It doesn’t take long to realize that Geoffrey Chang isn’t your typical b-boy.

“I’m a big nerd,” the 21-year-old is saying. He’s talking about his hobbies outside of b-boying, like art shows and community service, among, uh, other stuff.

“I’m Asian, so you can probably already guess that I’m really into anime. I really like playing games. I used to paint little figurines,” he admits.

The Silver Spring, MD native doesn’t sound sheepish because, well, he isn’t. On the other hand, it’s one of the few stereotypes applicable to Chang that is actually accurate.

He’s standing with his hands in the pockets of his black jacket, with his backpack and threadbare, paint-splattered Nikes also in tow. The sun is ducking from the patio at the 40 Watt in Rotterdam. Street Science’s Generations Battle is about to begin.

Huddled hip-hoppers peek through the occasional weed smoke cloud wafting by as the interview continues. Chang—known to many as Toyz aRe Us, or simply Toyz (like Geoffrey the Giraffe? Get it?)—doesn’t seem to mind.

As famed hip-hop photographer Martha Cooper will later point out, Toyz tends to stand out from the crowd. She’ll be referring to the fact that his bright yellow shirt makes for better pictures than the drab colors worn by other b-boys. But her words ring true in other regards as well. C’mon, it’s Martha Cooper.

Besides, aside from his shirt, Toyz is as distinguishable for what he lacks as much as what he has.

In conversation, he displays little pretense—far from the usual gruff b-boy aloofness—as he excitedly greets friends by name. Absent are the standard foam cap and Pro-Keds. Likewise for the mean-mugging and constant cock-throwing. Any hopes of classifying him as a “style” or “power” b-boy get thrown out the window.

Instead, he speaks like the kind of intellectual-meets-smart-ass you might see in a Judd Apatow movie. During a battle, you might see him beam a widespread, cheesy smile at his opponents while they coldly stare back, emotionless.

Or Toyz may do a silly little marching dance in place. Then a dazzling display of interweaving footwork. Some crazy threading shit with his hands. ‘90s variations. A firmly clenched airchair as a closer.

But it’s not that Toyz doesn’t take himself or the culture seriously. Truth be told, he’s not even really that weird.

He’s just made a point to be comfortable with himself and with the dance. And being normal—being himself—makes him stand out in a sea of b-kids trying to become someone else.

Simple a concept as it is, he says it’s a large part of how he’s gotten invited to events like Monster Jam in Korea, IBE in the Netherlands, or Street Science, where he stands now.

“A lot of people don’t really understand the concept of having your own style – being individual,” Toyz says. “You might be able to come up with your own combo, but [many b-boys] all generally tend to move extremely similar to one another to when it comes down to the way they just carry themselves in a battle, like their character and attitude. They might have their own signature moves, but they all come in like this, and they’re all imitating particular styles they’ve seen before, or look up to, which is fine. But eventually, as you progress, you gotta realize that you just gotta be yourself.”

Toyz seems to have realized this for himself early on; he’s been making all his money through dancing since he first started b-boying at the age of 12.

You’re not gonna get big by posting a trailer of yourself after like two years of dancing or calling out judges just because you lost.

Introduced to the dance through his brother, Toyz found inspiration in all the move-makers of the ‘90s: Style Elements, Skill Methodz, Breaks Kru, HaviKoro, Footwork Fanatix, Force Force, and of course Lionz of Zion.

In fact, later on, he’d come to be associated with a long list of crews that’s difficult to say aloud quickly without spitting a little: All Ways Rockin’, Lionz of Zion, Beat Whakz and 4F (Flying Fists From the Floor).

But even with such strong (and numerous) b-boy ties, Toyz’s stories about his friends tend to sound like just that: stories about his friends. They’re normal people who like to have a good time, even if they go by names like Toyz and Napalm and Domkey.

It’s just that when he and his friends/crewmates have a good time, sometimes it can end up on YouTube. Then a bunch of people watch it, comment, and debate a lot about Toyz’s ethnicity (he’s Korean American).

But that’s not really the point.

“A lot of kids these days grew up thinking, ‘Oh, I’m in this big crew now,’ and they think they’re famous,” Toyz says. “But just because you’re in a big crew doesn’t mean people know who you are, you know?”

How, then, did he manage to get his name out? Toyz’s method was to do nothing special, kind of, which in turn ended up equating to everything.

“The best way to get yourself known, if you want to get your name out there, is to just do your own thing,” he says. “Get out to as many battles as you can. Win, roast people. You don’t even necessarily have to win battles. If you just stand out, people will notice you.

“You’re not gonna get big by posting a trailer of yourself after like two years of dancing or calling out judges just because you lost,” he continues. “Just do your thing. Just stay humble. Just enjoy yourself. That’s the most important part. Because while you’re enjoying yourself, other people will notice. And eventually, you know, fame and fortune will follow. But for those who purposely seek it, they tend to have a much harder time—they end up bothering others around them as opposed to getting their attention ripping the cypher or just repping [their] crew name.”

Photo by MurphYou get the feeling it’s not the first time he’s been asked that question. He does make a living answering questions.

While other 20-something-year-olds across the country are prolonging their educations in attempts to put off dealing with a dismal job market, Toyz teaches a class himself.

But there are a few items that might seem suspiciously absent from his lesson plans.

One is linked to the fact that Toyz actually looks like he’s having fun when he’s dancing.

“You see a lot of suburban cats that you know get into b-boying, and they kinda lose themselves in that character and try and act all hard and whatnot. They think they’re some tough little hoodlums,” he says. “But they’re not really that at all. In most of the cases, they probably have a really nice home, a really nice family. But then they get in the circle and try and talk all that trash and think they’re tough, but they’re not.

And the other thing? Toyz’s “nerd”-like tendencies and love for gadgets are no secret. But he’s quick to point out that a lot of this loss of originality and tendency to “front” can be attributed to technology.

“Nowadays, thanks to the internet, the moment they see one good b-boy, they all try to imitate them,” Toyz laments. “And they don’t have anyone to talk to. Or any peers to learn from. So they just sit home, watch videos, and they just bite everyone’s moves and style… They just stay trapped in a box. And they’re unable to think outside of it.”

So what, then, is it that ultimately inspires Toyz’s ability to think outside the box? Is it the anime? The girls? The chance to get flown out to countries where marijuana is legal?

“Well, I always tell other people this: I don’t wanna be the b-boy where people are like, ‘Oh, he moves just like this other guy,’” he says. “I wanna be the one where the kids go, ‘Oh, I wanna dance like him.’”

Toyz pauses briefly, perhaps realizing the irony of what he said.

Without missing a beat, he quickly adds, “Or, ‘Oh, I wanna have a crazy style that’s different from everyone else.’ That’s what motivates me in terms of my dancing.”