"I'm a Terrible Dancer!"

Lee Celledoni, 1947 State Library of Queensland

I have a solo performance coming up next week, so I've been busy planning costumes and songs and practicing to those songs in costumes. And, as it never fails, I've been feeling pretty terrible about my dancing.

I very much want to do more solo performances, but every time I prepare for one, I feel like the worst dancer in the world. My songs aren't right, my costumes aren't right, I look nothing like how I imagine myself to be in my head--everything is terrible.

Luckily, I remember the wise words of some wonderful dancers I've met. In this case, it's Princess Farhana: "People can barely leave a coherent voicemail, let alone get on a stage and dance!"

Most of the time, your audience aren't dancers themselves, and won't even know how skilled you are compared to the dancers you admire. To them, you're doing things they think they never could do. And other dancers will admire your courage to get up on that stage. I've even talked to members of my troupe, and they are sometimes surprised that I've taken the stage alone. It's something that scares them too much to attempt too often.

Then there's just the practice. The show I'm dancing for is a regular local show, with lots of opportunities for dancers looking to practice performing. In fact, the audience rarely gets above 25 people. If you're lucky enough to have a similar venue in your area, you should be signing up as often as you can. Each time, it'll get easier to get up on that stage, and even better, you can have someone videotape each of your performances, and watch yourself improve.

You're not a terrible dancer. Neither am I. There's still many dancing years ahead, and as dancers, we should take any opportunity to improve ourselves, and get used to performing on a stage.

For now, I'm not going to worry so much about my perceived lack of skill. The whole point is to have fun, and to share the stage with some great dancers. And, with any luck, I'll learn something from this performance!

Know Thyself: How a Dancer's Body Works

Don Athaldo, Powerhouse Museum Collection

One of the things I cherish the most about learning how to dance is the fact that I know my body better than I ever have before. For instance, before I started dancing, I didn't know how many muscles were in my abs, or how they worked. Or why I couldn't ever sit on the floor with my legs straight out in front of me. Or why I always got foot cramps. But now that some of these things can impede or improve my dancing, I've been forced to figure out those whys.

In the process, I've learned more about how my body works and feels, which I think is the most important thing for every bellydancer.

You don't need me to tell you how body conscious the world is. Everyone is always on a diet or trying out a new exercise regime, but does anyone really know their body? All of it, even the wobbly bits and the parts that stick out funny and the muscles and joints that ache at certain times? You might be able to point out the parts you wish you could change with your eyes closed, but would you even know where to start changing things?

Dancers need to know their bodies. But with over 200 bones and more than 600 muscles, not mention all the tendons, joints, and ligaments that come with it, where are you supposed to start?

I began with an anatomy book. There are several out there for dancers, though my favorite one is actually an anatomy book for yoga. If you prefer to watch rather than read, there's DVDs and Youtube videos on anatomy, as well as countless diagrams all over the internet. When you're learning a new move, or trying to figure out how to access a particular muscle, having a diagram that shows you what you're aiming for is instrumental, and makes things so much easier.

Then there's practice. Practice with mirrors, practice with a teacher, practice with a friend. You need to be able to see your body working, get feedback, and sometimes, you need to see how things work on someone else before you can do it yourself. Mirrors are great because you get immediate feedback--but sometimes your brain can lie to you and tell you you look better than you actually do. That's where your dance teacher comes in. My teacher encourage us putting our hands on her (with her permission, of course) so we can actually feel the muscles she's using to drive a move. And a good dance teacher will always be able to look at you and see that you're using the right (or wrong) muscle. And if you have a dance friend, dancing with them and seeing how they perform can help you, as well. You can see how moves look on different body types, and maybe learn a thing or two about how to emulate them.

Finally, there's just the knowledge that comes with time. You can speed it along a little by doing cross-training: yoga, pilates, strength training--even another dance class. Any of these will teach you how to access certain muscles you didn't even know existed, as well as strengthen them for use in your dance. It also helps to watch other dancers and see if you can figure out how they're performing a certain move. Or, better yet, ask! Most dancers will be more than willing to give you a quick breakdown of something (just make sure you respect their time).

If you really want to get good at what you're doing, you need to know your body, because most often, that's the only tool you're using on the dance floor. So grab a book, a friend, or just a mirror, and get started in getting to know you.

What's Your Story?

Ruth St. Denis, Dance of Theodora, New York Public Library

This may surprise you, but most people don't actually care how perfectly you can dance. No one is going to worry about your isolations or that you arched your back just a little, or that you can't get a fully parallel backbend, and believe me, you don't need to care about the people who do. What's really important, though, is how well you can capture the audience.

Take a look at any dancer you admire. Sure, she's got a couple of 'wow' moves in there, but notice how she's impossible to tear your eyes from. After awhile, you will probably start to notice the things that make her not technically perfect, but for the big picture, they don't matter. You can bring the same thing to your dance by putting a little heart into your performance.

How do you give heart to your performance?
Give yourself a story. Now, I'm not talking about acting out an entire monologue, or writing a play, but you want to tell yourself a story about the dance you're doing. Give yourself a reason for being on stage, whatever it is, and then use it to fuel your performance. Your audience will connect more with you when you have a story, then if you were to just go on stage and dance.

But I just like this music!
So how do you give yourself a story? Start by listening to your performance music and writing down what you see in your mind's eye. How does the music make you feel? Do you see a setting, a costume, props, colors, certain backdrops? Even if all you picture is you on a stage somewhere, go with that. And remember, nothing that you picture while listening to music is wrong!

When you're preparing your performance, remember what you felt and saw while listening to your music, and use that to inspire your movements. For instance, if you imagined a sad scene, think of what you feel like and do when you're sad, and translate that with your dance. If you imagined a joyful celebration, think of a time when you were sharing happiness with others. No matter what you are trying to express, you can always find something from your own experiences to help you.

How a story can help off stage
Giving yourself a story can even help when you're not prepping for a performance. Sometimes you'll have bad dance days, or you're just not getting a new combo. You find yourself thinking that you're a terrible dancer, maybe you should quit--instead of telling yourself that, though, tell yourself the story about the kind of dancer you want to be. You'll find that you're much more willing to continue when you can tell yourself a story then if you told yourself you're a bad dancer (by the way, this little trick is also known as cognitive behavior).


This worked for me as recently as last week: I was having trouble adjusting to a new formation, and was ready to pack it in for the night. Then I remembered what kind of dancer I wanted to be. Suddenly, I felt like giving the formation another try, and I was able to grasp it before the end of class.


When you're contemplating your next performance or you're having trouble in practice, just ask yourself, "What's my story?". Then, dance with that story in mind!

Happy Anniversary (or, My Bellydance Story)

Ruth St. Denis, New York Public Library

Five years ago, around this time of the year, I wandered into a consignment store on Lighthouse Ave. in Pacific Grove, California, and asked the tall blonde lady at the counter if I could come to her bellydance classes.

At the time, I had very little dance experience: I'd done the requisite tap and ballet classes as a child, and then performed on the colorguard in high school but I'd always had a hard time keeping up with almost everyone, was chastised for my claw hands and inability to do a hip circle, and forget school dances! I always tried to hide in a crowd of friends because I had no idea what to do on the dance floor.

My first ever bellydance class was an advanced one--I can't really remember how I ended up in it, but I do remember how hard it was to keep up. Even though I'd studied some of the basic moves using Youtube videos, I still couldn't make my body do what I asked of it. And yet, for some unknown reason, I kept going back.

I kept going back even though I was asked to perform a scant five weeks later, and I kept going back even though a 3/4 shimmy remained a completely foreign concept to me, and asking me to move my hips in conjunction with my arms was like asking me to move a mountain. But I faithfully went to class twice a week and became so enamored with bellydance that when I moved back home and away from Pacific Grove less than a year after my first class, one of the first things I did in my new place was find a bellydance teacher.

Everything I am today stems from that first bellydance class I took. I have danced on stages when I was so terrified I couldn't feel my legs and kept smiling, I have met women and men I've admired from afar and discovered that they are no different than I am, I have made amazing new dance friends, and I have stopped being so afraid of being myself. This year alone, I am doing things that I would have never imagined myself doing, and because of my desire to be a better dancer I am in the best shape of my life. Bellydance has so changed who I am that one day a few months ago, I was driving home from the bellydance classes that I now teach (who'd have thought I'd be teaching?) and realized that, at that very moment, I had never been happier before in my life.

So, for the space I have to dance on, the music I have to dance to, my teachers and my ancestors, and most of all, all the dancers I have to dance with: thank you for the last five years, and here's to five times many more!

You Can Be Just As Talented As Rachel Brice

Petipa, George Eastman House

How do you usually practice?

You'd think that practicing at all outside of class is enough, right? As long as you put some music on and shimmy while you're doing the dishes, as long as you dance to a song or two while you're drying your hair, as long as you practice zilling to the top 40 in the car, you're still practicing, right?

But then you get to see all those beautiful dancers who are so flexible and so sharp and just so good, and you tell yourself that they're just really talented. Natural-born bellydancer, right?

Wrong.

First of all, nothing you do in bellydance is natural, except maybe a hip shimmy, which is really just exaggerated walking. And yes, some people are taller or shorter or heavier or skinnier than you. But apart from that, there's very little difference between you and that dancer you envy*cough*admire. Just the one thing, in fact.

They use deliberate practice.

What is deliberate practice? Well, it's right there in the name. You are practicing deliberately. "Well, isn't all practice deliberate?" you say. "I'm not just accidentally doing chest lifts here!"

To practice deliberately, you not only need to take the time to practice, but you also need motivation to practice, an understanding of your vocab of moves, self-awareness, and repetition.

So how do you get these things?

Well, motivation is the tough one. If you're not motivated to practice or even dance, you should ask yourself whether or not this is the thing for you. But even if you know you want to be a dancer, motivation can be hard to come by when you've had a long day and you're tired and sore and you feel clumsy. For those days, put together a motivation pack. Get some music that gets you dancing, even if it's not your typical bellydance music. If you've got a great DVD that really inspires you, save it for the tough practice nights. Or get a list of YouTube videos that make you want to move and watch those just before practicing. Another way to motivate yourself is to sign up for a performance--nothing will get you practicing faster than an upcoming performance.

Understanding your bellydance vocab means getting to class and learning. And it doesn't just have to be your regular class, either. Check around and see if there are any workshops or new teachers coming through your area. Or plan a road trip with your troupe and visit another studio. Never stop learning new things, and bring them to the table every time you practice. And if you learn something new that doesn't quite make sense to you, don't feel bad about asking for a better explanation.

To be self-aware while you're dancing means getting feedback on your progress, whether it be from a mirror, a video, a friend or teacher, or even just the way the move feels on your body. If you've been dancing long enough, you'll know when you've done something right or not. And it doesn't hurt to ask your teacher or a dance friend to tell you when you need to work on something. Make sure you videotape your performances, and every once in awhile, trot out the camera for your practice, too, so you can check to see if there's anything you need to work on. Another good idea is to keep a dance journal and write down what you're working on and how it feels. That way you can go through it and see where you're improving and where you're lagging behind.

Repetition is the easiest one--you've already been doing this. Just keep practicing it!

Next time you practice, pick at least three things you want to work on, and make sure they are moves you know how to execute. Then, throw on your favorite piece of music, turn on the video camera or grab a friend, and spend fifteen minutes practicing those three moves. When the fifteen minutes is up, watch the video or ask you friend to see how you did. Take notes on what you need to work on, put it in your dance journal, and then use it to structure your next practice. In no time, you'll be just as talented as those dancers you admire!

The Bellydance Hangover

Reginald J. Cross, Galt Museum

You wake up, the morning after a performance, and everything hurts. Your head is pounding with the beats of last night's music, your feet are cracked and swollen from when you stepped on someone's beads, your eyelids are stuck together from the eyelash glue you were too tired to clean off, and you can't stop phantom zilling, even though you have carpal tunnel.

You have a bellydance hangover.

Yes, a bellydance hangover actually exists. It's not recognized in the medical world, but ask any bellydancer and they'll tell you that they've experienced this at least once before.

At best, you'll just need a good soak in the tub to take care of sore muscles. You'll also want to make sure you've given your face a good scrub--that stage makeup will clog your pores faster than you can shimmy! However, if you've actually injured yourself, whether it's an injured muscle or a cut foot, you'll need to take things a little more seriously.

For pulled muscles, ice and heat are your best friends, and try to get in an appointment with your massage therapist as soon as possible (you do have a massage therapist, right?). Don't forget a trip to the doctor to make sure you didn't do any serious damage, and take it easy for the next week. If it's an open wound, clean it out, remove any debris that might be stuck in there (glass, dirt, sequins, beads), and bandage it up. You'll also want to check that your tetanus shot is up-to-date, and make an appointment with your doctor.

As for taking care of the phantom zilling and the headache from the music, spend a quiet day catching up on your favorite television series or reading a book. Relax and stay hydrated. You deserve it, after a great show!

A little overindulgence in bellydance isn't a bad thing every once in awhile, but like any indulgence, make sure you don't do it every night, or you'll burn out fast than you can say "hip work". And, if you've got a lot of dance sisters and brothers, a bellydance hangover is a great excuse to spend some more time together, and maybe even plan the next event!

You Are Exactly Where You Should Be

Original Ballet Russe, State Library of New South Wales

"Most people can barely leave a decent voicemail, let alone get on a stage and dance."

For some dancers, getting on stage your first time can be even harder than making the decision to sign up for dance classes. Everything feels right when you're alone in your home or at the studio, but as soon as you think about other people seeing you, suddenly it's terrifying.

The first time, sometimes even the second, third, or even tenth time you psyche yourself up to get on stage, there's probably a lot of thoughts swirling around your head: I haven't been dancing long enough. I don't have enough flexibility. My song is stupid. I'll be too boring on stage. I can't do all the moves I want. I should be better than I am.

And you are wrong. You shouldn't be anything more than what you are. You just agreed to put together a costume, find music, spend two hours doing your hair and makeup, and choreograph/improv a 2-6 minute song. If you took a random sampling of people on the street who were prepared to do that, you would be in the minority.

If you're dancing for the general public, they'll be so jazzed about seeing a bellydancer they won't even notice your shimmies aren't sharper. And if you're dancing for other dancers, they'll be so proud of you for getting on stage in the first place they won't even think of criticizing your arm placement.

Don't look at yourself in the mirror and say, "I should be better." "I should be different." "I don't look good enough." You got on a stage, in front of people, and bared your soul in front of total strangers. Do you know how hard that is? Just by walking into class, or saying, "Yes, I will perform,"  just by getting on that stage, you have done more with your life than most of the people you know or will ever meet.

You won't be perfect. Bad photos will be taken, your posture will do something funny, and there will be video evidence of it. But if you falter, just remember that you have already done amazing things as a dancer, and you can make yourself even better. Remember all the classes, all the tears and sore muscles and late nights in the studio rehearsing, and know that you are exactly where you should be.

So what are you waiting for? Get on that stage and dance!