PASSION and profession can thrive together. Just look at Thomasian lawyer Les Paul Sañez, who manages to juggle his legal work with his lifelong love for dance.
While pursuing legal management at San Beda University, Sañez cultivated a deepening passion for dance — so strong that it almost diverted him from law. He uploaded dance videos to YouTube and Facebook, even promoting them to expand his reach.
After finishing his degree in 2015, he devoted five years to full-time dancing, immersing himself in hip-hop, waacking, ballet, and contemporary. He studied both the technical and cultural layers of these genres before focusing on open-style choreography and performing, teaching, and producing concept videos.
But in 2020, the Covid-19 pandemic abruptly cut short his dance career, pushing him to enroll at the UST Faculty of Civil Law.
“Pinili ko ‘yong UST, kasi ilang beses na akong nagturo sa UST ng sayaw. Kumbaga, parang may close relationship na ako with the University,” he told the Varsitarian.
For Sañez, 31, law was more than a career shift — it was a response to the social climate. The wave of extrajudicial killings under the Duterte administration fueled his resolve to use the law as a way to serve.
He compared the rigor of law school to the discipline of dance, stressing the importance of mastering basics in both. Still, he admitted that, unlike dance, law left no space for emotions.
“Si dance kasi it evokes emotion. ‘Yon ‘yong wala kay law. Law doesn’t care about your emotions,” he said.
Law school came with struggles — weight gain, reduced physical activity, and academic stress — but he pushed through with the support of his partner.
In 2024, he graduated with a Juris Doctor degree from UST and passed the Bar exams.
Sañez now works at the Energy Regulatory Commission, but he continues to teach dance on weekends at MVMEANT, a creative hub and movement space for dancers and dreamers.
His classes are typically held at The Box Studios, though he sometimes leads independent sessions at other venues like SPACE Studios, depending on availability and teaching invites.
Most of his workshops are beginner-friendly, centered on basic footwork and groove applied to simple choreography. Sessions usually run two hours, from 7 p.m. to 9 p.m.
Balancing these dual commitments, he admitted, isn’t always easy, especially in the Philippines, where pursuing multiple passions at once is often a challenge. Still, he encouraged others to try if they can — but reminded them to accept that, in the end, there’s a higher chance they’ll end up doing the thing that pays the bills.
“Opportunities are not endless,” he said. “Sometimes there’s a drought, no matter how hardworking you are. At some point, you have to be practical. You have to decide what truly matters to you.”
