Cairo, the 15th December, 2009

“My very own lesbian statement (?!)”

In any artist’s career there’s always a bit of compromising. Many dancers/singers/actors, etc sleep their way to the top, others step on colleagues to reach the same hot spot and yet others – like me who hate to be a bastard! – rise on my way up in an honest way that doesn’t fit the world I am living in.
But…that doesn’t mean I don’t compromise. Oh, nooo….

It’s true that I don’t dance naked like others do, wear lingerie in the place of a dress – like celebrated dancers do in order to call the public attention and be the talk of the town (very clever marketing act!) – or even sit on men’s laps or flirt with rich guys in order to have work or whatever…sorry but this is NOT ME.

I compromise in small things that can turn into something funny and, sometimes, ridiculous.
In Egyptian weddings where people want, most of all, to dance themselves and have fun, I have to allow people to invade the stage and virtually forbid me to dance just shaking around and going crazy with them.

I do whatever I wish to do in my shows, choose the jobs I want to be part of, my musicians, dancers and assistant. I need to be surrounded by people I respect and feel comfortable with and always do what’s in my heart and not what others tell me to do. This is a luxury I cannot live without and yet there are small things I have to just let go and compromise.

On my regular work, I have to make photographs with the crowds, celebrate marriage anniversaries and…tchan, tchan, tchan , tchan… sing people “Happy Birthday to you”, dance to it and pose with the candles and the cake and the whole thing. It seems simple but, believe me, this is a LOT of compromising for me. I feel uncomfortable, out of my space and function BUT I have to do it.

“LESBIAN STATEMENT (?!)”

Tonight there was a strange and rather scary situation due to my little compromising.
How did I end up being photographed with a birthday cake in front of me and happily holding the breast of a sweet Egyptian lady?!
I wonder where this photo is now.

In the middle of all the dancing and singing, I said my sincere “Happy Birthday” to a guest during the show, the joyful song was being played by my orchestra and I prepared myself for the official photo with the anniversary girl when I noticed that, somehow, my hand had landed on one of her breasts and I didn’t notice it.
Upppsss…
I might have searched for her hand or such for the photo pose and I didn’t JUST landed my hand on her breast, I grabbed her breast as if I was grabbing an fresh, juicy orange on a hot summer day. I mean, I did it with gusto…
Upppsss…REALLY…uppppppssss…
I felt mortified and I can only imagine the result of this incident.
Again and again…where are these shots portraying me holding a stranger’s breast?!
You see…This is the problem about compromising. I am out of my element, I become clumsy and feeling like a fish out of the water.

If the sweet girl is reading this – and I seriously hope she is – please understand:
You’re welcome to my show any time. It’s a pleasure to receive you and all your anatomical parts.
I think you’re lovely and I wish you the happiest birthday ever but your breast was not my dream purchase or my fantasy.

Next time you come to see my show, wear a warrior’s battle shield or avoid asking me to sing along with you, the cake and the candles.
I still feel embarrassed…