Jonathan Hollander, President and Artistic Director of Battery Dance was close with Euro, who received lessons over Skype. A self-described father figure, Hollander’s mission is to help dancers escape from danger and provide a channel for their emotions.

            “I feel huge amounts of anger and frustration in people who have lived in these conditions which is beneath the surface. Through dance, they can channel that impulse into a concrete expression,” he said. “I think they are saving themselves from violence and hatred. I think dance is their salvation.”

            For Smko, pursuing his dream was not easy. He started dancing in 2003, after learning some moves from his childhood friend Ali Wirya. It quickly became his passion, one that others in his native region of Kurdistan didn’t always approve of.

            “Sometimes he would fight with his family because of dance, they would want him to work or study. In our culture, dance is not very popular,” said Smko’s longtime friend Faqar Fahmy. “Here everything is different. Dancing is not looked at as good. People will ask you why are you dancing. Too many times we had to fight with other people because of dancing.”

            But Smko never gave up. Lacking a formal teacher, he often carefully watched television and movies like So You Think You Can Dance, or Step Up, and studied the moves on the monitor. He danced every spare moment that he could get, and once broke his hand in Fahmy’s garden while trying out a hard new dance move. But still, he kept dancing.

            Now, after receiving several scholarships and offers, dance has brought Smko to America, where he hopes to use his career to inspire others.

            “I wanted people to hear me,” he said. “That’s my goal, to motivate people to start fighting to do something you like.”

            Back home, Smko is already a role model for many, according to Fahmy.

““Everything is changing now. Now in Kurdistan, people are dancing,” Fahmy said. “We are bringing hip hop to Kurdistan.”