I love the statement "I'm just
expressing my opinion". It covers all manner of self importance and
rudeness. Because the truth is, there's no such thing as "just"
expressing your opinion. Nobody speaks about their opinions, especially on a
public forum, without at least hoping that someone will be listening and
perhaps be tempted to change their own thoughts and feelings based on what you
have said. Nowhere is this more true than the internet, which contains more
opinions than it does pornography. I open my Facebook page these days and drown
in a virtual sea of posts about feminism, race and homophobia from my friends,
all of which may be 'just' people's opinions, but are none the less designed to change
or influence the way you think about these issues, even if it is just to add a
bit more fury to an already blazing fire of passionate feeling.
Presumably this is what Randa Jarrar was
thinking when she posted her article titled "Why I can’t stand white belly dancers", which I recently had waved at me by a friend. With such an inflammatory title and scathing
dressing down of women who are appropriating Middle Eastern culture to fulfill
financial or (heaven forbid) personal gain, I can only assume that the whole
purpose of publicly posting this opinion piece, was to make any white belly
dancer who read it feel horribly guilty.
And to my shame, it worked.
For about an hour I felt like a
criminal. Like the worst kind of racist. I'd stolen a social activity and an
art form from another country, one which was clearly loved and adored
throughout history, and actively supported the appropriation of it into a
country that had no rights to it. To quote one of my favorite critics I'd done
what western country's always do - muscled in on another country's territory
and fucked everything up. To women like me, Randa feels she can only say “I’m sure there are people who have been unwittingly racist
for 15 years. It’s not too late. Find another form of self-expression. Make
sure you’re not appropriating someone else’s.”
At the point where I was feeling like
the lowest human being alive, my coping strategies kicked in and I started looking
at this objectively, by considering my attitudes and motivations, as well as
those of my teacher and the ten other regulars in the class I attend. For the
sake of all of our self-esteem, I decided that none of us were racist.
Contrary to Randa’s belief, I did not
choose to take up belly dancing in an effort to steal a precious gem from Middle
Eastern culture, or to propagate racism in any way. I took up belly dancing
because I needed something to get me out of the house once a week, because it's
a low impact weight-bearing exercise which I was in sore need of, but most of
all, because it looked like fun. And it was so diverse! Baladi, Sharqi, Sha abi
(and that’s just Egyptian – I haven’t mentioned the other Eastern styles from
Turkey or Lebanon, let alone get started on the Western ones). The moment I discovered
Gothic Tribal was like coming home. I was so comfortable doing this.
I had never danced before in my life -
not even the two years of ballet which all primary school children seem to
endure, but which I somehow missed out on - and this was one of the few dance
classes on my tiny island that didn't involve a partner in some shape or form.
I certainly did not sign up to the class, cackling with fiendish glee at the
thought of taking something historic and beautiful from the Middle East, and
slapping sequins and western values all over it.
And I certainly am not dancing for the
male gaze - my boyfriend of almost five years has seen me do many things,
including going on rollercoasters, cooking interesting things with fermented
tuna flakes, and vomiting at the side of a road (not all at once - thank the
Gods), but he has never seen me dance before. I've only ever performed in groups at
workshops, all of which are usually attended solely by other women. Not a
single male gaze to be held.
I cannot claim that the west is entirely
innocent. We do have a habit of pinching from other cultures, and thrusting our
own values back in the guise of 'exchanging'. But there is no need for such
hateful shaming - it speaks badly of all of us. Should I feel guilty when I
attempt to sing along to my favourite J-Pop because I have no Japanese in my
heritage? Should I inform my American friends that they aren't allowed to play
soccer because we had it first? If my brother returns from Australia this
summer with a pair of Ugg boots, should I ban them from the house, because he's
not in their country of origin any longer?
Of course not. That would be really stupid.
We are not thieves. We are students. I
study the western take on a Middle Eastern form of dance - I do not behave as
if I own it or it belongs to me. I do not claim belly dancing in the name of
the west, or in the name of white women. I merely feel fortunate that I am
doing an activity which I get enjoyment out of (and happens to do wonderful
things for my core muscles in the process). I get the same enjoyment when I eat
yakitori or put on a corset.
Randa published her opinion because she
feels disgust towards a white woman doing an activity which is an intricate
part of culture in the Middle East. The only motivation towards writing
something like this, is the hope that someone will read it, and their opinions
will change to reflect hers. In this case, it’s written to make white belly dancers
feel a sense of shame – to guilt them each time they perform, and to make them
stop feeling enjoyment in an activity that they love.
I can say now, honestly and truly, that
the only thing that would ever stop me enjoying belly dancing is the attitude
of people like Randa, who seem to regard being white as some kind of barrier
that means I am unable to do this dance properly, and indeed, I shouldn't even
bother trying, because it's an insult to the millions of Middle Eastern women
who did it before me. Reading this article left a sour taste in my mouth that
no amount of Thai green curry or Indian tea was going to shift.
But doing my first solo performance in
Torquay this September might just do the trick.
So I will go to Torquay. I will do the
workshops. I will perform something that I love in front of a group of other
like-minded women (most of whom will probably be white), and see which emotion
wins out – disgust at my appropriation of a piece of Middle Eastern culture, or
the rush of pleasure that I get from enjoying myself.
…somehow, I think I know which one is
going to win.
