This commitment to improvisation requires the dancer to interpret the
mood and context of the event, the music, and the energy of the people she dances for in the moment in which she is dancing. It can’t be anticipated beforehand. She ‘reads’ the tone of the room, and draws upon the full range of her skills and movement to respond in real time.
As with all improvisation, the freestyle performance is a shared activity, as the dancer interacts with the people she is dancing for and with. Her role is not to provide (let’s face it) eye candy for the benefit of (let’s face it) the male gaze. Instead, it’s an exchange, in which everyone shares their enjoyment of the occasion and the people who are there with them.
That’s not to say that it’s not sensuous or even sexy. The earthy pelvic rhythms and sinuous moves combine to create a whole range of different tones and moods of dance, depending on what the dancer chooses to express. Even the most restrained moves can be alluring if danced the right way.
Stylistically, I’m told this variant of dance most resembles the old improvisational style of Persian solo dancers, which emphasised the dancer’s personal charm and the grace of her delicate arm and hand movements. This form permits both subtlety and exuberance, according to the dancer’s skill in self-expression.
This creativity of expression is the defining difference between freestyle and other choreographed forms of belly dance.
While many of the base moves and musical rhythms I work with share similarities with other Middle Eastern and belly dance styles, freestyle is a far cry from those ornately sequined and heavily syncopated cabaret styles, or the repetitive patterning of many folk dances. Those forms rest heavily on replicating sets of movements in established patterns according to long-standing conventions.
Each style has its own norms, artistic standards, and aesthetics. But underneath these stylistic distinctions lies another and more profound difference. Dance is, and always has been, about identity – shared and individual. So this dance form expresses something true about who I am.
Beyond the artistic challenge and reward of meeting each dance as a blank canvas, there are a set of values that lie at the heart of my commitment to freestyle dance that apply equally in life. I dance freestyle because I live freestyle.
At its most essential, freestyle belly dance declares the value of each individual and creates a respectful space for them to express themselves in their own way. Living and dancing like this challenges the dancer to be authentic, to bring her full self to the dance.
Instead of moving her body mechanically through someone else’s movements, the dancer enters the unadorned, vulnerable space of creation. She must draw upon her own resources and personal qualities: the courage required to dance without a safety net of rehearsed sequences when the blank panic of stage fright sets in, to stare down fear in every performance. The ability to break the mold of convention, and bring something that is valuable for its difference. The appreciation of beauty as something that is expressed, not something earned by doing the right thing and buying the right stuff. The assertion of skill and sensibility in creating her own dance, rather than relying on established, approved norms. The presence to claim and hold the attention of a group, and the generosity to connect meaningfully with them. The confidence to dignify their authentic self-expression by affirming her own.
And in this most feminine and sensual of dance forms, the dancer claims respect by meeting the world in her female body without shrinking or hiding. This is an inherently powerful act, which validates the right of all other women to do the same - to be non-apologetically present as female in the shared, visible public space.
This energy flows through all of my dancing. It’s the je-ne-sais-quoi of performance. No amount of technical precision can replace this unique quality of conscious, empowered presence. It’s what makes me an excellent dancer, despite my obvious deviation from the feminine ideal. It’s why I can hold an audience spell-bound, despite my limitations. In dance, as in life, this sensibility is a source of freedom that I give myself.
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