Back in May, I was enrolled in an anthropology of gender class. We were talking about situations of women expressing their sexuality for their own enjoyment and whether it challenged or upheld notions of female beauty. I brought up my belly dancing class because I find belly dancing classes to be rather unique spaces in terms of women and self-esteem. Here is a place where people (mostly women) of all shapes, sizes, and ages are encouraged to show off their abdomens, move their bodies, and feel powerful and sexy while doing it. When it came time for the local hafla (dance party. It’s pretty much a ballet recital for adults), our teacher left it up to us individually whether we wanted to show our bellies. To my pleasant surprise, most women in the class took her up on the offer—women in their fifties, women with stretch-marks, women of all shapes and sizes were dancing exuberantly, their bellies revealed, and, you know, all of us had a wonderful time. It was incredibly empowering. My roommate and I, at the age of 21, were by far the youngest in our class, and it felt great to be surrounded by older women who still loved their bodies enough (perhaps not every day, perhaps not all the time) to show them off in this image-positive setting.
The other students in my anthropology class were impressed by my story, until I admitted that some (male) significant others of the women in my class (and their children) were in the audience at the hafla. One of my classmates raised her hand to say that this meant my fellow belly dancers were therefore performing for the benefit of their male significant others, and that this fact undermined anything feminist or challenging of norms about the whole experience. I was surprised by this reaction and it’s stuck with me in the months since. See, I’ve been wondering about the supposed tension between what nominally are feminist goals and the fact that most of us enjoy feeling sexy and exploring sexual dimensions of ourselves. I don’t think there necessarily needs to be a tension.
Nevertheless, there’s a gray area here. With so much legitimate and vital concern about the objectification of women, sometimes it's hard to say what's objectifying and what is an empowering enjoyment of one’s sensuality. If the significant others (male or female) forced their partners to belly dance and perform, and/or the dancer felt that only by belly dancing could they be desirable and keep/get a mate, then there'd be relationship and self-esteem issues at work. But, as far as I could tell, the women in my dance class were dancing for themselves primarily; many of them were unsure whether their families would be able to make the performance or not and still wanted to perform anyhow.
I think that in the debate about female sexuality, we often get trapped into arguing between two rather unattractive options, that ultimately, I think none of us agree with: "no sexuality expressed unless its in the safe confines of a locked room with a (single) steady partner otherwise you're being cheap, demeaning, and no one will take you seriously" or "The way to be a feminist is to walk around undressed and have sex with as many people as possible otherwise you're not a feminist". As Levi says in her book Female Chauvinist Pigs, when we look at young women or teens trying to be explicitly sexual, the problem with their behavior is less about the fact that they're pursuing sex but that they're pursuing sex because they see it as being part of a popularity game they have to play with men if they want to be loved or be a real woman. I think the feminist approach should be about choosing how you want to express your sexuality (though I understand that freedom to make this choice is not readily available to everyone).
It was upsetting that the woman in my anthropology class dismissed the potential self-esteem-boosting aspects of belly dancing simply because there were men who potentially may have been aroused by the performance (never mind that there were also female significant others in the audience who may also have been aroused). For one thing, if the dancers want to dance for their significant others as a way of exploring their sexual side, I don’t see why this has to be a bad or demeaning thing. Also, I think it’s great that contemporary teachers of the art have by and large made classes places for women of all different body types and ages. I loved the community that developed in my class, and how positive it encouraged everyone to be. Since beginning to belly dance, I have certainly become more comfortable with my body. I am not claiming belly dancing to be an inherently feminist act, nor a class to inherently be a safe space. Like anything else, it’s not so much the act as the attitude infused in it.
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First off, thank you so much for writing on this topic. I have been belly dancing for three years so this issue is very important to me.
In my experience and the experience of my fellow troupe members, we find that the issue of belly dancing and belly dancers is something that people just don't know what to think about. Women generally think that what we're doing is great, or think we're exotic dancers in harem costumes.
I think it's important to consider the origins of belly dance - belly dance was created by the women in the harem to entertain themselves, not to mention that it helps in childbirth. Many people don't know this. When Little Egypt performed in the United States in the late 19th century, belly dance became synonymous with exotic dancing. Performers often compensated for not knowing they were doing by taking their clothes off... so belly dance got a bad reputation.
In our troupe, we work hard to maintain our integrity and not let people get the wrong idea about us. (We also have to be super careful because we are a college club.) Belly dance is sensual. I agree that a lot of the discomfort regarding belly dance has to do with female sexuality. Even though belly dance is way different from exotic dance and stripping, the same conflict is there - the dancer may feel empowered, but she may still be objectified. It is an issue I struggle with myself. But Belly dance doesn't have to be overly sensual - anything that we do could be performed to a all ages audience. We perform in the Christmas parade every year, which is a family event - but since some people are too caught up in their preconceived notions of what belly dancers ARE instead of seeing that the moves we are doing aren't the least big suggestive, they cover their children's/husbands'/boyfriends' eyes. We also make a point to never perform for male-only audiences, and when performing in intimate settings, make eye contact with the women in the audience rather then the men.
I remember on my first day of belly dance class they asked us how many of us were taking belly dance so we could impress our boyfriends or significant others. I'm proud to say that nobody raised their hands. Every belly dancer I have met does it for themselves. We are proud to have women of all shapes and sizes in our troupe, and I absolutely agree that belly dance is great for self-esteem building.
Your classmates' reaction to the husbands of dancers attending the show kind of shocks me. Why wouldn't they? How about coming to support their wives and their hobbies?
Unfortunately, I don't think a lot of this problem lies in the dancers themselves - it lies in people's perceptions of us.
Sorry to ramble... like I said, this is near and dear to me :)
I've been in dance for 30 years, and in belly dance for nearly 10, including troupe and solo performance. I've been teaching since 2004. The first thing we learn in a new class is that (1) there are no pelvic thrusts in belly dance; (2) you don't touch yourself in sexual ways; (3) there are no men allowed in class, no sons, no husbands, no boyfriends; (4) bellydance is not age-specific; and (5) the most important thing is to feel what your body is doing, and love what you can do with it. Technically (and thank you Erin for your accurate historical comments) belly dance is sensual, not sexual. There's a huge difference.
In traditional dance, the belly was not actually shown. A ghawazee coat was worn, as were voluminous skirts, and in some cases, a caftan that hid most of the body, but with a scarf tied around the hips to accentuate movement. In fact, the whole showing the belly thing was invented by burlesque dancers, and the jewel in the bellybutton was done by Hollywood to thwart censors.
I have so much more I could say, but I don't want to wax ad infinitum on it, so I'll just say this: dancing for your spouse, boyfriend, girlfriend, audience at a cafe, is YOUR CHOICE. If it makes you feel happy, if it makes you feel strong and gives you a sense of body acceptance, that's great, but do it for yourself, and not for someone else.
I have been bellydancing for a couple years on my own from DVDs, and I am about to take a class tonight for the first time to learn it "for real."
I will echo what Erin Amelia said above-- bellydancing was originally made by women, for the entertainment of women. I remember seeing bellydance performances when I was younger and observing the aroused male reactions, and thinking how silly they were being. Even if men (or women) are watching and getting excited over it, the dance is still for the dancer herself and the others in her troupe-- regardless of the audience.
The dance is a celebration of the female body and female sexuality. It's easy to dismiss it as similar to stripping (which I argue isn't anti-feminist anyway, but that's another topic) when people who are uncomfortable with the power of female sexuality are trying to stigmatize it. We don't live in a society prepared to accept these things, but by doing the dance, you are helping educate people.
Having male partners watch the women enjoying themselves sounds to me like healthy sexuality! A partner who truly loves you will love whatever makes you happy as well, and will get enjoyment out of seeing you enjoy yourself. I think that's about the most feminist thing I can think of.
Your description of belly dancing class makes me wish I could take one!
You should check out Margaret Cho's blog/books/videos where she discusses this very topic.
I wrote my women's studies capstone paper in undergrad about this. I think it's great that the belly can be turned back into a source of pride like it used to be.
I work for a woman who teaches belly-dancing, I will be showing her this article! Thank you!