An Inspired Chat with Telice Summerfield of Oakland

Telice Summerfield shared their story and experiences with us recently and you can find our conversation below.

Hi Telice, thank you so much for joining us today. We’re thrilled to learn more about your journey, values and what you are currently working on. Let’s start with an ice breaker: When have you felt most loved—and did you believe you deserved it?
I’ve felt the most loved in dance spaces I’ve had the privilege to curate. My dance battles are more than competitions — they are sites of joy, celebration, and community. If I had to choose the moment when I felt most loved, it would be at the battle I hosted on August 30, 2024, at the Oakland Museum of California. That night brought together over 400 people, and it felt historic. My family even flew in from different parts of the country to support me — and because of my complicated family background, their presence meant everything.
In that moment, I knew I was loved, and I also knew I deserved it. My measure of love often comes through my ability to give, and that event was a reflection of that. I had worked tirelessly to bring the space and vision to life — from awarding $1,000 cash to the overall winner, to gifting a free touchscreen laptop to the youth champion. The love I received was directly tied to the love and effort I poured in. The embrace from my family, my community, and beyond replenished me tenfold. That synergy — of giving and receiving, of effort turning into love — made it one of the most unforgettable and affirming moments of my life.

Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
A former UC Berkeley student, Telice Summerfield grew up inspired by the Hyphy movement, earning the tagline that “Turfin’ is a way of life for me.” As she describes it, Turf transcends dance — it is political, narrative performance art that transforms everyday spaces, like BART platforms and public markets, into stages for self-expression.

Telice also created a virtual platform during COVID called PxssyPower Dance, a collective empowering women movement artists globally to connect, create, and uplift their communities. She has curated and hosted cultural events across Oakland that celebrate Turf as both a community practice and a living archive. Some of her events are described below as:

Who Got the Moves? — a Turf dance battle at the Oakland Museum of California’s Friday Nights at OMCA, blending 1v1, youth, and all-styles contests under DJ Nick Fury’s immersive beats.

Black History Month Dance Battle at OMCA — featuring solo and women’s “7-to-Smoke” tournaments, spotlighting Turf’s narrative power and honoring Black women’s contributions to the culture.

Prescott Market Dance Battles — grassroots community showcases that bring Turf back to its neighborhood roots, transforming a redeveloping West Oakland marketplace into an intergenerational stage of joy, resilience, and storytelling.

Turf Workshops at Yerba Buena Gardens — taught sessions that introduced new audiences to the art of gliding, grooves, and storytelling.

These efforts are central to Turf’s resurgence — a revival that has seen Oakland dancers gain national visibility through platforms like Red Bull Dance Your Style, while local institutions like OMCA embrace Turf as a defining cultural art form of the Bay. Telice’s work continues to nurture this legacy, building spaces where movement, identity, and community converge.

Okay, so here’s a deep one: Who were you before the world told you who you had to be?
I’ve always been a dancer. Some of my earliest memories on the dance floor foreshadowed my calling. As a child growing up in the midst of family hardship, dance was my therapy — the one place I could release my worries and feel like everything would be okay. Whenever I was overwhelmed with frustration, moving my body brought me back to balance. I understood very young that dance was more than self-expression — it was a tool of refuge and resilience.

In high school, that same spark guided me into leadership. I was active in student government and naturally gravitated toward bringing people together. I led with resonance rather than superiority, listening closely to my peers and working with them to create real change. From organizing spirit rallies to fundraising for senior activities, I made sure our progress was visible and meaningful. I graduated as senior class president, carrying with me both a sense of responsibility and the joy of building community.

At UC Berkeley, I had to find my voice again as a small fish in a big pond. I joined student organizations like the Black Student Union, organized protests, mentored peers, and even tutored students at San Quentin. Dance remained my anchor, but now it also became a bridge. Performing on BART trains pushed me to share something deeply vulnerable and close to my heart with the world. That experience sharpened my confidence, my public voice, and my resilience. BART became my first real stage, and it was there that I claimed my identity as a true street Turf dancer.

Today, I focus on creating spaces for others to thrive. My goal is to ignite the spark I recognized in myself so young within others, especially youth. I believe the brightest stars shine brighter when they help others shine too. My gifts are dancing and bringing people together — and my mission is to grow both, building creative and community work that evolve hand in hand, creating lasting infrastructure for my community’s future.

If you could say one kind thing to your younger self, what would it be?
If I could say one kind thing to my younger self, I would begin by telling her how proud I am of her. I have grown and evolved in many ways, but at my core I am still the essence of that young girl — the one who loved to dance, laugh, play, and find joy in community. I love who she was, and I love who I’ve become because of her.

I would tell her that her path is perfectly designed for her, and to trust it fully — trust her heart, her decisions, her journey, and trust God. I would remind her that she is worthy, that she belongs, and that she is so abundantly loved. As long as she stays true to what makes her feel most alive, everything else will fall into place.

I would tell her she doesn’t need to prove anything to anyone — she was divinely created. I’d remind her to walk with confidence, to take nothing personally, and to hold gratitude and grace along the way. I’d share that her dance journey will expand beyond her imagination, so all she needs to do is stay the course with diligence and joy.

Most importantly, I would tell my younger self that she is beautiful inside and out, and that I love her exactly as she is. She doesn’t yet know it, but she is the reason I am so fiercely myself today. She guides every step I take, and for that, I am endlessly grateful.

Sure, so let’s go deeper into your values and how you think. What are the biggest lies your industry tells itself?
I think one of the biggest lies in the dance industry — especially in Turfin and other street dance cultures — is the idea that we’re better off on our own. Too often, dancers either cling to selective crews or focus only on individual success, without imagining the bigger picture of our collective growth. We sometimes treat each other like competition or dead weight, when in reality, unity is the only thing that will elevate us beyond a regional impact.

History shows us that Turfin was built through solidarity. The movement would not exist today without moments where dancers stood together and carried the culture forward. Yet, our current politics can feel exclusive, and the industry often reinforces individualism over community.

I used to embody that same notion — that I was better off on my own. But over time, I’ve learned that I cannot execute my vision at the scale I imagine without community. The only way Turfin will thrive is through unity. My mission now is to create equitable ways of uniting us, while expanding our access to wellness resources, so that we can gather, create, and grow to our fullest potential. We are not better off alone. We need each other to matter, to survive, and to ascend.

Before we go, we’d love to hear your thoughts on some longer-run, legacy type questions. What is the story you hope people tell about you when you’re gone?
I hope that when I am gone, people remember my unwavering commitment to both my craft and my community. I want to be remembered for my deep passion for Turfin, for dance, for movement, and for wellness — and for how I used those gifts to build spaces of belonging. My greatest hope is that the cultural impact I’ve made continues to ripple for generations, through the infrastructures I’ve helped create and the communities I’ve helped strengthen.

I want to be remembered for my kind and brave heart, for my resilient spirit, and for the ways I uplifted others along their journeys. I hope the themes of my story include collective empowerment, creativity, boldness, originality, love, grace, forgiveness, belonging, and communal celebration. More than anything, I want my work to live beyond me — to inspire leadership in others and to remind people that we rise highest when we rise together.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://linktr.ee/tuuhleacee?fbclid=PAZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAacjMf7EyTa_M16sBvv40GL7uH0Vt8cPwvz9cURPWd-SXEG3FL8db6MJSpAKLw_aem_ABiEQHh8xH5JkZzkhUES5A
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/telice-summerfield-48b0421b0/

Image Credits
@shinigamimedia
@shotbyguerrilla
@dreamncolorphotography
@moraleyes.jpg
@the_plug_mgnt
@bak9a_photography
@toshiromata
@nms.visuals