That old devil called Oriental Dance*

Oh, Lord! I´ve never been patient - that is true. It has served very well -on many occasions - and tragically bad - on many others. Life and work in Egypt has taught me to be as flexible, compassionate and understanding as my Soul allows me to be. As long as no one is harming other people, I am fine with it ( after seeing so many pigs riding their bicycles nothing seems to shock me anymore): aliens doing the twist, princes with underwear on their heads, unicorns cooking beans, dogs singing Cole Porter´s tunes, you name it...everything is just fine.

 The one thing I never got used to was the image most people still have towards Oriental Dance.
Fair enough: I´m traumatized by 8 years of life and career in Egypt. The dose of potentially offensive and humiliating situations I faced were enough to crash even the mightiest of all self-esteem convictions. No matter where I go, those episodes of egyptian "REAL LIFE" haunt me like evil ghosts I cannot live without.

How many times I had to hide my profession in order to avoid further sexual harassment, verbal or even physical attacks and other troubled consequences?! How many times I was treated like a cheap (or expensive)  piece of meat (which ends up in the exact same gutter)? How many times I read the thoughts of those around me and felt ashamed - not for me or my craft but for their soulless, brainless, heartless existences?
 Oh, man. I´m tired. Too tired for words.

A few days ago, I could (sadly) laugh at one more of these "Oriental Dancer"´s crazy life episodes.
As I stood in line, for the fourth time in the space of less than one year, to make a visa to a country where I will perform and teach, I was approached by one of their (bizarre) employees:


-Hi! How are you? I cannot believe you´re here again in such a short time! You must REALLY love (fill the blank with a country of your imagination´s choice)...
-Yes, I do. Very, very much.
-Ah: I know what you´re going to do there.
-Really? Good for you.
-Yes, I have another friend who is also a stripper. Her names is Claudia Claudina. You must know her...

Wait! The embassy freaky employee thinks I´m a professional stripper. Fair enough. Should I tell him the truth? "I´m not a stripper; I´m an Oriental Dancer." Should I?!

*?!

Maybe NOT. It didn´t take me long to realize that correcting this employee would not benefit me, it would only drag me into a deeper hole.
It was not the first time I had been mistaken by a professional stripper; I had corrected who assumed that was my profession and the result had been disastrous. Not only the respect level went down the toilet (yes, it seems that Oriental Dancers - or Belly Dancers, as most prefer to call us - can be worse than strippers) but an added dose of comtempt and pity was thrown at my back. No mercy or a second guess.
From what I understood, here´s the deal: strippers promise to deliver the goodies (aka BODY) and they keep their word; Oriental Dancers promise to deliver the goodies and fail to keep their word. So, basically, both professions are on the same track/purpose but the first one is more PROFESSIONAL than the second.
OUTCH!

-No, I don´t know your friend Claudia. - I answered the Embassy´s employee.
-Maybe you will meet her soon. You´ll probably be working in the same venue one of these days.
-Yeah...probably.

End of conversation.
Current mood: TIRED* of people´s ignorance. Yes, yes, yes: be compassionate towards ignorance, evilness, stupidity and so forth. Yes, I try. But it´s tiring. VERY tiring.