I´ve often been accused of speaking too much and too honestly about the REALITY of Dance in Egypt. The only side most people seem to want to see is the glamour of the dream: DANCING in EGYPT - as if this was a sacred seal that assures a dancer´s quality. It can be and it may be not. For me, Egypt is MY SCHOOL, the place where I remembered what my Soul had forgotten; for other dancers, Egypt is nothing but an empty name they add to their real name for marketing purposes. Nothing more.
Although I owe the knowledge of my craft to almost 10 years of living and performing with my men (aka orchestra) in Egypt, I am not blind. Or, better said, it is exactly because I had that* experience that I am not blind. Seen too much, lived too much, also know too much (for my own good).
The world of the women you see in this vídeo seems very far from the world I lived in Egypt while performing under contract in the best venues of the country. I may fairly say I was treated like an ARTIST half of the time and like a prostitute the other half. The passion I have for this dance balanced it all.
Not even the fancy cloths, orchestra, stages, well earned fame and glitter could erase the MENTALITY that still pervades in the country, the same mentality that sees every dancer as a prostitute that one may love to seeing dance but would never admit in the family (not as a wife, not as a daughter, not as a mother, not as a sister). This is the truth, darlings.
The double standards of the way I was always treated bothered me for a while but only until my skin got thick. VERY thick. From sexual harassment on a daily basis to bosses who presumed I was their servant; from ex-boyfriends trying to stop me from working ( "my woman cannot be a dancer: that´s shameful for me") or even trying to kill me; from other dancers sending me the police under false accusations (illegality, depravity on stage and even drug´s possession); from, from, from. I´ve seen it and been through it all.
From all the people I dealt with, MY MUSICIANS were - perhaps - the ones who most respected me. They SAW me kicking men´s ass when they offered me jewels, Money and fancy marriage proposals in Exchange for Stardom and material comfort; they saw me handling (by myself and with lots of snakes around me trying to bite my legs off) the whole artistic machine, music, shows, clients and all the headaches that working in Egypt includes and admired me for the way I did it; they KNEW how honest and proud I am and how I never sold myself in exchange for favours or career opportunities. They KNOW ME very well.
Aside from my musicians and even when the package was shinning and the heads bowed to me I KNEW what everybody REALLY thought about me after the show, the lights and the glamour was gone by the end of the night.
I didn´t mind. I truly LOVE Oriental Dance, you see...more than LOVING IT, I KNOW IT and that* makes all the difference. Even if most of the people around me did not respect what I do, I DID. That´s the point*.
When I see this documentary (check out part II and III) I cannot stop myself from crying. I´ve seen these girls; I´ve watched them at street weddings I insisted to attend, brought by the hands of my musicians. Although we never worked in the same places, I occasionaly saw my path crossing the path of one of these girls and the shock of their condition never left me indifferent. More than a disrespect towards Oriental Dance, they represent a disrespect towards WOMEN. I´ve said it and will repeat it a billion times: Oriental Dance will not be understood and appreciated as it deserves until Women are not understood and appreciated as they deserve. These are two sides of the same coin.
I sigh. I feel sorry for these women because they are also ME. The only thing that separate us is circumstance: they were born within a very poor egyptian family. I was not. That´s all.
Some tears roll down my face - they are inevitable.
Then I breath and know* - with a renewed conviction* - that there is a GREAT JOB to be done.
NOW*********************
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