Parris Goebel has been shaping pop culture from behind the scenes for more than a decade. From Justin Bieber’s “Sorry” to Rihanna’s Super Bowl halftime show, her choreography has defined a generation of movement. Now, with a creative empire built on instinct, discipline, and unquestionable authenticity, she’s ready to take up space not just as a director or choreographer, but as an artist whose influence extends far beyond dance.

Born and raised in New Zealand to Samoan parents, Goebel credits her upbringing for grounding her. “Growing up on the other side of the world allowed me to have my own inner voice,” she says. “I got to figure out what I thought was cool, even if I didn’t know if America thought it was cool.” That self-assurance became her superpower. Long before the world learned her name, Goebel was leading The Royal Family, the dance crew she formed as a teenager. “It just felt like a playground,” she recalls. “There was no pressure, we were performing at my dad’s halftime show, my auntie made the uniforms, I was mixing the music. It was just time to figure out my vocabulary.” By the time she choreographed “Sorry,” she had already spent years refining her voice. “I edited it in my house on iMovie,” she laughs. “That went viral, and it just made me realize all the tools I need are right here, in my brain and my hands.”

That video didn’t just go viral, it shifted pop culture. It also introduced the world to Goebel’s visual language. But even as her career rose, she had to adjust to the industry. “Coming from New Zealand, where everyone’s genuine, to L.A., where everyone’s hustling and climbing, that was harder than protecting my creativity,” she says. “I had to learn how to protect my humility.”

Still, her confidence in her own taste has never wavered. “I’ve always trusted myself,” she says. “By the time I had my big break, my trust with my inner voice was so strong I didn’t care who liked it or didn’t. If I thought it was good, that’s what mattered.” That trust in herself has carried her through an evolution from dancer to choreographer to director, a shift that, for her, was seamless. “I was already directing at 16, 17 without even knowing what directing was,” she says. “It was just in me. I just needed the opportunity to show what I could do.”

What sets Goebel apart is not just her talent but the empathy that informs her leadership. “The older I get, the more maternal I become,” she says. “Especially working with women, I’m really passionate about creating a safe space and I have awareness of mental health. If a dancer needs five minutes, that’s cool with me. I want them to take that.” It’s undoubtedly an approach rooted in her Polynesian heritage, “Our culture is everything. It’s in our DNA; dance, music, community. I think it’s given me a groundedness that artists feel when they work with me.”

Despite her résumé of Super Bowl performances, global tours, and iconic music videos, Goebel isn’t motivated by legacy or recognition. Success, for her, is personal. “It’s waking up healthy, sitting on the couch with my coffee and cigarette, laughing with friends, surrounded by art I love,” she says. “That’s success.” And when asked about legacy, she doesn’t hesitate, “I just want to survive life. I’ve struggled with my mental health since I was a little girl. I create just to stay on earth. Without being able to express myself creatively, I wouldn’t be here.”

It’s a striking admission from someone whose work has become synonymous with joy and power. But it’s also what makes her so magnetic. She’s not creating for fame, but for survival. “It’s the air to my lungs,” she says. “When you’re creating from that place, you’re just grateful to see another day.”

As Goebel continues to expand her creative reach into film, fashion, and beyond, she’s no longer solely operating behind the scenes. The woman who once choreographed the world’s biggest stars is becoming one herself, moving into a space where her story, not just her vision, takes center stage.