Chazz Cooks

“What is your fondest dream?” I asked Chazz.
“To dance naked in a nudist colony, with no sense of time—only love, no judgment. That would be true happiness.” He smiled, his full lips parting to reveal straight, gleaming teeth.

“Do you remember the first time you felt completely happy?”
“It was the first musical I ever saw. My grandma picked me up in a massive limo, and we went to see The Lion King live. At the time, it was my favorite Disney movie—I watched it religiously. I must have been eight or nine. Stepping into the theater, the limo ride, the sheer spectacle of it all—I was in shock. That’s my first memory of happiness.”
His voice, warm and soft, carried an unshaken joy. That radiant smile never left his face.

“What is your passion, and how did you discover it?”
“When I was thirteen, I was dating a girl who was a dancer. I wanted to be closer to her, so I switched from acting lessons to dance. It was the first and last time I fell in love with a woman, but at the same time, I fell in love with dancing.”
My eyes drawn to his hands—long fingers with glossy pink nails, each decorated with delicate black and white lines and tiny, multicolored crystals.

“What is the hardest decision you’ve ever had to make?”
His gaze dropped. “Allowing myself to live after my father passed.”

“I’m sorry. What happened?”
“He was hit by a car while riding his motorcycle. He wore a helmet, but the impact cracked both it and his skull, causing internal bleeding. The damage was severe. From what I remember, machines were the only thing keeping him alive. And that’s no way to live.”
His eyes remained hidden behind the brim of his sun visor hat.

“How did you cope with the loss?”
“The crash happened three days after my 19th birthday. If I’m being honest, I don’t remember much from 19 to 21. At first, I turned to alcohol and drugs—cocaine to keep up with the drinking, then Xanax to numb the anxiety, both from the loss itself and from the way I was dealing with it.
I was still living in L.A., trying to push forward as a dancer. Two choreographers, Talia Favia and Marinda Davis, took me under their wings. They gave me work, brought me on jobs, and even opened doors for me to tour through California and New York. But no matter what I achieved, I was still drowning in trauma. The depression overshadowed my passion, and for a while, I considered quitting dance altogether.
After my 21st birthday, I had a moment of clarity—I couldn’t keep destroying myself. I was wasting my youth. That’s when I decided to audition for a cruise ship dance company. It gave me structure, a way forward. It forced me to focus on my career, to actually live again.
My dad was one of my biggest supporters, and by continuing to dance, I feel like I’m still making him proud.”

“How did your father support your passion for dance?”
“At first, he didn’t. He grew up playing sports, and so did my brothers. I don’t think he ever imagined that dance could be a career—he only knew the world of professional athletics.
I knew he was proud of me when I auditioned for ‘So You Think You Can Dance’ in Memphis. Originally, I was just tagging along with my brother, who was going to college there for football. But at the airport, my dad surprised me—he flew out with me, just for my audition. That moment will stay with me forever. It was the first time I truly felt he believed in my dream.”

To pursue his dream of dancing naked, Chazz left his hometown, leaving behind his mother and five brothers. So far, his career has taken him to Los Angeles, Miami, New York, Strasbourg, and now Paris, where he dances at the Cirque d’Hiver.

“In New York, I met an Australian dancer who was doing cruise ship contracts. I joined him when I was 21—it was fun. Then we came to Paris for a three-month trial at Disney, but I didn’t pass. Apparently, I was ‘too dark’ to play their characters. Meanwhile, my partner got the job and stayed. He was the one who later found me work at a cabaret in Strasbourg.”

“How was your time in Strasbourg?”
“It was interesting. The theater was beautiful, and the show itself was challenging. But the location was the hardest part. The company housed us in apartments near the theater, surrounded by farmland. At first, it was peaceful. Then, after a few months, I felt isolated—cut off from city life.
We were 30 minutes from the city, and without a car, I had no life outside of work. I hated relying on others just to buy cigarettes or groceries. But on the other hand, I had a lot of time to myself. I drank coffee, smoked, did yoga, and meditated on whether to break up with my boyfriend. That contract taught me how to enjoy my own space, to be truly alone without feeling lonely.”

“Now you’re in Paris at the Cirque d’Hiver. How did that happen?”
“While working in Strasbourg, I spent a lot of time traveling to Paris because my boyfriend lived there. One day, I saw an audition notice on Instagram, and it just so happened to fall on my day off. I knew I wanted to live in Paris—I didn’t care what job got me there.
The plan was to finish my cabaret contract, take three months off, then start at the circus. But then Covid-19 happened, and I ended up back in Florida.”

“How was it to be home? What do you love and hate about Tampa?”
“Let’s start with what I dislike so we can end on a positive note.
In my experience, Tampa is full of rich, aging, closed-minded people stuck in the past. Racism is openly displayed—it disgusts me. It’s also deeply homophobic and transphobic, which makes it a bad fit for someone like me. On top of that, there’s a lot of violence. It’s just a low-vibrational city. It doesn’t match my frequency.
But what I do love is that my family is there. The beaches are beautiful. And I appreciate that veganism is growing—at least when I visit, I can eat well.”

“As you know, I work with words. Some words are more beautiful than others. Do you have a favorite?”
“Rapture. It was the title of my first dance in Miami—the moment I realized I could dedicate my life to this. I have so much love to give, almost too much, and ‘rapture’ captures that feeling. It’s everything I want to express.”
He moved his hands as he spoke—like a dance of their own.