What Belly Dance Has Given Me

Dance has opened doors to me that I never knew existed.  Being asked to instruct others was such an honor.  Habeeba thought I was capable of teaching others.  I've always kept in mind with my students that they probably have the same fears and concerns I did.  Maybe they think they can't perform, or even do a basic step.  Maybe they've been through difficulties that have them feeling low about themselves.  There's something special about the feminine energy in the studio.  Regardless of age, background, race, profession or body type, we're all there for the same reason, and we all bring different gifts. 

I've learned that each student has a unique talent for specific movements.  Some dancers prefer hip movements, some prefer slow, sensuous swaying movements, and others prefer dramatic turns and stops, posing for effect while making eye contact with the audience and drawing them in.  The key is continuing to encourage students who haven't found the movements their body prefers.  If they study long enough and take time to listen to the music, they will find their own style, regardless of who has taught them the fundamental movements.   It's so gratifying to watch the first performances of my students.  Knowing that many of them came to class feeling anxious and lacking self confidence, and then seeing them perform with a smile- it's a beautiful thing and I feel honored to have been a part of their learning. 

Not giving up and sticking with this hobby has given me is an opportunity to pursue a dream.  My enthusiasm for and interest in costuming led me to a retail sales business.  I met Joharah Cauger in 1997 at a dance event.  She had tables of costumes for sale, and one in particular caught my eye.  It was the most beautiful lavender color and was encrusted with beads and giant crystals.  At the time, it was very difficult to find costumes in larger sizes, and this one looked like it was made for me.  In 1997, $350 was a lot to pay for a costume, but I tried it on and was lost.  

  

I still love the costume as much today as the day I bought it.  Joharah told me that she'd designed it for herself but it didn't fit and she was heartbroken to have to sell it.  She was happy that it was a perfect fit for me though.  We stayed in touch and a few months later, she asked if I'd like to be her Midwest sales rep.  I've been selling for Joharah since then and she has become good friends.   Being a sales rep for Joharah was something that motivated me to enroll in classes at Franklin University.  I'd worked in the medical field for 25 years with no college degree.  Enrolling at Franklin has enabled me to pursue my dream of having a costume business.  I hope to eventually establish a belly dance costume e-commerce site in addition to traveling to vend at regional events.   

Staying Motivated

As I’ve grown as a dancer, I’m much less critical of my body now.  Dance is a part of the Middle Eastern culture.  Everyone does it, so everyone can do it, and there is less self consciousness from Middle Eastern women about the dance.  People dance at weddings, birthday parties and at home.  It just IS.  And that’s what dance is for me now.  It just is.  When the music flows through me, I don’t think about or plan my movements, the music tells my body what to do.  

When I first started dancing and I told people that I danced, the reaction was most often, “I’ll bet your husband likes that,” said with a “nudge-nudge wink-wink know- what- I- mean” kind of tone.   The truth is that the dance was something I did for me.  It was never about my husband, although he’s been very supportive through the years.   In the entire time I’ve been dancing, I think I’ve danced specifically for him 3 times: once when I first started to show him what I was learning, again on our 20^th wedding anniversary at a party, and just recently at a Valentine’s Day hafla.  He’s supportive of my involvement in the dance, but from a personal perspective is sort of over it now.   Richard stood by me from the beginning when I wore my sad little homemade costume and would only dance with the troupe to professional performances where I’m wearing an expensive sparkly costume and dancing solo.  

It’s funny- I was in my 30s when I started dancing and felt uncomfortable with my body.  I was constantly comparing myself to others and never measured up.   It’s a sad thing- what we women do to ourselves- compare how we look to some unrealistic view of what a real woman is.  This is my view of what a real woman is:  she’s confident, holds her head up and is proud of what she’s accomplished.  She is tenacious and fights for what she believes is right.  She lifts up others and yet is humble.  She’s generous with praise and is sensitive in her critiques.  She does not tear down others to promote herself.  She acts with integrity and honesty.   Notice that my definition of a real woman has nothing to do with her outward appearance.  These qualities are what make a person truly beautiful, and that beauty will shine in her dance because it really is the beauty of spirit that shows.

The best dancers and instructors are the ones who make you fall a little bit in love with them when you see them dance.    It’s the smile that really does come from the heart and reaches the eyes.    You can’t help but be drawn in by someone like that.  There are few dancers I’ve seen that touch me in that way, and I’ve been privileged to take classes from a few of them.  Habeeba is an engaging and flirtatious performer, but since she’d stopped performing professionally when I started dancing, I’ve only ever seen her actually perform publicly twice in the 17 years I’ve known her.  Another very emotional performer is Raqia Hassan.  Raqia is in her 60s and doesn’t perform professionally now either- but the emotion comes through when she teaches.  Another performer who is has that lyricism in movement is Aleksey Ryaboshapka.  Yes… a man is able to teach women a few things about how to be feminine.    

Other favorites are Sadie of Denver, Colorado, a warm and very talented performer and instructor with amazing hip isolations; Leila Gamal; another old school performer and instructor who stresses emotionality over technique and  Sahra Saida, a walking encyclopedia of dance knowledge who has dedicated her life to educating women all over the world about the origins of this dance form and whose generosity of spirit continues to be an example to me of how to be a good instructor.    The lessons I’ve learned from these amazing dancers carry through when I teach a class and in performances.  This inspiration is what continues to motivate new students to try this ancient dance form and it's what keeps me so intrigued even after 17 years as a student. 

Majah Hits the Stage

I saw this saying on a T-shirt somewhere:  "my favorite color is glitter."  That's me; always looking for the glitter.  That's why the belly dance costuming was a huge part of the appeal of the dance for me.  

My first belly dance performance was at the Columbus International Festival in 1996.  I’d been taking lessons for just over a year.  17 years ago, beaded Egyptian costumes were hard to come by- remember, there was no Internet shopping to speak of in 1995.  Authentic beaded and fringed bedlahs (bra and belt sets) were very expensive and the only way to buy them was from a mail order catalog or at a dance event from a vendor.   Most dancers made their costumes, and sadly, many of them (mine included) looked homemade.   Not that anyone in the audience would know any different- seeing belly dancers was exotic as it was, who was going to look that closely at our costumes?  If only I’d had a resource like Shushanna’s  “How to Make a Bellydance Costume” website.  I’m sure my costume would have been worlds better than it was.   

My original costume was teal satin with teal and chartreuse fringe.  It took over 40 hours to string the fringe.  My fingers were raw from handling the needles and glass beads.  Rather than hand-bead the costumes, we used sequin appliqués to add sparkle.  My friend Heidi rode to the Festival with me and was still sewing on appliqués on the way to the event.  In retrospect, it was rather a sad little costume.   With the bra and belt, we also wore a full chiffon skirt, puffy harem pants and a sequin overlay panel for a little more flash.  Habeeba considers long hair a part of our costume.  My hair was barely long enough, but what it lacked in length, Habeeba made up for in volume by teasing it into a Loretta Lynn type-do.     

Months of rehearsal and sewing went into the preparations for this event.  As we rehearsed, I constantly compared myself to the other smaller dancers.  I knew I was awkward and my movements weren’t graceful.  It’s easy to look back on that now and realize that I had the same fears that every baby dancer has.   Will I remember the cues?  Will I turn the wrong way?  Will my costume hold together? (!)  Will I make my teacher proud?  Stronger than those fears was the internal fear of looking ridiculous and making an utter fool of myself.  Somehow I was able to power through that- mostly because it was too late to turn back at that point!  I was a bundle of nerves and even though I’d been onstage for other types of performances; singing, band and drama, that was nothing compared to putting myself out there in dance.   

It was a five minute performance- me and three other dancers on a large stage.  I don’t remember anything about it now except the feeling I had when it was over.  I was giddy- I’d defeated my fear, defeated my low self esteem and proved to myself that even a clumsy big girl like me could dance, maybe not so well in my debut, but that’s ok for a beginner.  It’s how we learn.

The Journey Begins

I have hobby ADD.  I've started many kinds of hobbies through the years and would eventually get bored or frustrated and move on to the next thing.  My sewing room is a junkyard full of ideas and half-finished projects.  Calligraphy, ceramics, pressed flowers, silk ribbon embroidery, knitting, cross-stitch, beading ... you name it, I tried it and eventually lost interest.  But dancing is different- I was hooked on belly dancing before I ever took the first lesson.  

It was 18 years after watching Jaclyn Smith’s dance in Charlie’s Angels before I’d set foot in a studio.   It didn't matter that she wasn't a trained belly dancer- I was intrigued by the idea itself.  But, I figured like all of my other hobbies, dancing would just be another thing I’d get bored with or worse, that I’d take a few classes, find out that I was no good at it and get discouraged and quit; adding a hip sash and finger cymbals to the growing mountain of stuff in the hobby junkyard.   I was 33 before I gathered the courage to look for a dance studio.   In the early 90s, the Internet was in its infancy, so there was no YouTube, no Facebook or Google to guide my search.   But there was the Yellow Pages, and that’s how I found my school.  

 Habeeba’s studio was in the basement of a small shopping plaza.  The boom years of the 70s and 80s were gone.  Women had moved on from belly dance to Jazzercise, aerobics and spinning for exercise and my first class was small, with only 6 or 7 students.  We were all novices, but as women usually do, I compared myself to everyone else in the class.   It’s impossible not to compare when you’re standing side by side in black body-hugging leotards and tights in front of a wall of floor-to-ceiling mirrors.   Body image?  What body image?  Pear shaped, apple shaped, straight or hourglass, most women, even those with the most perfect figures, can be intimidated by studio mirrors. 

Every awkward move was reflected back for self critique.  Every move felt unnatural and I was certain it felt that way because something was wrong with me.   It didn’t help that I was taller than all but one other student in my class and outweighed most of the other women by at least 30 pounds.  I did my best to imitate the movements as my instructor demonstrated them, and in spite of that, every week I felt defeated.   But every week I went back and fought through the self doubt and uncertainty and poor self image because the music spoke to my heart and told me I was a dancer.  

The music and movement transported me and eventually I learned to anticipate changes in the music.  Habeeba taught us how to improvise and build on the basic technique we were learning, layering movements for more complicated combinations of isolated movements and traveling steps.   It actually was fun to go to class and for the first time in my adult life, I had female friends; women who shared an interest in the dance, music and culture of the countries where this dance originated:  Egypt, Turkey, Greece, Lebanon and other Middle Eastern countries.

Somewhere along the line, something amazing happened.  I stopped comparing myself to the women in the classroom and started appreciating the control I had over my body.  For someone who had only been body-aware in the sense that I was critical of myself no matter what size I was, this was a new and very cool thing.  I actually liked my plus size body because in spite of the fact that I was a bigger girl, I could move in ways that other women couldn’t.  Ok, so maybe that competitive/comparative thing didn’t entirely go away, but the dance gave me confidence not only in the dance studio, but in real life also.  My journey had begun.  

My Inspiration

When I was a little girl in the 1970s, my mom worked from home as a seamstress. Ladies would come to our house with bags of fabric, notions and a pattern, and a week or so later, they'd come back and pick up a custom-made outfit. My Barbie dolls were the lucky recipients of many new garments made from scraps of leftover fabric. They were very well-dressed Barbies; quite the envy of the neighbor girl who would often "forget" that she had one of my Barbie’s dresses in her carrying case. It was a game we played. She’d forget she had a dress and I’d steal it back the next time we played. I loved it when Mom would make dresses for a bride or a special occasion because it meant Barbie was getting a wedding gown or sparkly prom dress. Better than the wedding gown or prom dress was the belly dance costume my mother made for one of her clients.

To a nine year old girl, the lure of the fabric and glitter was irresistible. I was not allowed to touch any of the work in progress, but just that one time, I did. The yellow and turquoise chiffon whispered, the gold sequins sparkled and the coins made such a nice tinkling noise. I imagined myself spinning in layers of chiffon, the skirts swirling around me as sequins caught the light. I wanted to wear the costume, but more than that, I really wanted to dance. A few years later, in an episode of Charlie's Angels, I watched Jaclyn Smith go undercover as a belly dancer. Again, I got lost in the music and mystery and decided that someday I'd belly dance.

The 1970s were a time of growth in belly dance. Women were becoming more independent and looking for new ways to demonstrate that independence. In the United States, until the 70s when the dance form became more mainstream, belly dance was seen as another kind of striptease or burlesque dance. Serious dancers just didn’t perform belly dance. As women felt more empowered and looked for ways to express that power and feminine energy, belly dance exploded in popularity not only as entertainment, but as a form of exercise and self expression.

One of the driving forces behind that growth in the Midwestern U.S. was my dance mentor, Habeeba. Habeeba is Lebanese-Italian and grew up dancing at family events. She is classically trained in ballet and contemporary dance, but her passion was the dance of her ancestors: belly dance. After spending almost 20 years touring the world performing 4 shows a night, 6 nights per week, Habeeba settled in Columbus, Ohio and opened Habeeba's Dance of the Arts, a dance studio exclusively for the instruction of belly dance. It was the first studio of its kind in the U.S. and it became my dance home. 

Habeeba, circa 1975