“Wow, you belly dance, that’s hot”
“Mmm, so you do belly dancing? So I guess in bed…”
There are just a couple (but I can assure you that I could go on writing a thousand pages novel to list them all) of the most used sentences by who, mostly men, finds out that a woman could enjoy the art of belly shaking. So lovely, isn’t it? Very considerate, right?
It is the same delicate and polite man, among other things, that when informed of the fact that – surprise!! – belly dancing is also composed of a style suited to men only blurts out a clever “That’s soooo gay”.
Alright, it takes all sorts ( to make the world).
The fact is the oriental dance (big surprise: this is belly dance real name!) has ancient and noble origins; it wasn’t a dance performed only in whorehouses, by prostitutes. Of course, then Napoleon contributed to the stereotype, when he arrived in Egypt and decided that all those beautiful ladies were too sexy to be considered women of a certain stature. With the exception of some popular styles danced for the only purpose of sexual provocation, however, this dance was practiced in the imperial courts (and I don’t believe we shall dwell on the distinct meaning that the term “courtesan” has developed over time).
Even leaving aside myriads of psychological and physical benefits that this dance offers, do you really think that the man who raises his eyes to the sky when he only hears about belly dance, even cares that oriental dance can be related to techniques of dance-physiotherapy? I don’t believe so.
Let’s be fair: oriental dance, if danced properly, it is one of the most aphrodisiacs shows in the world and it is equally true that any woman appreciates a polite and fine compliment; many women like to be admired and I say this as a dancer. But from sensuality, the pleasure of watching a beautiful female body moving sinuously, to the automatic thought which leads to imagine that same female body in bed, writhing in passion, I would say there is the same distance that separated Napoleon from Russia.
From the outside, as a viewer, I could understand some skepticism, but I assure you that behind oriental dance there is a whole world of hard work, constant practice, stimulation of muscles whose existence you were completely unaware of, before.
In short, it’s a hell of a job. It takes a lot of sweat to get to do those beautiful movements that so much enhance the male hormones. If the same men watched me and my expressions during training they’d andropause immediately.
Let me tell you a short episode, just so you understand the feeling. A few months ago I took part in an oriental dance show during a feast in my town; it was cold but before and after the performance, I’d go around with oriental clothes: gladiator sandals, large and long skirt and obviously, a bra ringing with shining small medals. Now, ignoring the fact that I have a prosperous décolleté, I would have received much less negative glances from men and women if I had walked by completely naked.
In the popular imagination and belief too many times the oriental dancer is labelled as a a bad person, a woman who does what she does to just catch looks and glances, as a woman who can’t wait to show other women among the public how easily it would be for her to steal their husbands, if she only wanted.
Want to know what I was thinking while I got all those looks? Oh my god, it’s so cold! That’s it. I wasn’t thinking about seducing people or provoking them. I was just cold. Do you think anyone noticed? Do you think someone may have simply thought my goose bumps were not given by the excitement of pheromones in the air but from the cold?
Maybe yes, just the old lady in second row with a wool scarf on her shoulders. But only her. And I still have doubts.
