This past weekend I attended a wonderful evening of belly dancing organized by Habeeba's Dance of the Arts, one of  the midwest's oldest bellydancing schools. The program featured belly dancers from across the country, as well as Habeebas' own dance troupe. In total, there were easily over thirty performers presenting various styles of belly dancing from cabaret to tribal. The dancers were incredible and they reminded me just how sensual belly dancing is, even though many of the dancers were really quite covered up between their flowing skirts and the silk veils or fan veils they incorporated into their dancing.

The dancers drew you into the feminine. It is not that their movements showcased that which we might consider sensual of the female form- undulating bellies, hips, and breasts. Rather, it was that their movements-- the shrug of shoulders, the delicate weaving of arms and hands, the winks and the smiles, the flowing hair, the knees and feet peaking out of flowing skirts or pants-- showcased the inherent sensuality of the female form as a whole.  A celebration of lush, abundant, womanhood. The second chakra personified. A celebration of life itself.

 Of the thirty or so female dancers, there were perhaps a handful  with Victoria's Secret bodies -- in their D-cup tops and tiny waists and hips. They were beautiful girls and in any other context, I would say they had the perfect bodies.

 But not in this context. In this context of belly dancing, I wanted to give some of them a ham sandwich, especially those with perfectly flat bellies. 

 Belly dancing is about celebrating the lush, abundance of life, the generative capacity of womanhood. It is a thick, wild forest, not a zen garden. I found myself drawn to the dancers with full hips, round bellies because when they swayed, they swayed with lush abandon. Their bellies spoke their life stories-- of broad arms that had hugged tightly and comforted, of bellies stretched from holding life within. When these women swayed, their bellies swayed and vibrated with the poetry of women's lives.  

Lush. Round. Loose.  Abudant. Wild. Splendor. 

The tribal dancers in particular, their heads wrapped in  thick  turbans, their bodies covered in layers and layers of brightly colored skirts over pants, were not trying to make themselves small. And when they swayed, the huge mohair tassels around their waists further exaggerated the sway of their bellies, the      

sway       

sway

sway

of their hips. And as their eyes made contact with the audience and they smiled and winked, they were clearly inviting us to look and enjoy their abundant beauty.

Big girls some of these dancers. Of the 2X and 3X variety. Many of them in their forties and fifties. The more life they'd lived, the more stories their bodies could tell. I envied their wild abandon. I longed to join them, to shake from my body  the messages that young and thin and taught are the ONLY beautiful. Perhaps those are not battle scars I see on it, but badges of honor of the experiences I have lived to tell.  

Bellies with experience shake and move and vibrate with earthiness and confidence. 

A belly dancer-- even an otherwise thin one--  has to have a belly.  Because the belly is the seat of life.

Below is Laylia, one of my favorite dancers of the evening. Her beautiful belly dancer's body (and her exquisite dancing) exemplify the sensual vibrant lush energy that the best dancers convey.