Every single person you meet has an ego. It defines their self-image, self-esteem, and their sense of self-importance. Some will say you need to drop your ego. Let go of it. Transcend. Some will go as far as saying it is the greatest obstacle in your path, keeping you from experiencing love, happiness, or success. When I met Son Lam, he said something that made a huge impression: “We need to own our ego.” In many ways, Lam’s story shows that owning your ego—rather than letting go of it—can pave a path forward to not only experiencing love, happiness, and success, but also for sharing those things with others. Lam explained that sometimes his ego is simple: he wants to be great, and he wants to win. At other times, his ego is more complex. He uses his darker side, that demon inside, as fuel to reach his full potential. Above all, for Lam, owning your ego is about awareness, not dependence. By training himself to be the controller of his mind, he is able to condition his brain to adapt to different environments. He can pump himself up when he needs to, and he can tone himself down when the situation demands it. By staying aware of the present moment, he can choose to transfer his energy in ways that serve him. More than anything, Lam does all of that through dance.
Nowadays, Lam is a professional dancer performing in competitions around the world, but his dancing journey began in Saigon where he grew up. He remembers when he first went to high school, he saw one of his friends dancing, and as a result, gained lots of popularity, especially attention from girls. It was at that moment teenage Lam admitted he wanted to learn how to dance like his friend, and for the same reasons. More importantly, at a deeper level, he wanted to be seen. So, Lam started teaching himself how to dance through watching YouTube videos inside his childhood home in Bình Thạnh. First, he started with break dancing, or breaking for short, but quickly discovered how hard it was on his body. From his mom’s perspective, breaking was too risky. Simply put, she worried that her son might hurt himself and did not want him to continue dancing in that style. This forced Lam to search for something new so that his family wouldn’t stop him from dancing. Soon after he learned about popping. Both breaking and popping originated in the United States. However, whereas breaking is more of an East coast, hip-hop style of dance—focused on acrobatics, power moves, and freezing—popping is more of a West coast, funk style of dance—defined by sudden, rhythmic muscle contractions known as “pops”. Once Lam discovered popping, he fell in love. Not only did it check the box as being a safer style according to his family, he liked the stylish way it was. The illusionary flow of slow motion, robotic, and even wavy types of movement looked and felt cool to him. Ultimately, it checked all of the boxes and left him wanting to keep learning more.
Lam started participating in dance performances at school and took classes with the Saigon-based group, Destiny Family. Although they are less active today, at the time, they were the most popular crew in southern Vietnam. Lam felt a strong desire to join their ranks, but nothing official ever materialized. However, at the same time, a dance instructor from his school told him about another group: X Clown. They were new at that point and nobody had really heard about them yet. From Lam’s perspective, he really wanted to be a part of a dance crew, but did not want to join one that had already established itself. He felt if he joined an already popular crew, he might receive the social validation he was craving, but also he would know that it wasn’t as pure as he hoped for. He wanted to join a new crew, one that he could learn and grow with together. So, Lam took the leap by showing up at one of X Clown’s practices to express his interest. Hearing his proposition, X Clown paused their practice when he came around and told Lam point blank: “Show us what you got.” And he did. He freestyled for them, showcasing everything he had learned up until that point, and a few moments later, young Lam received the good news he was looking for: “You’re in.”
To this day, now over fifteen years later, Lam feels that joining X Clown was one of the greatest decisions he ever made. It was the best crew a young dancer like himself could have joined at the beginning of his journey. One of the main reasons being they had the vision he craved for what a dance crew could be. Their mission was to destroy all of the stereotypes people often have about dancers. For example, their creed included not smoking, not swearing, not showing up late, and definitely not missing practice. Anything and everything that might tarnish their reputation or their ability to be the best crew they could be had to be eliminated. Instead they embodied a collective, razor sharp focus: we’re going practice, practice, and practice, and then we’re going to show out for everyone to see. We’re going to be nice, as Lam summed it up. Lam gives special credit to the crew’s leader, DoDo, for having such a clear vision. “He set the foundation. He wanted to be different. He wanted to be the example, and stay true to our culture,” Lam said.
As part of X Clown, Lam learned all sorts of dance: popping, krumping, locking, hip-hop, various street dance styles, but above all, his role in the crew was rooted in his speciality: popping. As intended their crew relentlessly practiced every day and competed often. Their dedication quickly paid off, leading X Clown to capture multiple national titles and establish themselves as the preeminent crew in the country. But even with the success that comes from all of those hours of dedication, deep down Lam still felt very shy and nervous. In fact, he explained that initially when he started as a teenager, he used dancing to hide himself—more specifically to mask his worries. It seems counterintuitive—placing yourself on stage to do what you love at the risk of being judged by others—but that was his way of leaning into his fears.
That said, soon after Lam started dancing, he experienced a key turning point at 19 years old, one that may have appeared validating but was actually limiting. Lam signed up to participate in one of Vietnam’s biggest and most popular dance competitions on television: So You Think You Can Dance. Viewers from the country are asked to vote for not necessarily the best dancer, although Lam clarified of course you have to be good, but more than that people are encouraged to vote for their most favorite dancer. Round by round, Lam showed up and showed out, being voted by the live audience again and again to move onward making it all the way to the final episode, which featured the last four contestants standing. He even ended up winning the whole thing and because the show’s performances used to air live on television unlike they do now, Lam’s dance moves and on screen appeal made him feel like he became a celebrity overnight.
It was a huge moment of validation. So much so, his parents were convinced to allow him to skip the rest of high school and focus purely on his passion. Before long, however, he found himself lost in a wave of being scheduled for various commercials and advertisements, pulling and pushing him in front of the public eye. It wasn’t that long before Lam felt like he was getting booked for gigs to simply show his face next to a company’s product, rather than express his love for dance. Because of this external pressure, he started worrying a lot more about his looks rather than dedicating his time to practicing his moves. It was then he came to a realization.
“Being seen is just part of what I want, but what I’m really obsessed with is growth,” he said, “I crave that sense of reaching my full potential. When I lean toward that good things come and I feel like I’m being of service to the world.” Lam decided he wanted to go somewhere nobody knew his face, his moves, or anything about him. More than that though, he wanted to get better at dancing. In his opinion if you want to be great, you have to go to where the greats are and learn from them up close. So, he picked the one place in the world he thought had the best dancers: Los Angeles, California.
Lam moved to Torrance, a city in the South Bay of Los Angeles County, with a singular focus: to train with the best. Before he arrived, a friend from Vietnam had pointed him toward a local dancer named Jordan. "If you move to Torrance, contact Jordan," he was told. Jordan was a true "scientist" of dance. Training out of his own private dungeon, he offered Lam private classes free of charge and quickly became an unexpected anchor in his life. "As Vietnamese," Lam explained, "it’s always us and the others." Jordan changed that perception, teaching Lam that friendship could happen at any time and across any culture. As they grew close, Jordan pushed Lam to refine his technique with a level of rigor he hadn’t experienced before. In this manner, Jordan became more than just a mentor—he turned into the person Lam knew he would miss most if he ever left Los Angeles, and he would later stand by Lam’s side as the best man at his wedding. “I never thought I would find a friend who speaks a totally different language and lives so far away from my country. He taught so much about not just dance, but also how to become a better person,” Lam said. “Next to meeting my wife, Jordan is literally the best thing that happened to me.”
In addition, after relocating to the States, Lam got accepted into the El Camino Community College to study dance. He got to take formal classes for different kinds of dance there, though they were all linked to a more contemporary, studio style of dancing. In one of his classes, Lam met Yasmine, the choreographer leading the group, and the two hit it off immediately. So much so, that after three months of dating, Yasmine flew to Vietnam to surprise Lam in his hometown. What was supposed to be a beautiful dream of two people reconnecting thousands of miles away from where they first met quickly descended into a nightmare.
The two flew from Saigon to Phú Quốc the next day after meeting up and arrived on the island at around sunrise. When they got there, a big part of them was tired. The excitement of seeing each other, immediately booking a flight to go on holiday, and traveling to a new place, although as joyful as it sounds, was also exhausting. Yet, the other part of them figured they only have a short time together in Vietnam, only a few days to explore, and thought they might as well make the most of it. So, Lam and Yasmine hit the ground running by renting a bike immediately upon arriving to drive along the island’s coast. Not long after, chaos ensued. First, Yasmine, who had been riding on the back of the bike, fell asleep. Then, Lam, who had been driving the bike, fell asleep as well. A few moments later, the two ended up in a bike accident. Somehow Lam, besides a few cuts and bruises, came out relatively unscathed. However, Yasmine was not. She shattered all of her front teeth, much of which were implanted into her gums. The two went to the emergency room, where Yasmine was instructed that she would need further treatment and it would be best to return to California so that she could receive the proper care she needed.
When the two returned to California, Lam moved in with Yasmine and her family to be by her side as she recovered from the accident. Lam explained to me how important of a moment this was for their relationship, and even more so himself. He said, “I was forced to see my true self quite quickly.” And when he spoke to Yasmine, he added, “Even with this accident, I still love you. Even when we grow up, and our looks change, I’ll still love you then too.” What would follow was a year of living together while she dealt with healing from a long term procedure, as a result an even stronger bond formed. Coming out the other side of a dream holiday turned nightmare disaster resulting in a near death experience, Lam and Yasmine felt their love was proven to be unbreakable no matter the circumstances, and the two decided to get married a year after the accident in 2019. Afterward, they decided to start their new chapter together by moving to northern California, where they could live together and continue studying dance at a new school: San Francisco State University.
While living in the Bay Area, home to a massive street dance community and the birthplace of popping, Lam attended a dance camp to further his skills. There, he met another dancer named Ryan, also known as Future, who became a mentor, teammate, and one of Lam’s closest friends. Just recently, the two performed together in Paris, showcasing the evolution of their teamwork at the Juste Debout World Finals. It was a special moment for Lam, considering he had been watching that event on TV for years. Yet, the seeds were sown much earlier, when Ryan first noticed Lam’s raw abilities at that camp in San Francisco. After chatting, Lam discovered Ryan was a Red Bull consultant in charge of scouting local talent. He invited Lam to participate in the West Coast qualifier in Oakland. At the time, Lam felt that merely receiving an invite to compete was a massive win—a stamp of approval that confirmed he was on the right path. But then, Lam won the competition, securing his spot on the national stage in New Orleans.
Although he did not win in New Orleans, he was invited back the following year, this time directly to the national stage, which had moved to Atlanta. But if you ask Lam, the victory that stays with him most wasn't the national title; it was that West Coast Qualifier in Oakland. Winning there was deeply personal. It was a battle against the 'monsters' of the Bay Area, the very heroes who built the style he lives by. To step into the birthplace of popping, face the local legends, and win over a crowd that had crowned him the underdog was a storybook moment. It was the ultimate proof that respect for the culture transcends where you are born. That victory served as a springboard, leading him to Atlanta and eventually, to representing the United States at the World Final in Mumbai. Although he did not take home the world crown, one of his childhood teammates from X Clown did: Minh Tuấn, also known as MTPOP, who claimed the world champion title in 2024. For any natural competitor, losing always leaves a bitter taste, but Lam felt a huge sense of pride seeing a friend he grew up with take home the trophy for Vietnam. The journey continued into 2025, where Lam proved his consistency by winning the US National Final yet again. He returned to the world stage, this time at the Intuit Dome in Los Angeles, competing in the elite Top 16. While the world title that year ultimately went to Jaïra Joy of the Netherlands, Lam’s back-to-back appearances on the world stage cemented his status as a bona fide dancing superstar.
It was during this ascent that Ryan—also known as Future—became a pivotal coach and mentor. Throughout Lam’s Red Bull journey, Ryan didn't just critique his footwork or technical popping skills; he helped him structure his movement, navigate the professional demands of the market, and understand the history and politics that formed the bedrock of the craft. Ryan pushed Lam to stop doubting his place in the scene, constantly reminding him that he had earned his spot through his unwavering investment and dedication to the craft, regardless of his birthplace. Most importantly, Ryan fundamentally shifted Lam’s perspective on what it meant to be an outsider. Lam explained that Ryan would often remind him: "Being a part of the culture is not about where you're born or even what your race is. It’s about how you live. You can be a different race but because of your upbringing and community, your culture is different. It’s not your DNA. Your culture is what you live.” This was vital for Lam. He had spent years navigating the American dance scene as a perpetual outsider, constantly trying to prove he belonged. Ryan gave him the permission to stop apologizing for his presence. He showed Lam that being a part of this culture was about the respect you paid to the lineage and the contribution you made to the craft. That mentorship changed everything—it turned Lam from a transient competitor into a rooted participant who believes in himself.
Nevertheless, it’s often the case when you hear about people’s journeys, especially for those who have reached varying levels of success in their field, you only get to read about the winning and losing that takes place on stage for the world to see. Before I met with Lam for coffee, I had already heard about the competitions he was a part of, and so I was more curious to learn about what was going on in between events. When I met him, I quickly discovered he’s very open to talk—once we sat down with our cups of coffee in front of us, we dove right into his childhood, his move to LA, the bike accident, and his whole journey to date. However, I got the sense he’s not always like this. There’s still a shyness to him that’s subtle, not in the sense that he’s seeking to withdraw from conversation, but more that he’s tactical about how he talks about certain things. There’s an intensity in his eyes when he’s talking about his craft, but that is also paired with a lightness when he’s talking about himself. Without seeing him move and instead sitting still at a table, I felt from the way he speaks that he cares deeply about dance and especially the people around him, but doesn’t take himself too seriously. This dichotomy between his intensity and lightheartedness made for a striking display. It felt like a fluid dance between two parts that are integral to his sense of himself. Moreover, in between competing on the world stage, Lam kept working day and night. As he explained, he’s fully invested in being the best dancer and athlete he can be. That means doing whatever it takes. Washing dishes, driving for Uber Eats, or any other sort of odd jobs here and there in between his training. He taught me that when you’re pursuing your dream, even when you get a taste of success along the way, no work is beneath you if you really love it and believe in what you’re doing.
To share his love of dance, Lam teaches classes here in Saigon at MAR Studio on Ngô Tất Tố. The name is an acronym for Movement, Art, and Research, but for Lam and his wife Yasmine, it carries a deeper meaning. Since Yasmine is from Peru and her first language is Spanish, 'Mar'—the word for ocean—is a tribute to their shared history living near the Californian coast. To them, the ocean represents life, constant movement, and the flow of evolution. More than just a training facility, MAR was born from a desire to support mental health. Having experienced the pressures of life in the US, Lam and Yasmine felt fortunate to have movement as a way to love their bodies and stay present. They wanted to create a space that offers an alternative to the stress of daily life: not an army of perfect yogis or battle dancers, but a community of people who are healthier, happier, and learning to love themselves.
Furthermore, they frequently bring in international guest teachers, but they are just as committed to honoring the local roots of the scene. For example, Sơn Clown, one of the leaders of Destiny Family, is one of the studio’s teachers who shares the studio floor, passing his decades of expertise to the next generation. Additionally, Lam launched a special show called Open Floor: a theatre-like environment where street dancers can express themselves purely, without the 60-second limitations and battle mentality of traditional competitions. Their commitment to community extends beyond the studio walls as well. To celebrate their third anniversary this year, they organized 'Moves For Paws,' successfully raising 18 million VND to help local animals in need. Together, Lam and Yasmine are focused on creating a ripple effect of happiness and hope that they want to vibrate out through Vietnam and beyond.
According to Lam, Vietnam is currently in a healthy phase with dance. “There’s so much talent here, you definitely have to bring your A game now” he says. In his opinion, what makes Vietnam great is the shared willingness of doing whatever it takes to make it work and that mentality translates directly to dance. However, he knows that in any art form, raw determination is only the starting point. Grit must be channeled through deliberate intention.
Now that Lam is teaching more classes, I asked him what he thinks is most important when it comes to dance. He broke it down into three categories: music sensitivity, vocabulary, and originality. First, music sensitivity. This refers to the idea of doing more than just hitting the beat right when you’re dancing. It’s about feeling the texture of the music and the world the music creates. Second, vocabulary. As Lam explains, no matter what language you’re learning, developing a solid foundation of words to use is crucial. This is no different with dance. Dancing is like talking, and if you don’t have the words (the individual moves) to create sentences (full routines), you cannot tell a greater story. Lastly, originality. This is where there’s risk involved. Once you have the sensitivity and the vocabulary, you have to be willing to express yourself outside the lines. This means looking inward and moving in a way that expresses how you think, feel, and live your life as whole. Beyond these three, Lam stresses the importance of training your whole body so you can use a full range of motion. To do so, he practices calisthenics, pilates, and various kinds of yoga. The more you’re able to use your body in different ways, the more fun you can have being creative in your way.
Lam will continue to compete in competitions and share his love for dance with the rest of the world, but now that he’s spending more time in Vietnam, he wants to build out his legacy at home. “Before it was a lot about proving myself, simply wanting to see my full potential. But right now I really just want to be an artist that delivers the quality I want and feels most true to me. I might not win and people might not like me, but I want to become someone that I can look back on and be proud of. I hope people will continue to study and get inspired by my art.”
For Lam, building a legacy is a lot like dancing. It’s an endless pursuit of growth that requires a deeper understanding of yourself. Both are a journey that involves numerous ups and downs. At times, you’re up and feel connected to what you’re doing. Your body feels healthy, strong, and capable of pushing your craft to its limits. Sometimes you can even feel like you’re finally accepting your fears, owning your ego, and following the light. However, in any journey, there are dark times too. Times when you feel like you're floating—as Lam described it— questioning who you are and why you’re here. Lam wasn’t afraid to admit he’s experienced many moments both in the light and in the darkness. In either case, just like Lam says we need to own our ego, perhaps we also need to accept we may never truly arrive. In other words, no amount of accolades, attention, or acceptance from others will make you feel fully satisfied with your work. You have to keep showing up every day. You have to constantly remind yourself you don’t need to wear a mask to belong. You have to be willing to lean on those around you—be it your partner, your family, your friends, or even your dog. Because the truth is, every single time you show up, you give yourself a chance to show out and share the love that is inside you. In the end, Lam’s story is proof that owning your ego doesn’t ever imprison you. Rather, it sets you free.
Follow Son Lam on Instagram
Follow Mar Studio Movement on Instagram
Follow Mar Studio Yoga on Instagram
