New York [US], August 31: Time heals all wounds, according to the Australian breakdancer Raygun, even ones inflicted by strangers online when you suddenly find yourself the subject of global mockery.
Two years after going viral for her captivatingly non-fluid breakdancing routine at the Paris Olympics, Rachael Gunn, aka Raygun, says she's learned to make peace with the "surreal" experience she had at the Games - thanks, in part, to a lot of therapy.
"Paris is now just a part of my story," Gunn said in an interview. "For me, it's more about radical acceptance of everything that's happened and just one foot in front of the other, just trying to move ahead."
As the most famous - or infamous - breakdancer in the world, Gunn is the subject of a new Netflix documentary, "Untold Raygun: Breaking Badly," that debuts on Netflix on September 1. The film chronicles how Gunn came to breakdancing, her rocky path to the Paris Games and the toll that going viral had on her. "I can't just be a meme," she tells viewers.
Speaking from her home in Sydney ahead of the documentary's release, Gunn said she's proud of her routine despite things feeling like a "slow-motion car crash" at the time. "It was important to me to go out there and be myself, to be creative and to not be afraid to be different," she said. "No regrets."
Competing in Paris against three others, Gunn tried to flex her creativity by showcasing moves that paid homage to her home country, including a sprinkler dance (invented in Australia) and a kangaroo hop. But she lost 18-0 in all three rounds and became the subject of online mockery almost immediately.
Her viral infamy only grew from there. Soon, she was discussed on TMZ and Joe Rogan's podcast. She was parodied by Rachel Dratch on "The Tonight Show." Even Adele interrupted one of her own concerts to talk about her. The global attention - which quickly morphed into false conspiracy-laden claims that Gunn and her husband and coach, Samuel Free, cheated to have her qualify - became overwhelming for Gunn, who describes feeling like she was "falling into a dark pit."
Ahead of the documentary's release, Gunn spoke about her online rollercoaster, the criticism she's received from other dancers and why she thinks her gender made her a victim of extra scrutiny. The interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.
For many athletes, competing at the Olympics is usually one of the greatest days of their lives. Two years on, how do you see that day?
It was still such an exciting day, to be honest. I also don't think that every Olympian thinks it's the greatest day of their life. I think most people go to the Olympics and end up being disappointed with their performance. But it's such a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and it's something that I never, ever thought I'd get to experience.
The new documentary feels like an obvious chance for you to tell your side of things. Why now?
I've got distance. It's given me some time and space to process everything that's happened. I've really focused on my mental health, and I feel like I'm in a good place to share my side of the story. There was a lot of misinformation, conspiracy theories and speculation. There was a lot of noise, and I think there's something to be said for waiting for that noise to die down.
You've previously mentioned that you typically avoid watching videos of your performance, and that you avoided watching some of the famous things people did after your performance, like "The Tonight Show" sketch. Have you watched the documentary?
I have watched the documentary, yes. I did have a nice glass, or few, of champagne as I watched it, which certainly helped! I think the distance from it made it feel less raw. It felt less immediate. So, it was different this time, and I've worked on a lot in therapy!
Was that the first time watching your performance at the Games?
No, I had seen the performance itself. I can't remember why, but I ended up watching it and I was like, "Oh, it's not as bad as I thought!"
One big thing the documentary reveals is that you were under no illusions that you were going to take home the gold. As the Games get closer, we see you freaking out because you're fully aware that you're not up to the physical strength of the other dancers, and your main hope is that you don't embarrass yourself too much. You even talk about having a panic attack in the Olympic Village just prior to competing. To the viewer, the documentary plays out like a slow-motion car crash. Is that what it felt like at the time?
Oh, that's fantastic. It was a slow-motion car crash! I was just trying to reduce the impact in whatever way possible!
But no, I also thought that I was being a little dramatic and that it wasn't going to be that bad: As if the world's going to laugh at me! That's a bit silly thinking that, Rachael. But they did - they did for quite some time.
It was tough. I knew that I moved differently. I knew that I had a different approach to everyone else that had qualified. I'd had a very different journey through breaking as well, starting later in life. There was a lot of things that I was aware that people might not understand or might think was particularly weird if the last time they saw breaking was "Beat Street" or something from the '80s. Doing that on the world stage took a different level of guts. But it was important to me to go out there and be myself, to be creative and to not be afraid to be different. No regrets.
In the documentary, you talk about how you toyed with the idea of quitting before the Games but ultimately decided to give it a go because you felt it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I'm curious if you stand by that decision.
It's hard to know what my "Sliding Doors" moment was that led to all this, but I think you reflect on your decisions, you try and learn from things and try to be a better person. Paris is now just a part of my story. For me, it's more about radical acceptance of everything that's happened and just one foot in front of the other, just trying to move ahead.
Tell me about the therapy you went through and what that work looked like.
I tried a few different things to help my mental health. I tried mindfulness and meditation. I did not like that at all. I was just constantly aware of, I feel like crap right now and I feel like the whole world is crumbling. So things that took my mind off things helped me feel better. But dancing took me a long time to get back into. I didn't go back to the gym for a while because I was worried people would recognize me.
I think it was about realizing what I did and didn't have control over. Really, the only thing that I could control was my own reaction. I can't control what people think about me. I can't control what people say about me. I can't control what videos or sketches people make about me. I can't control any of that. But I can control what I do, what I think, and what I say. And it's taken me a long time to get there, but the work has been worth it because I can sit here today and say that you can go out there and be yourself. Just because people rubbish you doesn't mean that you should be scared of going out there and being yourself.
Let's talk about going viral. What do you think the average person doesn't understand or can't even comprehend about what it's like to go viral in the way that you did?
I think that's a really good question, and I think it's something that we need to talk about because it's happening more and more given how explosive the internet can be. I think it's having a really awful effect on people even wanting to put themselves out there. I read an article recently about how young people don't want to dance in clubs because they're worried about going viral. That is just so upsetting as a millennial! To not have that freedom to go out there and dance in a club and be free!
I think we do need to have a real think about what it is that we're clicking on and commenting on and sharing, because if it's a real person, it's a real person! They have a life, they have a family, they have a job, they have people that care about them. It is really tough on the people that care about the person that is at the center of all this. It's not like sharing a funny clip from a comedy sketch. It's not sharing a character. It's sharing a person who's living their life. And so I think that we need to take a step back and rethink before we engage with something like that online.
When I went viral, it was surreal. It made me feel kind of sick in the stomach - this sense of dread. I just thought, Surely, this is not actually happening. Surely, this is a weird, egotistical dream I'm having where I think my face is spread around the world. It was a really strange experience.
In the documentary, we meet other women who are top breakdancers in Australia - so-called B-girls - and hear their anger at your performance. "I was offended by it," says one of these B-girls, Flix. Do you think their anger was justified? How did it feel watching their comments?
Obviously, it's disappointing to hear something like that, particularly from someone that you were friends with. But they spoke their truth. I think it was a really hard time for B-girls, particularly Australian B-girls. There was a lot of harassment and scrutiny. And I know Flix's business was getting a lot of hate phone calls. So I can't imagine how hard it was for them back here on the ground. But I would hope that with time things feel less raw. That's certainly been my experience. I've worked through everything that's happened, but perhaps they need a little bit more time to process all of those feelings.
Speaking of other dancers, Reuters recently reported that some top breakdancers are frustrated by this documentary because they say the sport has become too synonymous with you as it is. What do you say to them?
I mean, yeah! Probably! I hope that this documentary gets people into breaking. I hope it gets them to explore more of breaking. Yes, for some people, their entrance to breaking was through me, but I know a lot of people have found other breakers. I've got friends and family members who know about competitions. So I do hope that there has been some doors opening. One thing in this documentary is that there's so much more to be said about breaking. I just really hope that in the conversations that this spurs that people bring on some elite breakers, some pioneering breakers, some OGs, and they bring them in to talk about breaking. I don't need to be the only voice on breaking. I've never wanted to be.
Sometimes, we see athletes at the Olympics or elsewhere perform badly and we tend to find it endearing. I'm thinking of Eric the Eel at the Sydney Olympics or Eddie the Eagle at the Calgary Games, which also had the famed Jamaican bobsled team that inspired "Cool Runnings." Why were you treated differently? Because we now have the internet? Or something else?
Hmm, what is different about me?! What is different compared to those other examples?! Look, I think female athletes are under more scrutiny. They just are. It's in terms of how they perform, what they wear, what their body shape is - they're too muscly, they're not muscly enough, they're too chubby, they're too skinny. There's a real interest there, and I think that's been a real key part of the reaction.
Lastly, you mentioned before that viral incidents like yours might be having a chilling effect on people putting themselves out there. Having been through all this, what advice do you have for people who might be wary to try something, in breaking or anything else?
I do think that we put in a little bit too much credence in online reactions. But online is not the real world. I get absolutely rubbished online, but I get a very, very different response in person. It's a completely different experience. It's part of our society now that if you end up online, people are going to rubbish you, but maybe we need to reframe it as a badge of honor that you've actually done something interesting. Don't be afraid. It's just the internet. It's not going to bite, really.
Source: Fijian Broadcasting Corporation
