Four years ago, as the pandemic brought the world to a standstill, Tako was simply looking for a place to restart dance, and created a Xiaohongshu account called “Tako Dancing in Los Angeles” to share her training. Little did she know that she would start from scratch in LA’s professional dance scene and, within four years, evolve from a dancer who was “almost like a beginner” to one selected by choreography masters like Keone and Mari, performing on a film set.

“The Heart Was Willing, but the Body Was Weak—Yet It Comes Back with Practice”

Tako’s dance journey has unfolded in two distinct chapters.

Her first exposure was at just seven years old, placed into a gymnastics team. She recalls crying, being stubborn, refusing to do backbends or leg stretches. Later, in elementary school dance classes, she gradually rediscovered the joy of expressing herself through movement.

But dance soon faded into the background amid academic pressures and parental expectations. She studied piano for ten years, and was finally “allowed” to dance. During high school, she went to Japan for a month of intensive training; upon returning, she was noticed by the owner of Shenzhen’s Tianwu IDG and began getting involved in commercial performances and substitute teaching. But even then, dance remained just a hobby, not something she committed to fully.

University pulled her further away from dance. High school, college, graduate school—she stepped onto a standard life path. Then the pandemic hit, pressing pause on everything.

“People say the prime age for dancers is 18 to 25, and I completely stopped dancing during that period,” she says. “Restarting after seven years, I really was like a beginner again. My heart was willing, but my body was weak.” She quickly realized, however, that with systematic training and fitness, the body’s condition can return.

She doesn’t see age as a barrier to dance. She notes that dancers abroad often say “30 is the best age for dancing,” and believes a dancer’s prime might even be around 35.

“LA Can Be Snobby, but Dance Is the Best Companion”

When Tako first arrived in Los Angeles, she juggled a full-time job, a Master’s in Computer Science at Georgia Tech, and squeezing in time for dance. “I eventually realized I couldn’t manage it all,” she says. Coinciding with the wave of layoffs in the US tech industry, she decisively dropped the Master’s program to invest more time in dance.

“For the first year or two, I really had no friends. I just kept my head down and danced,” she recalls. “LA can be very snobby; everyone is like that.” She describes the local dance scene: people check your Instagram, see whose classes you’ve taken, what commercial projects you’ve worked on, which famous choreographers you know—all before deciding whether to befriend you.

“I’m not here to network or climb social ladders,” she states. “Dance is my best companion.”

It wasn’t until the third year that her efforts began to get noticed. “People start to see you getting picked —‘Wow, so Tako can actually dance!’” she says with a laugh. “Then they start wanting to be friends.”

“Masochistic” Training and a “Wolf-Like” Mentor

Tako admits she’s a student who “likes a bit of masochism, because that’s how I improve fastest.”

Her first major mentor is Kolanie Marks, whom she’s been training under for over four years. “The first time I went to his class, I didn’t even know who he was,” she laughs. “I just stumbled right into the lion’s den.”

It was during the pandemic, with only fifteen people in the rehearsal studio. The intensity was extreme; she felt pushed to the brink of collapse almost every class. Yet, it was precisely this training that catalyzed her rapid transformation. “He’s 43, still full of passion, still constantly evolving,” Tako says. “He never lowers the standard or difficulty for his students. Even after dancing with him for so long, I still often find myself in a state of not knowing how to dance.”

“He doesn’t just inspire me in dance; he inspires my outlook on life,” Tako reflects. In four years, she has never seen him take a sick day or miss a class. During Christmas week, he was still in the group chat asking, “Does anyone want to train?” Tako says she learned this sense of “showing up” from him. When she started teaching her own Sunday classes, she made it a point never to cancel lightly. “I feel that as long as I’m there, my students can find me.”

Recently, she found another teacher, Free Boogie, whom she calls “an even more terrifying instructor.” In a choreography session with only four people, Tako couldn’t get one move right. The teacher made everyone stop and sit in front, watching her until she executed it correctly.

“The sweat was just pouring off me; the pressure was immense,” she recalls. “But in that moment, I suddenly understood one of my flaws and exactly how to improve.”

Her learning style is high-pressure, disciplined, and intensely self-reflective. She records her practice from each class and sends it to her teachers. Even if they don’t reply, she persists. “I’m not asking for feedback; I’m holding myself accountable, telling myself I’ve completed the assignment.” Sometimes, months later, a teacher might suddenly share her video. In those moments of being “seen,” she feels it’s all worth it.

A Healing Journey with Keone and Mari

In 2023, Tako was selected by Keone and Mari to participate in a film dance project. She describes it as the most healing experience of her dance career.

“They were so laid-back. They taught the routines incredibly fast. Many people couldn’t keep up on the spot, and they’d just say, ‘I trust you guys gonna work on it,’ and sent us home,” she laughs. “During filming, they were even more relaxed. They said, ‘Just stand wherever you want,’ and honestly, no one fought for the center spot.”

What moved her most was that Keone remembered every dancer’s name. “Forty people, and he remembered them all,” she says. “He isn’t the type to pressure you, but precisely because of that, you want to deliver your best for him.”

During the final scene shot in a church, all the dancers were crying as they performed. “Even though I’m not a Christian, that energy was truly healing,” she shares. “After it ended, I got back to my car and cried for a long time.”

Regrets and “No Rush for Fame”

Tako once came incredibly close to a dancer’s career peak.

This year, she received an offer to be a dancer for BTS member J-Hope’s tour but couldn’t accept due to work visa restrictions. “That was the closest I’ve ever been to the top in my dance career,” she says softly. “But because of my immigration status, I couldn’t grasp it.”

She didn’t let it discourage her; instead, it solidified her resolve to keep training. “I know my skills are sufficient; I just need the right visa status,” she explains. “I’m in no rush to become famous. I’m willing to take it slower.”

She’s seen too many young dancers get lost in the whirlwind of fame and recognition. “If you become famous before you’re ready, you stop making progress,” she observes. She aspires to be like Keone and Mari, letting time and work speak for themselves. “Being hot for two or three years isn’t my goal. I want what they have—staying relevant and respected for years.”

Advice to Her Younger Self: Know Yourself First, Then Dance

At the end of our conversation, when asked what advice she would give her younger self just starting out with dance, Tako pondered for a moment.

“Know yourself first, then dance,” she says. “But you can do both simultaneously. The most important thing isn’t just to dance mechanically, but to think, to understand the world.”

She believes the maturity of one’s dance stems from the maturity of the person. “The more you experience in life, the more flavor comes through in your movement,” she reflects. “Dance isn’t just steps; it’s the expression of your life.”

Tako still trains daily in Los Angeles.

“Dance itself is already a companion,” she says.

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