Not just for nightclubs: Egyptian women fight stigma to reclaim belly dance

For most Indians, belly dancing was about Shakira's 'Hips Don't Lie' and Katrina Kaif's 'Sheila Ki Jawani.’ But for those belonging to the birthplace of belly dance --- Egypt --- it’s more than that.

Image source: AFP

That’s why Amie Sultan, Safaa Saeed, and Menna Emam are among the Egyptian women attempting to get it recognised as a critical part of Egypt’s heritage. Working to undo the stigma surrounding belly dancing, they want to change the way it’s perceived.

The origins of belly dancing

Image source: Wikimedia Commons

When we talk about the heritage of belly dancing, there are many contradictory narratives about its origins. Author Shatha Yehia talks about belly dancing originating in Egypt in her book ‘Imperialism and the Heshk Beshk.’

But, since most of the surviving texts detailing the history of this art form are written from the perspective of colonisers, the evidence is coloured with their opinions. For instance, Yehia’s book talks about how the term ‘belly dance’ comes from the term ‘danse du ventre’ or ‘dance of the belly.’ This very term objectifies the dancer and reduces the dance to a sum total of the performer’s body parts.

As a result of these, there are some texts which say belly dancing was a ritual of seduction, performed by enslaved women for men.

Image source: Wikimedia Commons

Others reject this narrative and say the dance was more than that. This school of thought suggests it was a spiritual means of expression, a feminist ritual practiced for and by women.

The stigmatisation and sexualisation of belly dance

Even today, belly dance and belly dancers are hyper-sexualised, and the artists and art are seen as entities catering to the patriarchy.

Not only that, but society’s moral disapproval to the art due to conservatism, makes it hard for women to practice it without backlash.

In the reality show, ‘Love Is Blind: Habibi,’ a man called Ammar Zam breaks up with his betrothed Karma Ben Massoud because she wants to belly dance. He says it’s a big ‘X’ for him and that he doesn’t think any man would accept it. In the end, Karma chooses to leave him and picks her dance, her freedom of expression, over him.

Safy Akef, the great-niece of ’50s star Naima Akef, talked to AFP about how belly dancing still isn’t respected: "No woman can be a belly dancer today and feel she's truly respected," adding, “Once the show ends, the audience doesn't respect you, they objectify you." Notably, Safy, an instructor, has never performed on stage in Egypt.

Why isn’t belly dance seen as a mode of expression and art form?

Image source: Wikimedia Commons

Women are often burdened with other people’s opinions on what they do. Even art forms practiced by women are not immune to being dissected. That’s probably why the likes of Amie and Safaa are trying to get people to see belly dancing for the art-form it is, free from the biases or objectification it is often subjected to.

Menna Emam, a belly dancer, reiterates that: "(During dancing) I feel free and I know how to communicate with people, express myself, move easily and tell people what I want whether I am happy or sad."

Taking belly dance from nightclubs to official stages and theatres

With her school, Taqseem Institute, Amie Sultan is trying to formalise belly dance training. There, students aren’t just taught the dance, but also how it pairs with music, its history and theory.

Tired of it being perceived as entertainment for nightclubs and parties, she told AFP, "I hope to see belly dancing performed in theatres and not just in nightclubs or weddings, I hope there will be oriental dancing shows, and this is our focus in the coming future, to present dance as part of the Egyptian heritage."

Dance instructor Safaa Saeed also talked to AFP about freeing the dance-form of all this baggage so it can be seen for what it is: an incredibly difficult skill that requires considerable practice to master. She told AFP, "We want to have a place of our own -- like the old theatres -- a teatro where we can regularly perform."

Safaa also said, "The idea is not that we are presenting art or delivering a message, but we are working on that through the Taqsim Institute and we are trying to change the prevailing idea about dance as an art, at the same time we are trying to revive the heritage."

Today, Amie is campaigning for the dance to be included in UNESCO's Intangible Cultural Heritage list.

The cultural appropriation of belly dancing

What Safaa, Amie, and Menna are working towards is the “rehabilitation” of the image of belly dance. The real question is whether this would have been necessary if it had originated within Europe or was part of the Western canon.

Belly dance is just one of many art forms that was sidelined and sexualised. There are countless other dance forms rooted in the cultures of ethnic minorities which are often appropriated by Western performers.

Ironically, though, when people of colour practice their art to stay connected to their culture, they rarely get the acclaim that people from the West do. Not only that, but when Western artists incorporate elements from the art forms of other cultures, they are applauded while those whose culture it belongs to, are sexualised or shamed.

That fetishisation and exoticisation continues to be one of the biggest problems. Amie sums it up best: "Now it carries images of superficial entertainment, disconnected from its roots."

Isn’t this a problem many cultures face? From people dressing like Geishas in Japan, to the Kardashians appropriating African hairstyles, when will people’s heritage stop being turned into shallow costumes?