serving in his church’s visual arts dance ministry the following year. Justis would continue to serve for 7 years, a season which slowly shaped the way he taught his classes outside of church.

Justis also began training to become a life coach, which was when he learnt the power of vulnerability. That revelation caused him to start leading his classes from a place of authenticity.

He explained: “In the past, I’d focus on the swag, the coolness, the external. But now I know that hip-hop comes from a place of brokenness, and I can relate that to Christ!

“The heart will hit the audience more than your perfect lines, perfect turns and perfect freezes. By focusing on the heart, we put aside perfectionism and show humanity.”

Before and after every class, Justis takes time to gather his students and talk to them. He asks them things like how their energy levels are, how they’re currently feeling or even why they reacted in a certain way during class.

“How do we embrace each other regardless of race, cultural differences or even differences in dancing ability?” asked Justis. “I start by giving what I want to get. So for me, if I want my class to be vulnerable, I start by showing vulnerability.

If you’re the arm or leg, then be the best arm or leg you can be.” 

“A culture focused on ‘me’ shifts to become a culture of ‘we’. We, the class and myself, are like a body. It’s just like how we are all part of one body, with Christ as the head. Everyone wants to be the head, but before you can be the head, if you’re the arm or leg, then be the best arm or leg you can be.” 

Justis said that while he may be the “head” as the teacher, he looks to Christ for direction on how he can use dance to glorify Him. To him, “dance is worship”.

Justis currently teaches at a junior college, polytechnic and university, and has recently started teaching street dance classes for beginners at City on a Hill from February. He and his wife have also started a new company called Pen This Leap that focuses on empowering individuals through the English language (pen) and dance (leap). It will start with reaching out to youths first. 

“Dance can be your language, or language can be your dance,” said Justis.

He believes that people can find themselves through the language of dance, and his passion is teaching young people how to use this language to move people and how to express different emotions through movement.

“Dance can be more than what we see. Dance can heal, connect people and express complex emotions,” Justis mused.

In closing, he said: “I would like for dance to become something more than just a hobby. I hope that I can educate and share the little I know to show people that dance is way more than that.

“If you like to dance, or if you have a passion for other things, just do it. Even as you do it, you might wonder if this is the right way to go. But if you’re unsure, you don’t need to take five steps, just take one step.”

“Try it once. Try it out part-time. Take a workshop – an eight-class course or something short,” Justis encouraged. “And as you try, God can use even our mistakes and all these steps to lead us.”