Breaking debuts at the Olympics on Friday. Penn alum Sunny Choi wants to take it mainstream.

PARIS — Sunny Choi was in a job that one would expect a Wharton School alumnus like her to have — director of global creative operations for cosmetics company Estee Lauder — when last year she decided to quit to pursue her dream of becoming an Olympic breaker.

It is not an exaggeration to call Choi a revolutionary in this regard. Come Friday, these Summer Games will mark breaking’s debut in the Olympics — don’t you dare call it “breakdancing,” you soulless, commercialized, Reagan-era relic. For months now, Choi, 35, has been maybe the most public face in America of breaking’s attempt to find acceptance and popularity as a mainstream sport.

During interviews here and in New York last spring, she described why she decided to pursue breaking, how the sport tries to retain and strengthen its connection to its origins within the Black community of the 1970s, and what viewers should expect from the event. Her remarks have been edited for clarity.

I was born in Tennessee, raised in Kentucky, and started dancing in Philly. I was a gymnast in high school, and my dad was in the camp of “You need to be the best.” So after every competition, it was, “Why didn’t you do better?” I have personal drive, and there’s a perfectionist streak in me, so I continued with it. But I blew out my knee in high school and had a couple of surgeries, so I gave it up when I was 18.

At Penn, I never felt like I fit in. I was in business school, but I was showing up in sweats and sitting at the back of the class. I knew I didn’t want to be there, but I was doing it because I felt like I had to. It was the road to success. My whole life, I hadn’t allowed myself to dream. I’d always gone the safe route. I was afraid of failing.

One night, I was out late. I was drunk. And there were some people dancing right in the middle of campus on the Locust Walk Compass. I thought, “That looks fun.” Penn had a breaking class, and I gave it a shot. Initially, I just watched everyone else dance because I didn’t have the guts to go out there and do it. Then they had me try being upside down, and afterward, I thought, “I love being upside down.”

Over time, I really fell in love with exploring my body’s physical limits and artistic expression. I had never done anything creative in my life before.

We hosted open practices on Penn’s campus. We’d be practicing with everybody in Philly. Sometimes I would leave to practice at Temple and other community spots. I can remember just one or two sessions where it was only college students. Breaking was the outlet that kept me out of the frat parties. I realized, “This is the community I love. This is what I love to do.”

At that time, Philly was all funk music, all about character and style, more about just being groovy. New York was super-aggressive, fast music, big moves, super-flashy. That Philly style definitely influenced me first. When I danced in Philly, I actually did a lot more footwork. I feel like I’m known now more for the dynamics I do, but initially I didn’t do any of that.

When I moved to New York, that style influenced me. And while New York does that more dynamic movement — part of that is because it’s such a densely populated place; it’s the only way you can stand out — it still has the roots of hip-hop, the roots of breaking. I think you see all of that Northeast in the way that I dance.

When I heard the Olympics had added breaking, I thought people were messing with me. It didn’t match what the Olympics represented in my mind. I thought of it as this platform for very refined and elegant sports. Growing up, I had wanted to go to the Olympics for gymnastics, and breaking is the complete opposite. It’s this really cool, vibrant culture that started in the streets. It’s still a little bit gritty, still really raw. Imagine that in the Olympics. It just didn’t work for me at first.

Working in corporate America, I would show up every day and put a facade on. You’re rewarded for it. “I don’t have to question myself and ask whether I belong here. They’re paying me, so it’s fine.” With breaking, I can’t show up and be a robot. If I do that, I’m not dancing. I’m not showing the world who I am.

When you tell people you’re quitting for the Olympics, they don’t usually try to take you back. My boss said, “You know, I really want you to stay, but I have no business asking you to stay.”

I delayed the decision a lot because of the financial concerns. Historically, there have only been two major breaking sponsors, Monster and Red Bull, neither of which I drink. I figured, “I don’t want to cave on my values for money, so I’m just going to work my [butt] off until I get there.” I saved up so I would be good for all of 2023 at least.

I had to pay for all my flights, and when I traveled, I trained in really random places: outside, a lot of community centers and gyms, train stations. Once I was walking through a big park in Mexico City, and there was a practice happening in a pavilion. All you really need is just some smooth floor. With just one person dancing, you don’t need much space. And we all also participate in local events, where it’s a dark room with a bar with a dirty floor, and you’re in a tiny cypher, and you might kick someone, but that’s what we’re used to.

Now I’m working with Nike and Samsung as partners. Nike allows me to book private space in its headquarters. I can play my own music and take my time.

Life threw me a second bone after I threw the first one aside.

I have a lot of gratitude and pride in representing our sport. Breaking has globalized. It’s a lot more accessible than other sports and platforms, and now we have this extremely diverse world. Nowadays, almost everybody has access to some sort of technology, and you really just need a dance floor, some music, some YouTube.

The question of cultural appropriation is definitely divisive, and I don’t know that I should answer it. Honestly, I do notice that a lot of the people who comment tend to be from outside our community, so they’re not actually breakers. They’re people who have opinions but not necessarily real context into what our world is like today. I actually see very little of that within our breaking community at all.

Most people have been supportive. Breaking wouldn’t have survived if it did not go international and grow, and a lot of people recognize that. Yes, many people think — and rightfully so — that we should be mindful of where it comes from and pay respect to that, but most of that noise comes from outside breaking.

There are a few preplanned combos I’m going to throw Friday, but that’s about it. I intentionally leave a lot of leeway for freestyling. Remember: We don’t pick the music at the Olympics. We literally hear the track when the DJ drops it, and if you’re leading off, you have about five seconds to start. So if you don’t give yourself that room to connect with the music, everyone in the room is going to know … including the judges.

I’m hoping people can watch the event with an open mind. It’s going to be very different from other Olympic sports in a good way. So have fun. Pick a favorite dancer. Be opinionated. Be loud. And just enjoy yourself.