Meet Daniel Norwood | Dancer and Movement Poet

We had the good fortune of connecting with Daniel Norwood and we’ve shared our conversation below.

Hi Daniel, is there something that you feel is most responsible for your success?
I wasn’t born with rhythm in my bones or some god-given gift for movement. What I had was a growing dissatisfaction. A gnawing restlessness. I got tired of being afraid, tired of letting insecurity dictate the terms of my life like some passive observer behind glass.

At some point, the music got under my skin. The way it twisted with movement, it wasn’t just art, it was language. A kind I actually understood. So I followed that feeling. Not for applause. Not for fame. Just curiosity. Hunger. Fascination.

Dance became the place where I could finally say something, something real, without having to speak. And in that, I found connection. Not the forced, polite kind. It was sharp, honest, and impossible to fake.

Let’s talk shop? Tell us more about your career, what can you share with our community?
I’m a child of Los Angeles, but I didn’t grow up dancing. I found dance at twenty, late by most standards, and only then realized I was standing in the epicenter of a street-dance renaissance, surrounded by pioneers who were stretching the limits of what Popping (or Poplocking, or Boogaloo, depending on your neighborhood) could be.

What I’m proudest of isn’t a trophy or a tour; it’s the habit of walking straight into discomfort. The real dance for me has always been internal: facing down the fear that I’m not enough, that I’ll freeze under the lights. I don’t crave the spotlight, I crave the moment right after, when I know I survived it and maybe even stirred something in the crowd. That relationship with fear is part of what keeps me dancing: every performance is an act of practical philosophy, proving that growth lives on the other side of discomfort.

Dreams only become real if you stay agile, solve the puzzle that is you while also outmaneuvering the external hurdles. The fuel is your why: a purpose that’s bigger than ego, so when you inevitably lose your footing you still have a guiding light.

Right now I’m channeling that purpose into “Off Beat,” a docu-series that dives into local cultures through their art, food, dance, rituals, wherever the road takes me. After judging, teaching, and performing in 23 countries across five continents, from street corners with the originators to the American Music Awards with Taylor Swift, and on tour with Barclay Crenshaw, I’ve breathed this culture at both its grassroots and its most mainstream.

My degrees in Psychology and Religious Studies help me unpack the human stories behind the steps, but more importantly they remind me that movement is philosophy in motion: belief systems you can see and feel. As an L.A. kid turned global performer, I carry the tension between innovation and tradition every day, determined to honor the culture that pulled me out of a rough adolescence while still pushing its existence forward.

If there’s one thing I’d like the world to understand, it’s that I’m less interested in selling myself than in sharing a process: approaching history with reverence, interrogating the philosophy behind each movement, then adding a fresh sentence to the ongoing story of street dance. That lineage is sacred ground—and I’m just grateful to leave my footprints in it.

If you had a friend visiting you, what are some of the local spots you’d want to take them around to?
Los Angeles is one of the most diverse cities in the world, and somehow, one of the most isolating. You can be famous here and still vanish into the background. You can find nearly any culture or heritage on Earth, but it takes time to figure out where to look, who to ask, and how to order.

I’ve lived here my whole life and I’m still discovering new corners of it. Which part of the city I show someone depends entirely on who they are and what they’re into. L.A. isn’t one place,it’s a constellation of neighborhoods, each with its own flavor, rhythm, and story.

Street dance is still very much alive here, even though the pandemic slowed down the club scene and made finding the right music harder. Still, the sessions never stopped. Monday nights are at Homeland Cultural Center in Long Beach, that’s where I first learned to dance. Tuesdays you’ll find the Gr818ers holding it down in Canoga Park. Wednesdays, Tabo, my mentor, hosts a session on a bridge in Downtown L.A. The rest of the week is open for whatever pops up, because in this city, something always does.

If someone’s visiting, I’d have to take them to a Funk Freaks party so they can feel the soul of L.A.’s funk scene. They’d definitely need a car, but I’d also make them ride the bus or train at least once, just to appreciate what having a car really means out here.

Food is one of the deepest ways to understand L.A. Every country is represented, and represented well. But it takes time before you know where to go. I grew up on burritos, and La Azteca in East Los still has one of my favorite breakfast burritos anywhere. On the Westside, there’s the Alibi Room, home to Roy Choi’s signature Korean-Mexican fusion. And we’d have to hit East L.A. for the best Mexican and Asian spots, maybe Thai Town, Little Tokyo, Alhambra, or Monterey Park. One of my favorite recent finds is the Laksa at Borneo Kalimantan Cuisine. It hits like comfort food and adventure at the same time.
I’ve traveled the world chasing flavors, but every time I come home, I realize something new was just down the street the whole time. I just didn’t know how to order it.

The Shoutout series is all about recognizing that our success and where we are in life is at least somewhat thanks to the efforts, support, mentorship, love and encouragement of others. So is there someone that you want to dedicate your shoutout to?
This part always makes me squirm a bit, to be honest. Too many names, too many hands that pulled me out of the mud when I couldn’t do it myself. The truth is, I didn’t get here on my own. Nobody does. It took a village. A messy, beautiful, battle tested community that shaped me into the artist, and human, I’ve become.

There was Tabo, steady as a compass, always calling bullshit when it counted. There is my family, blood and chosen, who showed up in ways that don’t fit into neat little Instagram captions. And my partner, who’s been there through the chaos and the quiet. This journey? It’s never been mine alone.

I’m trying to honor that the best way I know how, by telling the real stories through my workshops, interviews, and the docu-series I’m working on. Im hoping to share the stories beyond the limelight that have shaped our culture today.

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/dsou1/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/d.souL626/

Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@food4Dsou1

Image Credits
Phil Garvin
Daniel Julien Inacio