I am a belly dancer. At least, I used to be back before saggy stretch marks, breast feeding, and stinky diapers. And I was in between all of that too. Belly dancing is a wonderful exercise. It toned my muscles and let me celebrate the parts of my body that made me a woman and a mother. I reveled in it. So much in fact, that I headed up the Maine Chapter of the Northeast Belly Dance Association in an attempt to be part of a growing community of sisterly love. Or so I thought.
Flashback:
I brought my daughters to haflis and events when they were young and we always had a good time. We feasted, we danced, we schmoozed with other families. I held babies, rubbed expectant bellies, and witnessed some spectacular performances. I figured I would do the same with my son Sam once he was past his colicky scream at everyone and everything stage.
When he was four months old, my husband and I packed him and his gear (which was much smaller than his sisters’ because by number four, I had pretty much decided all that I needed was a diaper, a baggy filled with wipes, and a sling). We arrived on time and paid the suggested donation of $5.00 per person that was strong armed from us at the door.
Now, I am going to digress here. In my opinion, if someone is manning a table that blocks your entrance and says loudly enough for everyone to hear within a five mile radius, “That will be fifteen dollars,” while waving a sparkly manicured hand under your nose and you are struggling to hold a baby, a baggy of wipes and a diaper, a fee is being charged. Why not state that up front? It would not be an offense to anyone to pay an entrance fee. It is insulting to disguise this as a mere suggested donation. Especially for those of us with large families who are being nailed for every child in our entourage. Okay, I am done digressing.
We sat down and bounced Sam and sat and shifted and bounced, and sat, and shifted while dancer after dancer performed. We learned that Sam did not like applause as he decided right away to scream at everyone who clapped. I learned that three hours of belly dance consisting mostly of solos to George Abdo recordings is not only difficult for a four month old baby to sit through, but damn near impossible for a thirty three year old woman to sit through as well. I also noticed that every time Sam cried out, or any other child for that matter made a noise, a row of coin bedecked women infused with a lack of maternal instinct (which seems so anti-belly dance) turned and glared or even worse, brought a finger to their painted lips and breathed: “Shhhhhh” at my baby.
Fast forward six months and another hafli that I attended with my entire family and extended included. All and all, we paid a suggested donation of sixty dollars and received the same treatment as before. Not to long after this event, a dancer who hosts these gatherings suggested to me that haflis were not appropriate venues for children, particularly the breast fed infant.
Six months later found me attending a hafli without my husband or Sam because Drew flat out refused to go. I went with two of my daughters and a friend with her toddler daughter. Full circle, right? A group of multi-generational women should come away with a heart felt experience, right?
No, again we were subjected to the donation scheme (though this time we were told children were free, proving my point that these events are charging a fee, not suggesting a contribution!) We sat in hard backed chairs with twitching kids for three hours before being allowed to participate at the end of the show. There was no buffet table because of a fear of poisoning, and there was only one pregnant belly who was occupied with its duet performance. Packing up the car, I was left feeling bored, tired, and determined to have my own hafli. Which I did half a year later. I sought the advice of those who had come before and put together an event that featured live music, an upfront admission fee, children's activities, a mini workshop, food, and a family centered atmosphere.
Flashback Ends
How can a dance that brings together women, regales and accentuates the childbearing and child feeding parts be inappropriate for the product of these parts? My Goddess, I think a hafli is where we should bring our daughters to teach them feminine strength and women’s mysteries. I think our sons should attend as well to learn to honor and respect their grandmothers, mothers, aunts, sisters, wives, friends, and daughters. I find it hard to believe that anywhere else women would gather to dance, feast, and celebrate their bodies and themselves without their children. The belly dance community has changed.
Today's belly dancers no longer revere motherhood as an aspect of feminity. This community has turned to a younger, hipper, flat stomached dancer. The sensual curves created by breast milk and pregnancy have given away to the sexuality thrown at us from Hollywood. Is the Belly Dance Superstars to blame? I do not think so. I think in a time when anyone can and will teach a class because they have taken a class is to blame. Girls are not learning the art from their mothers here in America, they are learning it from other girls who have learned from another girl, who learned from another girl, eventually tracing back to a mother figure perhaps. If the mother is removed from the craft, then it is only natural that the children are unwelcomed too.
My girls perform with me professionally with Sam and Theo as welcomed attendees. Sam will many times breaks the ice with the audience in his eagerness to dance too. Are there occasional mishaps and odd occurrences that come with the territory of bringing a toddler to events? Of course! But even with a baby on my hip and a toddler trying on the bedlah, each performance is spiritual and moving. Probably more so due to the addition of my children, each of them from the graceful teenager to the breastfeeding infant.
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