Sometimes when I’m writing I wonder if I should let you in on what I really think. Confessions of a neurotic belly dancer, is my occasionally twisted view on things, belly dance. Such as, lately I’ve had really weird dreams that seem to have no meaning at all or they are so Cirque de Sole that to decipher them would be time consuming. I wake up with fading memories of glimmering dancers floating in the air or walking into the moon. The music echoes through a sparkling hillside like a galactic concerto that only dancers hear. It’s a calling but to what is the question.
In the past ten years I have experienced so much in the belly dance world that I often wonder if I knew years ago what I know now would I still dance? Why were specific experiences displayed like a melodrama? I’ve spoken my mind on a few topics that I felt passionate about but I always try to get my point across in a way that at least can be chewed on by others. It’s a choice to either spit it out or savor my perspective.
My naive outlook on belly dance many moons ago seems like another me. I miss her sometimes because that wholesome perspective was so refreshing. I would love to revel in those feelings again. But that’s to be expected because with experience comes revelations that open up the truth. The truth can be very funny, embarrassing or relative to the class you had to take in high school that you hated. I never understood how dissecting a frog was going to make my future better or brighter. I was a Peta fan back then without even knowing it. When I first saw cows tongue and eyeballs out on a market street, I realized that there were limits to what I would eat. I’m just one of those people that if I see an animal alive, I give it a name and it’s off the meal plan. It’s a hypocritical way of thinking I know because the meat section in the grocery store is really no different.
When I saw huge meat carcasses in Mexico being dragged on the sidewalks, I realized that there’s no telling what any of us eat. Egypt introduced me to a part of the Khan el-Khalili that sold exotic animal parts, herbs and spices. There were parts of things for sale that I didn’t know the names for. To be honest, I really wasn’t interested in finding out but it did occur to me that each country has its own food, herb and spice ethics that can be unnerving.
Costumes were very important to me and I used to have 10 working costumes for restaurants and nightclubs at all times. I felt that the number 10 was good luck for my dancing. If a costume was torn or needed repairs, I always put another one on layaway so that I could keep the number 10 going. It probably doesn’t make much sense but once you start your good luck charm, it’s hard to let it slide. I had a friend that would wear her costumes 3 or 4 times and then sell them because she felt they were too old after a few months of wearing them. Costumes for dancers are their signature calling cards and for some, they are always looking for the next costume.
From my Native American days I have always looked for signs to indicate how a trip or dance gig will go. Two black crows going in the same direction was always a good sign. Two black crows going in opposite directions meant problems with the client and one crow leaving its partner meant problems finding the location or a change in my scheduled performance. I could tell if the evening was going to be financially successful according to the way my morning started. The golden fairies always seemed to show themselves in various ways such as, coins on the floorboard of my car or some part of a costume that was previously lost, mysteriously showed up on that day. I even found money in my traveling bag that was crinkled from sweat but yet it was a true find. All these things added up to a really good dance gig or restaurant performance. The days that showcased themselves in delays and slow nights started with disappearing make-up, jewelry and costume parts. I remember a bra turned invisible before my very eyes. When I went to change costumes for my second show, it was not in my bag. When I came home, there it was on my bed.
The ritual of putting on make-up is as sacred to any dancer as prayer. Once we put on the finishing touches our belly dance persona emerges, we become her completely body, soul and mind. Sometimes for reasons known only to the make-up Goddess, nothing goes right. I’ve had my mascara glop my eyelashes together or create the well known spider legs. The smell of fake eyelash glue grosses me out so most of the time they are out of the question. I’ve had eyeshadow look like it was a painted landscape. Lipstick can mysteriously smear especially when a veil smacks you in the face. I’ve had mascara and lipstick streaked along side my cheek and I didn’t know it. I remember getting strange looks but sometimes people who aren’t accustomed to our dance will give you those same looks anyways. It wasn’t until I was in the bathroom that I could see my make-up malfunction. I looked like I had been in a fight and lost. There’s no saving face sometimes, you just have to grin and bare it.
Confessions of a neurotic belly dancer, is my way of saying that after all the glitz and glam is over I’m still me. A little more face paint then usual but my belly dance persona no longer hides away. Funny how much of my life is spent being a belly dancer. What was life like before I was a belly dancer? It’s hard to even remember those days before the belly dance bug hit. There are a lot of belly dancers who think they came out of the birth canal in costume. At least it feels that way. Did our neurosis start then?
In the end I must say that belly dance changed me forever. My taste in clothes became more eccentric and I mix patterns and fabrics together that are layered and rich in color. I love black as the mysterious color that eludes all taboos yet creates its own mystique. Last but not least, all music can be belly danced to because belly dancers are masters at finding the beat of any song. There’s a saying by Maya Angelou (writer) that says, “A bird doesn’t sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song.” I think as belly dancers we are born with the beat of music in our souls. It’s in our nature to belly dance. We don’t dance just to dance; we dance because we have something to say. Margaret Fuller states, “If you have knowledge, let others light their candles in it.” As women we speak to each other in every motion and movement of our dance and in many ways we pass on our stories to each other.
My neurotic confessions are just a way of letting everyone know that quirky is good sometimes and in today’s chaotic environment it’s almost a welcome reprieve.
Photography by photographer prodigy, Vivien Skrupskis
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