Shyness isn't nice

"Shyness is nice, and shyness can stop you from doing all the things in life that you'd like to" The Smiths. May I just delve into honest self reflection here? When you're 69 you do a lot of reflecting on the past. So many odd memories pop into my head from some deep recess of the brain, and I often go on a quest to find some visual or audio that will support my recollections, which is why Youtube is my social media of choice. It's easy for me to go down some deep rabbithole of obscure past pop-culture events, or songs I remember that defined certain places in time. I can then connect with how things felt, or smelled or affected me emotionally during that particular time. From the 1950s throught the 1980s the arts ruled and shaped our every waking moment if you were young and aware. I was hyper focused on art trends. As far as our individual lives, aside from occasional snapshots, we have no documentation to refer to what our experiences were. When we die, it all goes with us, untold, unseen, unsung... especially if we are shy. And shyness is no joke. I think I suffer from Hyperfixation, an extension of shyness, where I watch a movie or listen to a song or read a book over and over and over. I think it's because I never really lived the life I truly wanted, and so I find some element of past pop culture that reminds me what I longed to be. In reality the first 19 years of my life were spent mostly in one neighborhood, on my bed, in my room, lost in books or music. Living life vicariously. Afraid to try new things. My father was the God of the house and I was told not to speak, that what I said didn't matter. His was the voice that mattered and I was to be a quiet extention of him. I was afraid to venture out. I was afraid to talk. Afraid to go to college. A million thoughts swirled in my head, I wanted to escape, so I got lost in intricate day-dreams. Stories in my head that I elaborated on, of being an interesting person who impressed people in my imagination. I had resigned to myself that day-dreams were as real as any actual experience. When I closed my eyes I would be anywhere and anyone I wanted. That suited me fine. What does this have to do with Belly Dance? Well not much in general, but in my particular case, everything. How I had the guts and drive to make a living out of dance was uncharacteristic. I had some great times, I went to the places of my daydreams and met wonderful people. But I'm not sure I would do it again, knowing all I now know. For one, I am very affected by the concept of belly dance as cultural appropriation. I am so envious of people who have a culture they can proudly be part of. Since this subject has come to the forefront of the Belly Dance world, I wrestle with whether I should dance or not, whether I should ever have taken to performing and teaching a cultural dance that was far from my little non-descript working class neighborhood in a town where neighborhoods were defined by gang names. There was no specific culture there, except possibly learning dances off Soul Train. Just ramshackle homes and dogs running in the street. Plus being of mixed ethnicity, staying in my own lane would keep me from doing anything, because my lane is empty. Or cluttered. So if I'm plagued by whether my dancing is ethical, I'm also plagued by the shame of looking old, and how that squares with the image I'd always had of how a dancer was supposed to look. Thankfully performing is something I do when I really want to, when I think I'll be accepted for what I am. Young people are kinder and more open minded these days, for the most part. It's a far cry from how we working dancers of the past looked at anyone over 35. Dancers often discussed how many wrinkles this or that dancer had. We harshly judged aging dancers. I thought dancers should give it up early - "die young and leave a beautiful corpse" type of thing. How I got to this point of still trying to eek out a living in dance is a bit pathetic. I'd like to say it was because I loved to dance so much I didn't want to stop. The whole "dance is life", "I express myself through dance" thing, blah blah blah. No. it's because I've made bad life choices, that left me no choice. And that's where shyness comes in. I guess I should be proud I was able to do as much as I did with what little self esteem I had. I no longer had to day-dream. But still, I could barely talk, couldn't stand up for myself. I pushed myself as much as I could, but I could have done so much more if only I could speak up, approach people, advocate for myself, for things I really wanted. Yes being shy kept me, and still keeps me from living a life I would have looked back on with pride, rather than looking back with so many regrets. I know this isn't what dancers, who would like a role model for longevity in dance, want to hear. I don't like admitting it. I believe I still dance in hopes of finally getting to do the things I really always wanted, which is a fallacy since I'm still too damned shy to even ask for things. If I have one piece of advice for young pro dancers it's get a civilian job too. Don't rely on dance. If American, get a job that pays into your social security and unemployment. You're going to need those. I know a few who married rich, a few from generational wealth, and they can live on someone else's money. But if you're the average dancer, heed my warnings. Better yet, have dance be your hobby. Challenge yourself, buy those gorgeous costumes, and find a fun community of like minded people to bond with. So I'll wait to hit publish and think over how honest I really want to be. I don't want to disappoint, but then again, is anyone even listening?

The Pandemic, Bellydance in time of Quarantine

2016 Was my Last Post. No one Saw what was Coming Next. Geez, an entire lifetime happened since my last post. From 2016 on, I was going along merrily teaching at DanceGardenLA, with a lot of students & a lot of performances. DanceGardenLA was THE place for Belly dance classes. Several regular teachers, workshops, recitals, It was a kind and warm community like no other. Plus I was teaching at various other locations, and classes were hopping. I was enjoying a particularly creative time in my career, choreographing for troupes of students and professional troupes. There was a yearly event called "LA Legends of Bellydance" which I gratefully was included as a teacher. Students would come from around the world to study with various teachers for a week. 

 I was producing yearly the the big Gala for "Cairo ShimmyQuake", LA's largest Belly dance festival. It was an extension of several Theater Productions I coordinated "A Choreographers' Collective" and "A Choreographers' Eclectic". Audiences really packed the theaters back then. From the "Flowers of the Desert" performances to my personal producer endeavors, There were lots of butts in seats. I mention this because live Belly dance shows are dead in LA as I write in 2023. Dance is dead here. Classes are dead here. I'll go into that in detail in a future blog post. 

I was doing more out of town teaching, which was something I wanted to pursue more of. In 2019 the world seemed wide open.

  DanceGardenLA changed owners in early 2020, but we seamlessly rolled right back into our usual full class schedules. A student of mine from Wuhan started mentioning that her family and friends back home were sick and dying. She said there's something so bad out there that no one is talking about. This shook me up, as I prayed this new plague would subside and stay within small parameters. We all know what happened in March 2020. It was the last I would see of most of my students who vanished from the bellydance world, or at least from my classes. 

  But the new owners of DanceGarden were smart as whips & were able to not miss a week, as classes went online. I'd show up in the studio in mask & stay far from owner Lauren, also masked and manning the Zoom link. It was a rocky and weird start to the new reality, one we thought would be over soon. Students from around the world were showing up in the little Zoom tiles, and that really opened my classes to new audience. A new creative way to express ourselves became one of my favorite parts of my dance career. Making dance videos staring myself & my students. I think this was me in my most sincere authentic form. Little did we know this would be the method of performing for several years. It seems like a lifetime. 

                                                Keep creating through the hard & lonely times

Seeing the clever videos in the worldwide online shows, I got a lightbulb in my head that we should honor the best of them in some way. I thought of a kind of Academy Award of Bellydance show. Lauren, the co-owner of DanceGardenLA brainstormed the idea of a film festival to go with it, so a new showcase was born The "Raqs Film Festival" and "Raqsi Awards" show. We had videos submitted from every corner of the globe. With the angst of pandemic, the videos produced were heart-wrenching & entertaining, reflecting the times of loneliness we were all facing. 

In 2023 I was assisting in the 3rd International Raqs Film Fest. Though many dancers had moved away from filmmaking and back to live stages, the collective experience we went through created a new space for dancers to be creative. I hope dancers continue to explore film as a medium.

A wish I could say the pandemic subsided and in-studio classes filled up again, but this hasn't been the case. For me at least. I continued holding a few online only classes, and my regular studio classes aways have Zoom students tuning in.

I reread my blog to see if any other times in dance were as bleak as 2023, but for me, this is the worst. I finally am seeing the end of my time of relevance in the dance world, unless some crazy stroke of fate strikes new lightening bolts of energy into my dance career. Here in LA, dance is so dead, and there are so many teachers and producers just beating that dead horse. It's tragic to see the shows with only a handful in the audience.

So my final post coming soon will be a rant about how Belly dance got to this place, where making a living wage is no long possible, except for a few young beauties dancing the club and wedding scene. And what will that rant include? The insidious, insipid, vapid (redundant right?) world of Social Media. 

2016 Death & Despair

There are a good number of posts I've written in the past years that haven't been published. Mostly ones that were way too personal, way too honest. Since I've dumped Facebook and Instagram for a while (another post I will probably write soon), I decided to visit my blog to see if I really wanted to continue with it as a means to communicate. More as a means to be seen and remembered. Isn't that what everyone on social media wants? Isn't that why I can't take it anymore?

This was a 2016  post that didn't see the light of day, and looking back I can remember the feelings of doom, of loss. But the last sentence really resonated as foretelling. 

I really did need, and use all the strength I could muster. 2020 was horrible in every possible and unbelievable way imaginable. 

My strength is still sapped and I'm suffering from a sort of PTSD feeling. Terrified and hiding. 

I hope I can find a well of strength to call on soon. In the meantime I'm purging the things around me that contribute to my stress. Will dance stay a part of my life? I'm not sure. In the meantime, 2016 was one f**d up year:

 Good riddance 2016. You've been relentlessly cruel you capricious brute. Sadness, shock, fight or flight? It's been a wake up call for the frailty of a world I loved.

    The first sorrow of the year was expected, yet bittersweet. The death of Merle Haggard, whose music was the soundtrack for a happy time in my life as a young adult,  appreciated all the more as possibly the last thing I could connect to my father with. "Ramblin' Fever", "The Runnin' Kind" I could relate to in an aching way, it was a freedom I longed for.

    The next blow set me reeling. I wrote about the death of Prince and the relationship to Tarab in my last blog post. It would be best to read it to capture the sense of loss that astounded me. My not being a person to care one bit for celebrity, it was his art, his genius that captured me.

    The next big blow was personal. A close dance friend from the '70s Joanne Domenici, a mentor of sorts for her calm demeanor & wise comforting words, passed away quickly after a diagnosis of a fatal cancer. How could someone so dedicated to healthy living leave this world so quickly, just as she was beginning a new chapter of work retirement & a new life of travel & grandchildren? She wasn't old, it wasn't fair. I miss her every day.

    The last blow possibly set me reeling more than any of the aforementioned tragedies. I have done a lot of soul searching as to why the election of a man like Donald Trump to the highest position in the world would slam me against a wall, & I think I have uncovered the very personal & ugly reasons. We all have our personal journeys that shape our worldview, & here is mine, as it relates to the recent election:

    I was born in the American '50s, when assimilation to the Anglo/Saxon world was key to survival & success. Only this year have I discovered through DNA, that my father's claim of being pure Basque was either a complete & total lie (wouldn't be surprising as lying was a way of life for him), or there was a deep family secret kept from him - that he was at least 40% Native American & the rest a combination of Iberian Peninsula, North Africa, West Africa, South & East Asia. Not surprising at all actually for a New Mexico native with deep roots, but deeply shameful & life altering if it was known in those times when it was illegal for blacks to marry whites, & Mexicans, etc were to be kept separate from whites in much of the USA.

    That I heard the "n" word on a regular basis among some family & family friends as a child, & that all manner of prejudice was the fabric of white life in the '50s & early '60s, a life I was supposedly a part of, came up against a conflicting deeply personal reality: I had brown skin.

     Because children played outside all day in the California & Arizona sunshine where I grew up, I was different enough to attract the ugliest comments anyone could inflict upon a child. I remember with laser clarity the following occurrences: I was called the "n" word by fellow students. "Give me the ball black ass" was an elementary school chestnut from a boy with a face full of self righteous indignation. "Beaner", "Taco Bender" (or "Vendor"?) I could never figure that one out. A grown man yelling out of a car window "Hey Injun Joe" as I walked to school in pigtails. It was no wonder that when an Armenian girl finally came to my school, I looked down at our hands side by side & was relieved to see someone was browner than me. I had grown to hate myself.

    I kept all these insults a secret, since there was a deep shame in being called something that was the antithesis of all that was "acceptable" in my life in those times. I was supposed to be a white girl, but somehow I wasn't treated as one in the outside world.

    As a teen, & a young woman, as all young women, daily sexual slurs were hurled by all manor of older men. Not sitting on a creepy old boss's lap was grounds for having to leave a job I loved before being fired. Other deep humiliating secrets.

    Listening to the Orange Man (I can barely speak his name) hurl insults verbally, not to mention on Twitter, of all things, brought back in stark reality the face of that smug bully in elementary school demanding the ball from me. All that was painful & cruel about the time I grew up, was suddenly a world white people wanted to return to. It was payback time for perceived losses, & the insults have been gleefully lobbed all over the internet, the schools & the streets of America. Mean is back, with an angry vengeance.

    So if you prefer to call me a bleeding heart liberal, one of the people who has brought down this country, so be it. I have tried, but I've failed to be tough. I'm a born empath, a care giver, overly maternal, & that will always be at my core. I'll never feel good enough, & if you read my blog you may notice the overabundance of self deprecation. I'll knock myself down before you do it.

   But 2016, you've made me stronger. A new emotion - anger has taken over a previously soft place in my soul. I've wanted to hurl insults at mean internet tolls, but my desire to be gracious (& common sense) overruled. I've thought of writing wild conspiratorial fake news stories for internet sites, because I know there's a good buck to be made & a sucker born every minute. But I just can't do something so deceptive. So this new strength needs to be processed & I'll see where it takes me. I get the feeling I'm going to need all the strength I can muster.
   


   

   

   

Dance because You Can

  I guess you could say I've had an epiphany of sorts since my last sorry post. I was losing interest in dance, feeling like I just wasn't going anywhere and my better days were behind me. I felt like if I couldn't have a prestigious career then it wasn't worth the bother. And probably most of all I was practicing ageism on myself, influenced by the belief that the old need to move on & make way for the young. Find a rocking chair & fade away.

  Sometimes you need a good dose of reality, a knock on the head, a wake up call. You don't get to this age without people close to you falling ill, being injured or leaving this earth way too soon. And lately I feel like I'm getting slammed with bad news, enough to break my heart. It certainly makes you do some soul searching, & makes you so grateful for what you have & what you can still do.

                                                                This is 60. March 2016

  For today I am so grateful that I have no aches & pains. I am so grateful that I can still dance. I am so grateful for the dear people I've surrounded myself with. I'm grateful for every day I wake up.

  And so I recently put the eyelashes on, put the costume in the bag, & headed off to perform in my comfort zone - a small venue with live music. I hadn't prepared, didn't know what the musicians would play, I tried practicing around the house a bit but decided I was better off just leaving it to chance. But I went without reservation, which is more than I can say for my usual fussing & balking. I did it to celebrate this newfound gratefulness, to honor my friends who don't have the luxury of that choice: to dance or not. Because if you can do it, then why not? Why not say "I've survived, I'm still here & I'll dance while I still can".

  I watched a documentary on Loretta Lynn, one of many older artists who has inspired the younger generation. Musicians tend to have a reverence for their elders that dancers don't have. Dance can be a little superficial. Young & beautiful = respect. Old = has-been. But why do I have to care about such shallowness? If I can still dance, can still express myself, then I should. So from now on I will try on my new attitude & just do what I want. Isn't that one of the benefits of old age? The right to not care what anyone else thinks, to just do what I do because I want to? I'm going to ride that wave a while, in honor of those who can't. With love.

Slipping Away

   Belly Dance, you've been my identity for almost 40 years. You almost left me a few times, but then you'd come back in a new way, breathing new life into me, new reasons for dancing. Through longevity & serendipity, I've attained a certain amount of respect, a tiny amount of recognition. But I'm starting to feel the blood flowing quickly out of my dance veins, & I don't know if I'll be able to stem the flow this time. I just might have to let her go - my alter ego as dancer. The heartbeat is fading, & I don't think anyone will notice if one day she slips away for good. That's when you know it's time to bid farewell.

  So an obituary of sorts for this once dancing girl: She did it as a lark. She wanted attention & didn't know another way to get it. She didn't really love it, she didn't really invest in it. Her dancing was shallow & average. She was thrown into a new culture that she never fully embraced. She was an "It" girl for a fleeting moment, & she had many falls from grace. Yet she kept trying. She kept reinventing. She started caring & wanted to get it right. She would feel confident, only to be torn down, she never really believed the compliments, yet sometimes she thought she just might be ok. Because deep down below the glitter & glamourous costumes, the eyelashes & hair, was still the unbearably shy, sad child, the one who tried to be invisible - & maybe this was the best way for her to hide. It was a facade - an artificial & deceptive front.

  I don't expect anyone to show up at her funeral. People move on, & in an instant one can be forgotten. She wanted respect, she wanted recognition, but she didn't put in the work to deserve it. Yet she persevered & had many successes she was proud of. Was it a wasted life? I don't know. Will anyone remember? Maybe a few. So maybe she really did care, maybe she cared too much.

Dance is Not Fair! This is over 30 Years of Experience Talking!

 You've fallen in love with Belly Dance. It speaks to you. You've been inspired by a teacher & a community of dancers. You want to take it as far as possible, maybe be a professional, or a serious hobbyist who performs often. I am thankful for you. There's nothing I love more than to share this passion of mine with others who are motivated to learn. But so often I find myself licking the wounds of students who find their hopes dashed by the harsh realities of dance. I've personally licked my own share of wounds & would like to share the wisdom of my experience. This is geared towards the American dancer, but no doubt stands true for many other countries.

  Let me say right here & now. Dance is NOT fair! ...And belly Dance is no different.

1. The rules of normal life, the cliches we see on memes, do not necessarily transfer to the laws of dance. "If you work hard you will achieve success" might be true in other life pursuits, but it doesn't mean a lot in dance. Hard work will be rewarded for some who also have other desirable dance assets, but for others, hard work needs to be for the love of dance only, not for the possibility of working or being chosen for a dance company or performance.

2. You will see dancers who have put in minimal effort rise to enviable heights. This is so frustrating for long time students who have put in blood, sweat & tears learning the intricacies of Belly Dance, only to see some young beautiful upstart come in for a few months & start being wooed into companies or hired for jobs. Stop trying to figure it all out. It is what it is, plain & simple, no complexities.

3. If your teacher said you can be any size, shape, & age to Belly Dance, she is telling the truth - if your desires are to enjoy the process of learning, form friendships, perform at haflas & amateur showcases. If you take the teacher's word to mean anyone can be successful as a professional or in demand Belly Dancer, you might be very disappointed & confused.

4.  Yes, looks & youth can trump talent & experience. Belly Dance training may not even be necessary for some troupes to hire a dancer. There are professional Belly Dance companies who actively recruit jazz & contemporary dancers rather than look to the belly dance classes. They are looking for uniformity, beauty, youth & the ability to learn quickly.

5. You may be a whizz at learning choreography, & congratulations for a having a great skill! But often a student who feels they know a choreography really well, may not be executing the movements well at all. They often feel confused about why they may not be chosen for a company when they know the dance well. Knowing what step comes after what is only a small part. It's how you do the steps that counts more.

6.  You may be the most reliable person in the world. You may always be at the beck & call of the director or teacher, to the point of even obsequiousness. Then why do you see the flakey dancers who are never on time, or generally give the director headaches, be chosen over you? Who cares if they are talented as hell, it's not fair!  Well there you go, truer word was never spoken.

7.  Or the flip side -  you see the student who is a brown noser & you find it extremely annoying. She may even resent you or sabotage you because you are looking like a threat. You see her getting jobs she doesn't deserve, because she knows who to butter up. But - this one won't last, no need to fear. If you are good enough, she'll eventually be on the losing end of this scenario.

8. Competitions are subjective. They will never be fair, unless you're the winner.

9.  The sleazy girl, who no dancer likes or respects, is getting good jobs. You know she's undercutting, she's being less than decorous & the rumors are flying. Yet she's on the hot list for the clubs & parties. Maddening, irritating, but chances are there's nothing you can do to change it.

10.  You may be a victim of racism. Yes it is rampant, no matter how much we'd like to think otherwise. Your race or ethnicity alone might keep you from those coveted jobs.

11.   If you are already a professional dancer, there will come a day when you dance better than you ever have. You will finally feel your dancing is the way you've always wanted it to be. On that day you will probably be too old. Suddenly the jobs start drying up & troupes stop asking for you to perform. Belly Dancers are a little more fortunate than others. A beautiful dancer who keeps herself in shape can easily last through her mid 40s. Even then, she will often be overlooked & replaced.

12.  You are a respected teacher. You've paid your dues, you've got a lifetime of experience to share, but you can't get on that good workshop circuit. You see a dancer video go viral, sometimes warranted, sometimes not, & suddenly she's out there as a "master". You see teachers short on talent, but long on self promotion become a hot item for the name recognition. You may be deluding yourself about your abilities. You may not come across well in videos, or just never have anyone discover them. You may hate to promote yourself, suffering from a bit of "Tall Poppy" syndrome. You just can't get a break.

And this is where I leave it, because, yes even after close to 40 years making a living as a dancer, I have had my share of rejection. At different times I've been too skinny, too tall, too old, no name recognition, not attractive enough & the list goes on & on. Yes I still have dreams & goals for dance, but they may never materialize. And after all I've done it just doesn't seem fair. Point well taken.

                                                 

The Movie "The Turning Point", & the Joy of Being a Mentor

  One of my favorite movies is "The Turning Point" from the '70s. Not only because of the magnificent dance scenes with Mikhail Baryshnikov, but the timeless theme of the sacrifices dancers make. For so long I related to the Shirley MacClain character - becoming a wife & mother to the detriment of devoting a life to dance & the possible successes that could have been achieved, but at times I suppose I more resembled the Anne Bancroft character - the professional performer who milked every drop out of a fading career. But recently watching the movie, I realized I had crossed a new threshold when I related to the older, respected ballet coach, Madame Dakharova. Young, up & coming dance stars sought out Madame for one to one coaching - & one scene showed exactly why: a seemingly simple step was being shown with a nuanced tilt of the shoulders, & the budding pro ballerina was struggling with getting it right. Madame looked natural, mature & refined doing this movement - yet when we see the student, resplendent onstage, performing with American Ballet Theater (played by real life ABT ballerina Leslie Browne) she still doesn't get the shoulder movement correctly, giving her a coltish, immature look, as technically glorious as she was. And this was not intentional, but a real life example of the difficulty of nuanced, mature dance.

                                                       

  Here in my second half of life, I have the good fortune to have attained a position of Dance Mentor & Coach to many of LA's most promising professional young dancers, as well as to dedicated students with a passion for our dance form. It is an honor I don't take lightly, & with my always shaky feelings of self worth, an honor I am not sure I'm worthy of. I often tell myself, if you stick around long enough, you'll gain respect. Perhaps it's my overabundance of maternal instinct or possibly some overactive nurturing hormone or gene that draws me to this position, or possibly draws dancers seeking me out for council. Whatever it is, I am more than thankful for the opportunities it has rendered.

  I am so impressed with this new generation of dancers. Let's face it - it's now a whole lot more complicated than it was when I was in full professional mode:
1. There's the videos opening up the whole world, where we can see every style of dancer from every country with a click of a button. To be an original in this day & age is near impossible, when it's all been done before.
2. The jobs are few & far between & usually require a dancer to form or join a troupe, & almost always clever choreographies are required.
3. A dancer now needs a lot of training. Cross training, refining, perfecting technique. These dancers are better than their predecessors.
4. Competitions are often the doorway to a successful career. The stress, the preparation, the thrill of victory & more often the agony of defeat have made dance a sport, requiring not only the artistic values, but the values required of the athlete.

 The young dancers that seek me out have their eyes wide open. Their good training is firmly in place, & even more importantly, I feel blessed to work with dancers with unique styles & a true passion. I often wonder what I can offer, not wanting to disturb the balance these talented dancers have developed. Most often my advice is something to the effect of "Be yourself. Stay yourself. Continue to grow, but don't change because you think another style you've seen might be better, or that you feel you should dance like 'so & so'. Cut your own path."

 I have choreographed for troupes, although I warn them I am not a commercial choreographer & my style is probably too quirky & theatrical for mainstream parties, etc. I remember an interview I heard with Elvis Costello, how he would be embarrassed to bring new songs to the band, wondering if they would snicker, or if they were too personal to be shared. I get that, I relate. Showing choreographies to talented pros can scare me to death. Will they look at me blankly, thinking "this is total crap"?

 And the one thing I've realized I can't offer is the choreographed solo. To me Raqs Sharki, or the Belly  Dance solo is a personal journey, optimally improvised. 99% of the time a solo choreographed by someone else doesn't look right. Isn't entertaining. I could make more money if I could offer this skill, but it's almost an ethical issue, showing my age I suppose.

 Yet still they seek me out, & I adore them. And like Madame Dakharova in "The Turning Point", I believe I do have something to offer - those subtle things only fully seasoned dancers have achieved &  the (hopefully) sage advice of someone who has been there & done that. Perhaps a mentor is a motherly figure, someone to help navigate the journey through this daunting profession.

 But how fortunate for the older dancer to have respect of the younger ones. I think my generation regarded elders as the enemy (a holdover from the 'don't trust anyone over 30' era). How lovely that these new generations have somehow been instilled with such a high regard for experience & for artistic styles of the past. Like the Millennial musicians who still revere the Beatles, or the blues, I have been so impressed with the new generations. And what keeps an elder dancer more on her toes & more engaged than a talented young dancer seeking out some knowledge? They are my muse, my reason for not giving up.

  This has been a gift and a blessing, & possibly the most rewarding part of my career. To be the best I can possibly be for these trusting proteges, I will continue to learn and grow, to try to stay one step ahead. To understand the new world of dance & not be stuck in the past. The rest is all there inside me, from the decades of blood, sweat & tears, & I am most happy to share this. In this way, perhaps a little piece of the past, & selfishly, a little piece of me will live on. What more could a dancer hope for?

 

 

Is Improvisational Belly Dance Obsolete?

 I've been thinking about this - does improvisation have a place in this day of belly dance competitions & Youtube? There is no denying that it's a new world, & our dance is transforming, as the stage for performance changes. What makes a good performance, & what doesn't? What makes one competitor better than another? Can one go out there & wing it anymore, hoping for the best when one really only has one shot?

  Improvisational Oriental Dance was the hallmark of the 1970s club days. A dancer typically performed to live music 6 nights a week, and possibly several shows a night. A dancer had to be ready to perform to any song & any style; to good music & bad music; to make it look natural, beautiful & entertaining. Improvisation was the skill that allowed the dancer to walk out the door with dance bag in hand & be automatically prepared for anything the night might hold.

  And there was an element of uncertainty & even audacity about each performance. There was always that possibility of magic, what some call "tarab" or athletes might call "being in the zone". Like jazz musicians, we had our own little jam sessions nightly, smoky rooms with dance intertwining with music - perhaps a moment of weightlessness as the music seemed to carry you like hands on a ouija board.

  Not to say that euphoria happened with every show. For each performance where it all came together, there were probably ten performances that were total bores. Not to mention nights where one seemed to have two left feet, or shimmies that just wouldn't materialize properly. But the beauty of improvisation in those days was that there was that possibility, & if it didn't happen one show, well there were twelve more that week where it all might come together in breathtaking harmony.

  I must admit I am woefully set in my ways when it comes to an Oriental solo. I cannot do a choreographed one to save my soul. Even to a canned song I've heard a thousand times I would never think of going out there & doing the same movements to it time after time. But this is where I'm falling behind in the performance space of today's online & competitive dance. The choreographed solos look better on video.

 If you only have that one shot in a competition, or you have that one performance that will inevitably show up on Youtube & define your ability, does one really have the luxury of improv when one could possibly fall flat on one's ass so to speak?

                                                             Doing what comes naturally

 Today's dancers have every gesture, every hand movement, every nuance choreographed, & the result is a polished, professional look. If you want your name known by your videos, it's important that you bring on your best stuff, no leaving it to chance. Improvisational dance to canned music just doesn't seem to translate as well to video because it is a medium of imperfections. In an intimate live setting with musicians those imperfections are forgivable because the dance is a process, not a finished product.

 As I browse through videos of competitions & performances, I see beautiful young dancers with impeccable technique & clever steps. I like what I see, even though something is missing. I guess what is missing is what Oriental dance used to be - not so much clever & crisp, but free form & fluid - amorphous. But who has time anymore to watch a 45 minute Belly Dance solo develop? Four minutes is pushing the attention span of most video browsers. So I totally see the need to pack your best stuff into those four minutes - don't miss a chance to hit that beat with a new & innovative move. Make sure your dance is practiced & perfected.

 So if a slight hint of insolence is detected on my part regarding the slick new style of Belly Dance, I admit I have a kind of love/hate relationship, but that's ok. Time marches on & I'm not one to fight it - it's a global stage & the competition is fierce. I've talked to younger dancers who say they wouldn't stoop as low as to dance in a club or restaurant - that they are stage performers, & that makes sense to me in a way. It certainly brings our dance form into the realm of serious art. And as much as I'm sounding like an anti-choreography curmudgeon, in actuality I produce yearly theater productions entitled "A Choreographers' Collective" & "A Choreographers' Eclectic" featuring group choreographies by some of the finest in the business, & I teach a weekly choreography class.

                                       

On being an Older Dancer, Changing Identity & Acceptance

  I brought my memoirs into the present recently, but I don't want to stop there & sit in my rocking chair. There's so much I have to say about this dance, about the present & about the feelings that come at the end of an almost 40 year career.

  After going back & reading my story I really regret that I only started studying Belly Dance seriously after my performing career had ended. There's something that comes with being a young professional dancer that makes them (us) feel they can put the training on pause. As a teacher I had to swallow my pride & realize there's a lot I don't know. The advent of Youtube & easy access to dancers from around the world keenly brought into focus my mediocrity.

  So as an older dancer I often find myself in workshops surrounded by hobbyists & young pro wannabes. I'm the one who doesn't drop in dramatic fashion to the floor, the one who doesn't always remember the choreography, the invisible one.

  The change in a dance career begins slowly - you're not even sure it's really happening. Suddenly you get passed over for a job. You hear friends whisper about a show they did as a group & realize you weren't invited to perform. You look in the mirror & notice the subtle changes, but convince yourself you still look pretty good. But pretty good isn't pretty young, & in the professional world of Belly Dance, youth is mandatory. I'm talking about parties, restaurants, nightclubs - paid work. This insidious rejection becomes more difficult to ignore, yet you fight to not succumb to the reality that your career is almost over. You are no longer young, you are no longer beautiful, you are no longer wanted.

  You know it's all over for you as a professional Belly Dancer when working troupes don't even pretend to be interested in having you perform with them. It's assumed by all parties that you are not working anymore. I have gradually become OK with that. Is a matter of fact the last thing on earth I want to do is go out there trying to make money performing. My last year at Burger Continental (& this was 2013) I imagined when I came into the room, finger cymbals blazing & the costume a little more modest, the audience must have thought "Yikes, this one's old". So I quit, & that part of my career is signed, sealed & gone for good.

  So what do you have left if you aren't ready to hang up the old bra & belt? Teaching is the logical progression, but it wasn't something I was comfortable with, especially since I hadn't really taken classes. Jazz & Ballet, yes, but Belly Dance - not since that first year way back when. But teach I did, & it's taken me 20 years to finally figure out how to best bring this dance form to my students. The fortunate part for people like me is the dance world has changed. It's now all about workshops & showcases. The older ladies are invited to dance as the classic Divas, & that's a good thing. Our audiences are comprised of dance students & other teachers, & we/they are more forgiving of the old, the heavy, & other "flaws", considered to be repugnant by the general public.

  Maybe it's harder getting older if you spent half your life depending on your looks, I'm not sure. I guess there are plenty of women out there getting their faces "fixed" who weren't in a business requiring beauty. When you age you don't realize it as much because you don't feel different. You feel 20 inside, yet the outside clashes with the inside & you can't seem to make people realize you're the same free spirited young girl. They see someone old when they look at you.

  It always feels like a dream - like this is just a movie of my life & I'll eventually go back to the real me & shed this old skin. But then you come to accept that this is it. It's gone by fast, & you better make the most of this life, even as an invisible woman.

With fellow '70s dancers Zahra Zuhair & Nabila at 2012 Cairo Caravan's 1970s Bellydance Panel

  I don't want to scare the ladies who are crossing over into this older age business, but there's no denying it's not for the faint of heart. But the good part is it matters less & less. I am very fortunate to have many young friends in the business & they are respectful & genuinely interested in the knowledge that comes with years of experience. I am so grateful for that, & it's one of the main reasons I find old age bearable.  Being a mentor brings me satisfaction & pride. Passages are hard, but if you're lucky you find a new & rewarding identity.

What's Past is Past. The end of my Little Story.

  I've told my story. I know there's a lot I've left out - some intentionally, some from sheer lack of memory. It's just a little story, comparatively speaking. Now Belly Dance has become global, thanks to the internet. From the USA to Egypt to Russia & beyond, we are all interconnected in a way we never dreamed of in the 1970s when I embarked on this dance journey. Dancers now make a living traveling the world teaching & reach worldwide fame from their videos & social media savvy. In comparison my little career was small potatoes.

Current Photos by Michelle Niellose

   But the 1960s, 70s & 80s were a million times more magical & mysterious than the world we now live in. The music, the fashion, the free feeling that anything was possible, & everything was allowed. What sticks with me most are the things that haunt me. A memory of driving away nightly from a Hollywood club with the windows rolled down through the empty streets - blasting Elvis Costello's Get Happy in a drunken depression, longing for a far away love. The laughs the dancers shared - ducking low in the dressing room while a riot broke out. Hot tubs & cocktails in the snow while on the road & silly inside jokes to pass the monotony. Smells, feelings, hazy dusty memories, with no photos or videos evoke such melancholy longing for something I'm not even sure really existed. And in retrospect what happened off stage meant more to me than the actual dancing. In retrospect it was a lonely life.

   As much as it seems I'm pining away for bygone times like some modern day Norma Desmond, I'm actually a modernist who loves the trendy & the innovative. I think Belly Dance is more beautiful now than ever. I love finding new music & I search the net & consume workshops for inspiration, because now I'm a teacher, a mentor, a sort of life coach of Belly Dance. If you stick around long enough you eventually accrue some notoriety & respectability, but truth is I'm only a legend in LA - outside of the perimeters of this depressing city I'm known to no one except maybe the thousands of "belly" fetishists who drool over my "Man with Bogart's Face" Youtube video.

  I will continue to blog about current issues. I hope to raise some questions, & perhaps the ire of others with some controversial opinions. I hope the current dancers don't forget that us old timers are a living history. We've seen so many changes, trends & styles that we have a unique & well informed take on the business. We've been the "know it all" youngsters, the "It" girls & the "work horses". We may have danced differently, had little contact with dancers in other countries & had little training outside of nightly Middle Eastern club on the job training, but I think all of us 1970s Belly Dancers would agree we wouldn't trade our experience for anything. For that little moment in time Belly Dance was a glamorous, lucrative career. It was my intention with this blog to paint a picture of the world we inhabited. I hope it means something to someone eventually, even if not in my lifetime. So "My case is closed, my case is packed".

Reflections on the times 1990s - early 2000s

I'm winding down my memories. The Flowers of the Desert did their 10th anniversary show in 2005. The cast was completely different, and it was The Flowers in name only. It was hard to teach the old routines to new dancers. There was something about the original troupe that felt organic & true. The new dancers were young and beautiful, many had been my students, but it was hard to recreate the charisma of the original troupe. "Cirque des Fleurs" was our swan song. None of the original members would return for the anniversary show.

After the dust had cleared and the Flowers were disbanded (dancer Dolphina likened it to the Bellydance equivalent of the Beatles breakup) I realized the sea change in the business was cataclysmic & irreversible. It was something I bucked against, but I was too old & from a different era to be listened to.  With the advent of the troupe era, theater productions and charity shows I was an unwilling accomplice to the end of making a good living as a performing soloist. The mentality was different - the new dancers were willing to dance for free at any chance possible. I gave in to the unpaid shows, I broke my own cardinal rule of always being paid, because I wanted to do the fun shows & I was at the end of my performing career. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. This paved the way for the "pay to play" era that exists to this day. Coupled with the dearth of clubs & the glut of Bellydancers, there wasn't enough opportunity for all the dancers in Los Angeles who wanted to make this their career. So maybe I shouldn't feel guilty, maybe the new dancers saw the writing on the wall.

Truth was that I was totally focused on being a mom of a preteen who was very active in gymnastics, dance & an all around hard working student & great kid. I was teaching, & even still dancing at Burger Continental & a few other random places. But being a mom trumped it all, & my own wants & needs were transferred to being a mother who put her kid first, knowing it was a fleeting & magical moment that I could never again recapture.

2003 From left clockwise Jindra, Emily, Laura Kali, Kamala, Katia, Irani, Princess Farhana, Erica

The new version of the Flowers did have one hell of a crazy job at a giant Mexican nightclub called "El Parral". Four of us would dance several nights a week, providing a diversion while the norteño groups singing their tales of drug kingpins with their oompa bands took a break. We were well compensated for showing up, dressing in a cockroach infested dressing room with a terrible stench & doing a 10 minute schtick with group numbers. The place was jam packed with men in cowboy hats & women squeezed into tiny dresses & teetering on stiletto heels. We looked positively virginal compared to these ladies. So no one watched our show. No one. They would sit with their backs to us, chatting each other up & guzzling beer. One show we went down on our knees during a hair swinging Bandari number & my heel got caught in a cutout in my pink lycra bellbottoms (don't judge). I couldn't get up off the floor. So as my fellow dancers were up & continuing with the choreography, I was still on my knees struggling to figure out why I couldn't get up. The dancers tried to help me up & still I struggled until my foot was finally set free. We must have looked like a bunch of clowns, yet there was zero reaction from the crowd. Another time I had a wardrobe malfunction. I bent forward in the choreography & when I came up the back strap of my bra popped open & I completely flashed the audience with my bra around my neck. Again, not a blink from the crowd. We could have done anything out there. At the end of the evening we would go to the office & collect a good chunk of change & get the hell out. It always felt like some sort of front for a drug ring. Definitely one of my more unusual gigs.

I finally gave up my position as Assistant Director of the Flowers. Laura Crawford was busy with her law career & eventually the Flowers faded into oblivion for the last time.

Student production 2006. The Orchids Al Sahara perform with Joey Dowdy World Groove

I was having fun choreographing shows for my students & coaching them in competitions. I found that most of them went out there won, giving me a ton of satisfaction & pride. As long as I was a full time mom I was in heaven. Nothing else really mattered. But as all good things, the full time job of Mom was soon to be changing as well. I hate change. I don't do well at all with change. And I was about to enter one of the most challenging changes in my life.

The Flowers of the Desert - the bloom comes off the rose

"Ishtar" evening performance for the "Cairo Carnival Festival" 2000

"Drum Chant" Jindra, Laura & Kamala at IAMED's "Rock the Casbah"

For the remainder of the 1990s and into 2000, the Flowers of the Desert were busy creating theater productions. Another Fusion and Fantasy show in 1999 was artistically satisfying & well received. There was a mix of western and Arab audiences & no horror over fusing bellydance, no talk of cultural appropriation. It was fun entertainment. Neena & Veena had officially become the "BellyTwins" with a career of their own, so they left the Flowers. It seemed like a huge hole to fill, but we were blessed with the addition of an accomplished Ballet/Belly dancer named Jindra,  & a full time commitment from Kim Murphy - an all around fabulous dancer/contortionist/actress. We had an audition & added a new dancer named Layla, who unfortunately didn't jive with a few of the other dancers, so she was cut pretty quickly. She ended up starting her own company on which I will not comment. Another extraordinary dancer named Lorinda joined, as did a very young & adorable Jayna. Both Jayna & Lorinda went on to be "Bellydance Superstars".

                                Fusion and Fantasy 1999 at Highways Theater, Santa Monica, CA

Ali Baba Samba from Fusion & Fantasy 1999 backstage at Highways Theater, Santa Monica, CA
Kamala, Kim Murphy, Princess Farhana, Angell Estrada & Marci Johnson (Selena)

We were accustomed to accomplished Bellydancers enthusiastically joining the group, but there was one dancer who politely declined. Jillina was becoming the soloist of choice in the clubs. An extremely ambitious business woman, with all the assets needed for becoming a star, she wisely put her energies into building her own empire. She had a whole different business model, one that is the standard for professional dance companies to this day. Whereas the Flowers were a bit of a ragtag group in the sense that no one matched physically, & our work was quirky & artsy, Jillina assembled a sleek & glamorous  troupe. With the professionalism of a Vegas show - she was the star, supported by young back up girls of a similar look. It was commercial to the max - & they exploded on the club/party scene. Middle Eastern audiences now wanted Jillina's Sahlala Dancers, & only Jillina's Sahlala Dancers. The Flowers had our fare share of glamorous young dancers as well, & one by one they jumped ship & signed on with Jillina. No one could blame them, & I had always been told that a company director (I was assistant director at this point) should never get too attached to a dancer, because they (we) are flaneurs after all, floating away on whatever fair wind that blows - Zay el Hawa.

Bellydance a Go Go with Kamala, Jayna, Kim Murphy & Miriam

The Flowers perform on the "Roseanne Barr Show"

After 9/11 it was a grim time for the Middle Eastern community & the dancers. Restaurants stopped their entertainment & places changed their names to say "Mediterranean" rather than Middle Eastern. The Flowers had already produced a lot of charity events, & we presented "Bellydance for Peace". Much of the proceeds from our shows were donated to different worthy causes.

Backstage at Bellydance For Peace
Laura Crawford, Kamala, Dana, Jayna, Princess Farhana, Laura Kali, Lorinda & Miriam 2001

We still had a few regular gigs & some parties, but truth was we were just too eclectic to make it commercially. We tried our damnedest to choreograph fluffy commercial pieces, but they never rang true, like our eccentric stuff did. We did last in some form or another for several more years, & slowly the cast changed & all the old members were gone, mostly replaced by some of my wonderful students - at the time I happened to have some young beauties we could recruit. But it was never the same. The original Flowers of the Desert had a certain alchemy, a magical energy for that fleeting moment in time. Since those days there have been countless copies, & at this point not many even know who we were, & how different it was. Fusion has taken off in a huge way & creativity is thriving. My writing this story is an attempt to educate lovers of fusion Bellydance on what contribution we made. I look back with pride on this troupe. It's interesting to me how many of the original members never mention the Flowers on their resumes - dancers are a fickle lot I suppose, & perhaps to many of them it was just a blip on their roads to success. For me it was more than a blip. It was a saving grace, an opportunity to dance one more time, to be accepted. I had now been in the business for over 20 years & I was beginning to swallow the bitter pill of dancer old age & unattractiveness. Thankfully I had a growing student base & a fun children's dance company to pour my efforts into. And I was a mom - a very active, basically stay at home mom. That's what got me through this transition, as my identity for so long was shifting & fading.

Les Fleurs part Deux - the beginnings of Bellydance Fusion 1998

The "Flowers" often discussed our knowledge of other dance forms & kicked around the idea of fusing other dance genres with Middle Eastern. It was something that just hadn't been done, & especially for pros in the Arabic club world. Fueling the fire of this idea was the current popularity of Algerian Rai music, & the Arabic/Flamenco/Indian fusion trend raq-ing the Arab music market. If the musicians had license to spread their wings & expand their horizons, we felt compelled to follow in their footsteps. 

Veena and Neena were already doing Bollywood in our shows & it went over well with the Middle Eastern cliental. The first fusion piece was co choreographed by Laura,Veena, myself & a hip hop dancer named Indira. It was to Cheb Khaled's popular & often controversial DiDi. 

While these fusion fires were burning, we were discovering just how remarkable our new member Farhana was. With one step firmly in the punk rock LA world & a burgeoning journalistic career, our Pleasant Gehman was a force of nature, a renaissance woman extraordinare. She was organizing punk rock royalty charity events & getting us gigs in the seedy & historic rock & roll nightclubs of LA. To say I was in heaven was a total understatement. At my age, a suburban housewife/mom, chillin' in the green rooms of the Whiskey a Go Go, The Palace and the Roxy with the members of Talking Heads, Duran Duran & Red Hot Chili Peppers & the likes, I felt like I had finally come full circle - all the things I loved merged together. Entertaining first lady Hillary Clinton, rocking the vote, we were all over the place - spreading Bellydance into a new limelight, and bringing new ideas into the Arabic nightclub. We were a hit with both. 

Backstage at the Whisky a Go Go

My respect for Laura Crawford was growing in leaps & bounds. Devoid of pompous ego, talented, possession of a razor sharp mind, uncanny memory & an infectious enthusiasm made for the best dance company director I had known, or have known since. Laura welcomed our ideas with a resounding "YES!" & you could feel the creativity bubbling. 

A road trip to Leon, Mexico was a fun but often frustrating excursion for the Flowers & the Al Andalus orchestra. Here, years later I was dancing for the Arab diaspora in Mexico again, but this time with my friends around me, making it enjoyable, mixing touristy things with the work, & goofy antics on the tour bus. 

Our tour bus, in Leon, Mexico

Many professional dancers were knocking on the Flowers' door, wanting to get in on the action, but we were discerning & recruited two seminal members in Marci Johnson (Selena) & Angell Estrada. Marci came in with a ton of dance experience & Angell was a natural who had studied Flamenco & Latin dance extensively. Everything was in place to put something new & creative together, & we decided on another theater production, this time doing it our way, at the edgy Highways Theater in Santa Monica, CA. 

Named "Fusion & Fantasy 1998" so there would be no doubt of our intent, we got to work on an ambitious program. Marci's burlesque partner, the incomparable Kim Murphy was brought in, as well as a few guys to charge it all with a little testosterone. We had Bellydance/Bollywood fusion on pointe, a slightly naughty burlesque number to "Little Egypt", A hippie love-in extravaganza to Led Zeppelin's "Kashmir", authentic Indian Filmy & Ragistani, Khaleegy/Bandari fusion, Flamenco hip/hop fusion, A gothic Bellydance to a Lebanese remix of a Gregorian chant, a Goddess earthy piece, not to mention the obligatory sword, chamadon (candelabra), shaabi, oriental & drum solo pieces. We set out to turn the LA Bellydance world upside down, which we did, with 3 sold out shows. These shows were a scene - characters from all walks of life hanging out backstage - from movie stars to rock stars to bellydancers & counter culture, trendy LA types. Individual dancers had their own groupies, & dancers were calling me to say it was their dream in life to be a "Flower". You have to picture what it was like back then. There were few bellydance theater productions or events out there, no other professional troupes of the same calibre doing fusion. Very few Bellydance showcases or competitions. This made us the toast of the town. We were short, tall, zoftig, petite, old, young & it wasn't our intent to look like a Vegas chorus line or matching Barbies, but to look like a troupe of real women with our own distinct styles & personalities. I would say that it was a blast & artistically satiating.

We were also performing in concerts with the likes of Hakim, Alabina, Cheb Mami, Amr Diab & on & on, not to mention Bellydance jobs of a more conventional variety. Flowers' members were go-go dancing with the Go-Go's, & various other unconventional gigs, high on the groovy scale. The after parties were of a bacchanalian nature. I was not in attendance of many of them, as the mom of a young daughter, but the stories that were regaled would make the most liberal among you's toes curl & your eyes pop! 

We started on plans for a theater show the following year. The enthusiasm was infectious & we were all enjoying the collaboration & friendship, with the exception of a few tiffs between members from time to time (which I could, but won't go into). They were magical, heady times for me, because I had been at this business for so long, & by all accounts should have been hanging up the old coin bra. As we headed into our 4th year together some large changes occurred, but it was out with the old, & in with the new. Nothing was going to stop us - not yet anyway.

Mid 1990s - In with the In Crowd - the beginnings of "The Flowers of the Desert"

So I was now a mom of a toddler. I was working at US Air in Air Freight at LAX, operating forklifts, hauling large boxes, transporting dead bodies in caskets, driving trucks down the airfield alongside the mighty 747s. It was a bad ass man's job & I was straddling two worlds - the masculine & the supreme feminine. I still had weekly dance jobs & for the first time I regularly took Bellydance classes when Suhaila Salimpour was teaching in Hollywood. Suhaila's best friend was in the class, Laura Crawford, & word was she was the new "It" girl in the Arab clubs.

Perhaps a year later I got a phone call from Shira (Jane Padgett from the Hajji Baba's days in the '70s) asking if I would be interested in joining a dance troupe that was forming. The idea for the troupe was to join together LA's most popular working dancers. After Arabesque Dance Co I wasn't exactly chomping at the bit to get myself into that kind of commitment again, but I had just been laid off from USAir so I had some free time. When I heard Laura Crawford was starting the troupe I perked up a bit. She was working the hot nightclub at the time Al Andalus, & they were interested in a weekly troupe show with live music. I showed up for the rehearsal & was greeted by a friendly Laura, a young dancer named Miriam, Shira, Veena (one half of Bellytwins fame) & a Turkish girl named Zeyno. Laura was excited about doing a retro show with coin costumes & finger cymbals which in all truth was not something I was even remotely interested in. I wanted the hot Egyptian show with beads & crystals, & the Amcab look was something I had years before left behind with a good riddance. To make matters worse, Laura handed me a fluffy lace skirt to go home & add sequins to. I was rather huffy about this & as I glued one sequin on at a time for hours on end, I cursed myself for being talked into what felt like another troupe debacle. Hallah Mustapha who now has a successful costume business in Cairo made the costumes & she said we looked like flowers when we did what was to be our opening dance with several measures of fast spinning. Laura added "of the Desert" for a bit of a Mid East flare & voila The "Flowers of the Desert" were born. The whole thing sounded a bit too American to me & again I was having flashbacks of Arabesque hokeyness.

Advert for Al Andalus nightclub

So we did the whole enchilada - swords, veils, chamadon, finger cymbals & it turned out Laura was right about her audience. Unlike the Arab audiences in the past, these patrons seemed to get a bang out of the whole thing. A new girl was added to the weekly lineup - a tall elegant woman named Laura Kali who was somehow dubbed "Tall Laura" to differentiate the two. We pared up for the sword number & in rehearsal Laura Kali proved to be an excellent dancer, but it didn't prepare me for the dynamo she became in performance. I quickly realized I had to ratchet my performance value up a few notches to match her intensity. This was going to be fun. And we had live music to boot, & really good live music with none other than Issam Houshan on tabla, who later became probably the most famous Bellydance drummer in the world after his stint with the Bellydance Superstars.

Early Flowers in our retro coin costumes. Veena, Laura, Miriam, Kamala, Neena

Truth was, nearing 40, I was the old lady in the group. I was pretty fortunate that Laura even accepted me into the company, but it didn't change the fact that I didn't do as many paid gigs as the younger girls were doing. A hard pill to swallow, but I had to accept it. My prime time had come & gone. I was really happy to be at an Arab club again, with the hospitality (& great food) that came along with it. Laura & I would drag our young daughters with us to practice. They would hold court in a booth as the owner, musicians & waiters would come by to talk to them & offer Shirley Temples & the likes. My 4 year old daughter was loving every minute of it, & unbeknownst to me was soaking the dancing in, mentally & probably unconsciously taking notes.

                               
                            Early promo video including Rose Parade Al Andalus, Fountain Theater & Arab American TV

Not much later a few more ladies were added. Najwa was a dancer I had worked at Ali Baba's with. Veena brought her sister Neena & they added some Indian Punjabi & Filmy to the mix. Farhana was brought in to do some balancing & was soon integrated into the troupe full time. Of course Farhana eventually became Princess Farhana & the rest is history.

Clockwise from bottom right: Laura kali, Princess Farhana, Neena, Veena, Laura, Najwa, Kamala

We were immediately tapped to produce a show at a snooty theater reserved for more esoteric dance forms. The owner of the Fountain Theater in Hollywood came to Al Andalus & was impressed enough to let us create a theater production. "Dances of the Orient" was a success - filling two nights with enthusiastic audiences. It was really unusual at the time to have a full length Bellydance production & we were even favorably reviewed in the LA Times. The owner thought we were too commercial & was very sour throughout, but we WERE commercial - we were working clubs & parties.

Clockwise from bottom right: Zeyno, Veena, Najwa, Laura, Laura Kali, Kamala,  Farhana. Center Miriam

The Flowers became the toast of the town. I felt very fortunate at my age & at that point in my dance career to be a part of the current "In Crowd"in the LA Bellydance scene. Looking back I really wasn't that old, was I? But to put away my steel toed work boots & take off my suburban mom kit to be a part of a popular working dance troupe was a bonus I really hadn't anticipated. And things were about to get even better...