Adventures in Bellydancing: My First Class.
I think every woman should take a bellydancing class. If not now, at some point in your life. It doesn’t matter when. Age is irrelevant. Just do it.
It may not to be everyone’s taste. Some women feel empowered running marathons, some by lifting weights, some by pole dancing. (I feel most powerful when I’m performing; that’s just me.) But of these women and those not included in the aforementioned, some are not so comfortable with their bodies. How they look, how they carry themselves. How they’re clothed, how they’re naked. Some don’t feel comfortable in their curves, others wish for them.
It’s okay.
I remember a Sex and the City episode where Miranda and Carrie turn into the latest fitness craze, “The Inner Goddess.” Women are draped in swathes of pastel chiffon scarves, waving them, spinning with them, (attempting to) seductively move their hips with them. Miranda feels awkward – My hips don’t pop, I’m a guy – and gives up. This isn’t helping me find my inner goddess, only my inner humiliation. I’m never gonna be a girly girl. I never will.
And no woman should have to mold themselves to whatever is socially defined as “feminine.” But Miranda was too preoccupied with appearance; because unless you’re a professional in the field, it simply doesn’t matter. It’s not about how you look when you’re bellydancing, but how you feel: bellydancing reacquaints you with your body.
See yourself in a new light. Feel your body in a different way. Feel muscles you’ve never felt moving and pulsating; feel different feelings. Embody yourself, indulge the senses. Bellydancing is about sensuality. Hip scarf optional.
. . .
x
Agreed, bellydancing is an awesome and fun exercise. I know many Pagan women use it as a way to raise energy for a ritual as well
So cool. I love the origins of bellydance! I’m not sure of the specifics, but if I recall correctly, it used to be a dance taught strictly to the bourgeois/royalty to teach girls femininity; it was a respectable art. Somewhere along the way it became misconstrued as a slave dance, a dance of (I hesitate to say) the poor/the prostitutes. Insane.
This is how I feel about Zumba or the first ten minutes of running. I may look gross and sweaty and uncoordinated, but I feel so much better. (Then the next ten minutes or running set in…)
Yessssss! That is it! I wish I was one of those girls who just “glowed.” Unfortunately, I sweat. I’ve come to terms with it. x
thanks for the link – I had heard about that episode but hadn’t seen it.