Sara Ito on Self-Belief and Life as an L.A. Dancer: Billboard Japan Women in Music Interview

Billboard Japan recently sat down with Los Angeles-based dancer Sara Ito as part of its ongoing Women in Music interview series. Launched in 2022, this celebrated initiative highlights extraordinary female artists, producers, and executives who are shaping the entertainment landscape and paving the way for future generations, following the global tradition of Billboard’s esteemed Women in Music honors.

Hailing from Japan’s Ishikawa Prefecture, Ito made the daring choice at just 16 years old to relocate to the United States alone to pursue her calling. Today, she shares stages with major global headliners like NE-YO. Speaking virtually from Los Angeles, she opened up about the foundational beliefs that sustained her across the Pacific.

In a previous conversation, you mentioned that “dance saved your life.” Has your perspective on that connection evolved since moving to the United States?

Hollywood draws dreamers from every corner of the globe—dancers, actors, and vocalists alike. Everyone brings distinct artistic backgrounds and personal philosophies, fiercely protecting what makes them unique. Consequently, rather than hunting for a single “correct answer,” I’ve learned to chase the authentic expression that resonates deep within my core—the kind where I can confidently say, “This is it.” Back in Japan, I often felt pressured to conform and find the socially approved path. Since immersing myself in the U.S., I’ve cultivated a much deeper trust in my own instincts. In this creative ecosystem, authenticity is paramount; the depth of your devotion to your personal style directly dictates your success.

How did you go about discovering that authentic, uncompromised artistic voice?

Dance genuinely kept me afloat. My formative years weren’t without hardship, and honestly, without dance, I likely would have drifted down a very different road. It gave me something to dream about and an unshakable conviction that I would succeed. Whenever despair or negativity crept in, movement served as my release valve. Instead of internalizing my struggles, I translated them into choreography. That was my ultimate salvation. I specialize in popping—a style centered on sharp muscular hits—partially because I wanted to stake my entire existence on that singular impact. While honoring the foundational rules of popping, I constantly strive to channel the genuine emotion of the music in real time.

It’s often said that Asian dancers face steep hurdles breaking into the American entertainment sector. Have you encountered those barriers firsthand?

I’ve found that this environment tends to reward genuine individuality and tangible results above all else. Credentials and age matter far less than whether you possess an artistic voice uniquely your own. My very first professional gig after securing my visa was dancing alongside NE-YO. Out of four dancers, three were Black women, and I was the sole Asian performer. Standing 157 cm (5’2”) tall next to peers with incredible, statuesque frames and endless limbs, I was hyper-aware of our physical disparities. Initially, self-doubt crept in, and I wondered what I was doing there. Eventually, I shifted my mindset. I decided to weaponize my distinct nuance and perspective so that clients would hire me because they wanted Sara, not just to check a diversity box.

Do you view your role as a backup dancer differently from being a solo artist?

Every single dancer is fundamentally an expressive artist. Even when you are performing behind a main act, you are actively co-creating the art. We each interpret the exact same choreography and music through our own lens, bringing an irreplaceable charm to the stage. Moving forward, I am deeply passionate about seeing dancers rightfully elevated and recognized simply as “dance artists.”

This spotlight series celebrates women leading the cultural conversation. Has gender shaped your personal and professional journey?

While societal prejudice against women has certainly decreased compared to past decades, it hasn’t vanished entirely. Women carry unique biological responsibilities like childbirth and frequently shoulder the primary burden of childcare. Because of this, I firmly believe women possess an innate resilience that surpasses men. I want to actively dismantle limiting stereotypes and showcase the breadth of what we can achieve—proving that a teenager who left Japan without finishing high school, saved her own money, and carved out a career abroad can make it this far.

Have you noticed a stark contrast in gender biases between Japan and the United States?

Personally, I have bumped up against xenophobia and racism much more frequently than sexism, particularly during the pandemic. Simply riding public transit as an Asian person sometimes invited hostile glares or verbal harassment. Despite being completely innocent, I felt genuinely terrified, realizing how deeply rooted racial prejudice remains. Even so, the profound joy of connecting with international peers through our shared love of dance proved far stronger. Art and community kept me moving forward.

Have you found powerful female mentors and choreographers in the industry?

Absolutely. I genuinely prefer collaborating with female choreographers. Perhaps because of shared experiences, they inherently understand how to authentically present women on stage. Many of them spent years as working dancers themselves, so they deeply empathize with the physical and emotional demands of the job. NE-YO’s choreographer is a woman, and she is someone I profoundly look up to—she serves as a living blueprint for the strong, composed leader I aspire to become.

Physical longevity is a constant concern for dancers. How do you protect your body to ensure a long-lasting career?

I experienced my first major injury late last year, suffering severe back spasms that landed me in the emergency room in the dead of night. Prior to that incident, I used to skip warm-ups with the reckless mindset of being in my early twenties and invincible. I learned the hard way that a dancer’s body is literal capital. I now understand the critical importance of listening closely to physical signals. When you’re on a grueling tour away from home, shows go on rain or shine—you cannot simply cancel because of a cold. Managing my physical health is an absolute non-negotiable responsibility.

If you could offer one piece of advice to yourself during your rookie year, what would it be?

My first year coincided with landing the gig with NE-YO. At the time, I struggled immensely with body image issues. The costumes were revealing, leotard-style designs tailored to showcase traditional figures, whereas my background was strictly in street dance. I wasn’t accustomed to presenting my femininity so openly. Constantly comparing myself to others—envying long limbs and feeling mismatched in identical outfits—took a heavy mental toll. If I could speak to my past self, I’d say: “Stop measuring your worth against others. Trust yourself and keep dancing your own truth.”

What catalyzed that shift in perspective?

Eventually, the very traits I felt insecure about were embraced by audiences as charming and uniquely petite assets. Discovering that those exact vulnerabilities could be celebrated transformed entirely into self-assurance.

You leaped into the unknown at age 16, a feat many dream of but lack the courage to execute. What would you tell someone paralyzed at the starting line?

When I was still in Japan, I exhausted myself trying to find a pre-approved script for success, mistakenly believing I had to mimic someone else. Coming to America taught me that creativity demands freedom. It is entirely valid to champion your own unconventional path. Whenever I return to Japan, young kids from my hometown approach me saying they want to follow in my footsteps. Taking that initial leap is terrifying, but your bravery might just be the catalyst that unlocks someone else’s courage. That is a responsibility I never want to forget.

Who remains your ultimate source of personal empowerment?

My mother, without a doubt. She has a deep love for Black music, and she’s the reason I was enrolled in a dance studio as a child. As a single mother raising three daughters, she never flinched. When I announced in junior high that I was skipping high school to pursue dance, she simply replied, “Alright, no problem. I’ve got your back.” Her emotional fortitude is legendary; nothing rattles her. She always assured me, “Don’t worry, you can handle whatever comes.” That unyielding foundation shaped who I am today. My mother means the world to me.

Finally, what are your dreams for the future?

My ultimate aspiration is to remain an irreplaceable artist—someone people seek out specifically because I am Sara Ito. I also hope to become a beacon of inspiration that instills dreams and propels others forward, reaching well beyond Japan to a global audience. Without ever losing my profound gratitude for my supportive family, wonderful collaborators, and the environments that shaped me, I want to spend my life giving back through the power of dance.

—This interview, conducted by Rio Hirai, originally appeared on Billboard Japan.

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