Benji Meets World
According to Benji Schwimmer, before he could walk, he was dancing and performing. When his parents—renowned swing dancer Buddy Schwimmer and Laurie Kaufman—softshoed around in the living room in Moreno Valley, CA, Benji kicked his feet to their rhythm in his bouncer seat. “My dad and my mom were both dance teachers, and of course, my cousin Heidi and sister Lacey danced as well,” he says. “It was a cool vibe to be around.” Yet, although dance was in his genes, Benji says he wasn’t very talented growing up. “Heidi is a couple years older than me, so I always felt behind,” he says. “My sister was more of a natural. She just got it. She understood it all.” Benji contends he had a tough time picking up choreography quickly. Instead of giving up, however, he practiced over and over until he perfected each step. His tireless energy and indelible work ethic would later prove instrumental in the making of a brilliant career.
Just Keep Dancing
Growing up in a dancing family had its perks. Heidi remembers dancing with her cousin before they were in an “official” partnership. “We used to pull out Benji’s coffee table and dance on it to ‘Kids Incorporated,’ our favorite TV show,” she says. But, she counts the coaching of Buddy and Laurie as more important to her and Benji’s development as dancers. “The most special thing about growing up dancing together was the fact that Benji’s parents devoted so much of their time to us in training and making sure that we were advancing,” she says. “We were so lucky to have their guidance. It was great to always have that nurturing, family atmosphere.” Benji and Heidi would create their own routines, and at age 13, Benji started choreographing for Lacey and her partners as well. “When we were younger, we didn’t get along as well as we do now,” Lacey says. “We would tease each other, pull pranks on one another—basically anything to make the other person embarrassed. But, one thing we appreciated was each other’s ability to dance. Benji is very creative and it always helped having his eyes for choreography. He was brilliant then and he’s brilliant now.”
For Benji, however, the support stopped outside the family circle. “I was always the ugly kid at school. People called me ‘fag’ just because I was a dancer,” he says. “I was ostracized and angry. There wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t want to quit dance.” Benji lashed out as his detractors, even going so far as punching the bullies who picked on him. But he soon found a way to pour that anger into his dancing. “When I was 17, something just snapped in me. I was like, ‘I can really do this,’” he says. “All was forgiven and forgotten when I stepped out onto the floor. It was electric. I had a lot to prove.”
Competing Years
Benji graduated a year early to concentrate on his dance training. He and Heidi had been paired up on the swing competition circuit for years, and in 2001, they went from second place in the junior division to first place in the U.S. Open Swing Championship showcase division. “That was a huge victory for us because we were the new kids on the block and we were dancing against a lot of people that we had looked up to,” Heidi says. “We imagined ourselves winning forever. We visualized it and planned every step with great intensity and detail.” Heidi and Benji would practice seven or eight hours a day, with the help of Benji’s parents, until they felt the routine met their impossibly high standards. “We were always practice-aholics. We made a choice that we would not leave the judges any room to mark us down,” Heidi says. “We promised ourselves that we would create something that would leave them no choice but to mark us first, because we knew they would not want to give us the championship.”
Yet, winning the title wasn’t satisfaction enough for Benji. “Once I had won and traveled the world, it was like, where do I go from here?” he says. After his first U.S. Open title in the showcase division, Benji sustained a knee injury, which required surgery. He was told that it would take five months to heal. Restless and compelled to forge ahead, Benji doubled up on his therapy and was back on the dance floor in three and a half weeks. He earned another title that gave him enough money to go on a mission with his Mormon church. At the height of his dance career, Benji left it behind to spend two years in the poverty-stricken Mexican state of Oaxaca.
Mission: Impossible
Benji describes his time in the indigenous Oaxaca as trying. Half of the people didn’t speak Spanish; they spoke an Indian dialect. Some days, when there wasn’t any food, they would roast crickets for sustenance. Because of the poor conditions, Benji fell deathly ill. He had become toxic, and nothing was passing through his system. Alone in Mexico City for an emergency surgery, Benji made a deal with God: “If you get me out of this, I’ll never take anything for granted again.” After the successful surgery, Benji was given an option to return home to the U.S. He decided to stay and serve out his time. “I gave up dance, the thing that I love most, for this mission,” he says. “But I was happy because I was learning about what it takes to be a good human being.”
After his two years on the Mexico mission were up, Benji came home to discover that his fiancé was engaged to another man. “I was depressed as hell. I just locked myself in my room,” Benji says. One day, Lacey knocked on his door and convinced him to enter the World Championship competition with her. Two weeks later, Benji added another first place title to his collection. As he began training and competing with Lacey and Heidi, his depression started to melt away. “The first time I hit the floor, it was just love,” he says. “Dance really was therapeutic in that essence because I was able to focus on it. I realized once again what I was missing.”
So You Think You Can Jazz Dance? Even after his triumphant return to the dance competition world, Benji still felt there was something missing. Then one day, a friend of his played a video of Nick Lazzarini, the winner of “So You Think You Can Dance” season one. “I never did any jazz before, but I was like ‘Whoa. I want to be on that show,’” he recalls. “I researched and downloaded as much as I could, and I sort of memorized all the routines so I could imitate them.” Benji soon realized imitation would not be enough. He began enrolling in jazz classes at The Edge in L.A. “The first class I took was Mandy Moore’s level four master class. I honestly didn’t know what the hell I was doing,” he says. “I came in with jean shorts, a polo T-shirt and socks. I had to get permission from Mandy before I took the class. She was like, ‘Let me guess, you want to be on ‘So You Think You Can Dance’?’” Benji didn’t let Mandy’s incredulous questioning get him down. Instead, he came to class every week determined to learn. “Mandy was like, ‘Swing boy, point your toes. Swing boy, do it again. Swing boy, this is called sickling,’” says Benji. On the last day before the audition, Mandy had Benji join a group of dancers to demonstrate the routine at the end of class. “I know for a fact that I didn’t deserve to be with those dancers, but it gave me false hope.”
The Show
Benji auditioned for SYTYCD in California and made it to “hell week” in Las Vegas, where he encountered intense scrutiny from the judges. “I remember being absolutely infuriated with Brian Friedman and Mia Michaels because they were giving Benji such a hard time,” says Heidi. “They couldn’t stand him! I remember thinking they didn’t realize the talent in front of them.” His partner on the show, Donyelle Jones, knew. Her initial impression of Benji, though, was of slight trepidation. “I thought he was crazy,” she says. “Not crazy in a bad way. He just had a lot of energy. I was like, ‘Oh wow, this is going to be interesting.’” Donyelle and Benji hit it off and formed a partnership that became beloved by TV America. “I think we balanced each other out well. There were times that with me being older and a little more serious, I was like, ‘We need to focus.’ And there were times he was like, ‘You need to loosen up.’ He brought out that silly side that I didn’t allow to come out as often,” says Donyelle. “Why take it so seriously? It was stressful enough.”
Benji and Donyelle were serious about their commitment to practicing. They would stay up until 3 a.m. rehearsing, or wake up early to practice before their 10 a.m. meetings with choreographers. Benji, still slow to pick up choreography, felt a need to prove himself to doubting judges. “Brian Friedman hated me! I had nightmares of him laughing at me and making fun of me,” Benji says. “When I drew his name for a piece, I was petrified. I remember walking in [to rehearsal] and he had the eyes of a snake, like ‘You screw up my piece, you’re going down.’” Week after week on the show, Benji demonstrated he could not only handle the choreography, but also ham it up on stage with confidence. The night that viewers voted on the show’s winner, Nigel took the final four out to dinner and told them they could ask any questions except for who won. “It was like Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory,” Benji says. “I asked Nigel if he thought I was going to be in the final, and he told me he thought I’d be the first kid to go home. There really wasn’t much expectation behind the scenes.”
Winning and Beyond
Benji, on the other hand, had high expectations for himself. In the final week, he was hospitalized for dehydration, and half of his hometown studio had burned to the ground. “I remember thinking, ‘Gosh, $100,000 would be really good right now,’” Benji says. When Benji stood awaiting the news of the winner, his cousin Heidi—his dance partner for more than 20 years—looked on. “It was never him vs. me or me vs. him. It was just us vs. them,” she says. “I honestly felt like we were each other’s biggest fans. You win, I win. That’s the way it is.” Benji did win, of course, and the feeling was overwhelming. “At that moment standing there, just Travis and I, I started to cry,” Benji says. “I had held up all the angst, all the trials, all the kids who made fun of me, all the times I felt slow, all the hate from certain judges and choreographers—it all kind of hit me at that moment. I broke.”
What followed was a whirlwind press tour, followed by a full-blown dance tour. But instead of feeling elated, Benji felt guilty for winning. “In partner dancing, you’re able to share the glory. It’s not just you,” he says. “The whole show, I had partners. How is it that we’re doing routines together, but I took the money?” Benji made a promise to himself that he would work hard to be the best representative of the title he could be. “I felt like Miss America,” he jokes. “I’ve got to wear my sash with pride.” He started taking more classes, reading books, taking private lessons and talking one-on-one with teachers in order to become a more versatile dancer. But his effort was not always appreciated. “On the tour, there are no cameras anymore, so there’s a lot less censorship,” Benji says. “Some people were bitter about how many numbers I got. It was like, ‘You won the money, now give us a chance.’ I felt like I wasn’t deserving of the title again.”
Benji University
Post SYTYCD, Benji has not slowed down. He choreographed for SYTYCD in America and Canada. He performed on “Dancing With the Stars” with Lacey. He was featured in the Christina Aguilera music video “Candyman.” Benji has also expanded his repertoire to film, including a documentary about the life of a dancer called “Move,” and a feature film called “Love ’N Dancing” alongside Amy Smart. Despite the fact that he’s working fairly consistently in dance, Benji considers this to be a time of intense study and training. “I’ve turned down some big projects and tours because I feel that I’d be a better dancer if I could just train. I want to pull that off with authenticity,” he says. “I look at it like college. I’m in a period of enlightenment in my life.”
Benji’s training includes teaching convention classes in jazz for Tremaine. “I call it ‘Schwazz.’ Jazz mixed with anything Schwimmer does to it,” he laughs. “I’m really throwing it out there and formulating my own style. It’s really cool to see these ‘trinas’ learning to cha-cha. Now, I can use the language of ballet to describe a swing dance move, and they get it right away.” Benji, the swing boy, has come a long way from those first frustrating days of grappling with choreography. “It’s great to see the gap between ballroom and other dance styles narrowing,” says Benji. “I think it’s really great to be able to incorporate social dance in American culture. I take a lot of pride in saying that I’m a swing dancer. But, I take even more pride in just saying I’m a dancer.”