An unpopular opinion? I prefer dresses.

I remember the first time I saw Raqia Hassan. It was on a VHS tape, produced by Turquoise International, from her first tour in the US in 1996. I remember my first impression when I played the tape was my shock at how she looked. She was an apple-shaped lady (no disrespect- I also tend toward that body type) wearing a somewhat oversized t-shirt and shiny lycra leggings. She did not seem glamorous at all, and could she dance, I wondered.

But after a few minutes I forgot what she was wearing, because I was so captivated by her musical interpretation and naturalness. She was teaching to what I now know as Albi Malou by Hany Shaker, a very catchy pop tune of its time. Her “choreography” didn’t feel like arbitrary combinations of movement, everything she did seemed like the perfect thing to do, as if it was just springing out of her. I’m willing to bet that she didn’t merely plug combinations into that song’s structure but rather that she worked with it over and over, and the music told her what to do.

Raqia and her t-shirt!

Anyway, this is not about Raqia so I won’t get sidetracked any more on her influence on my movement style at that time. What is important is that I learned something else from that tape- that if someone is good, you will forget about what they are wearing. And that what you are wearing isn’t the main point.

That was a lesson I took to heart, but of course when you are performing, in most cases you can’t wear your teaching clothes, and there is a decision to be made about what you will perform in. There are so many considerations to this decision, and it can be fraught- it can bring up issues with body image and confidence. Costumes can sometimes be uncomfortable, and the amount of pinning, reaching, tucking, twisting to get everything in its placed and secure can make the pre-performance time sweaty and stressful. 

For me, the more comfortable I am, the better, and the more things I can simplify related to the “getting ready to perform” process, the better, so for me that means wearing a dress or galabeyya (note- for me this doesn’t mean those things that have a strip of fabric and beads going down the midriff and are called a “dress”- or the galabeyyas that are covered up but then serving the “breasts on a platter” look! Although those are great if you like them) to dance in.

I entered this dance form knowing absolutely nothing about belly dance “culture” (and most definitely nothing about the actual cultural aspect of the dance!) Based on everything I saw around me in shows I just thought that bra and belt sets were “what you wore”.  I thought that the bra and belt look was de rigeur and that I had to wear this “uniform” for performing.

In my early days, I had made two bra and belt sets and then made the huge step of buying two Egyptian costumes (Pharaonics of Egypt, on payment plans of course!) from Mila’s boutique within a few years of starting. I got used to the uncomfortable feeling of them and to the inevitable pinning and tugging that had to take place before I felt stage ready. Along the way somewhere I did add two dresses, one was a Persian lace short sleeve dress with paillettes and one I had made from a black and gold Sari to wear with one of those “dowry necklace” things. Since both of these were transparent, I rigged up a black leotard and underskirt combination to wear under them. So I had a few dresses in the rotation early on.

Al some point, though, I started to switch to dresses more. I bought a couple of beaded evening dresses and rigged up belt-type things for them. At the time I wasn’t really thinking about modesty, but discovered that I liked the look and the ease of putting them on. But mainly I had simply realized by this time that wearing dresses was a valid choice, and that I could wear whatever I wanted. In the mid-90’s I acquired a second hand Pharaonics costume that came with a black body stocking and so that was grandfathered in because it looked like a dress. But I haven’t bought a two-piece costume since then.

Many people have made assumption that I am a more conservative dresser at the behest of my Egyptian husband, which couldn’t be further from the truth. By the time I met him, I had been dancing for almost 20 years and had not been wearing bras and belts for a majority of those years, as previously stated- a fact that could probably be verified with dance friends from Austin. In truth, modestly is also a reason I prefer dresses, but not because of any external pressure.

My natural bent towards modesty was there in childhood, and I remember being very uncomfortable in shorts or bathing suits and always wanting to sit in ways that hid more of my arms and legs if I was wearing short sleeve shirts or shorts. This was not due to any kind of standards within my household or religious or social pressure at all, and even my mother was mystified by it. Except for a few years of teenage/young adult rebellion when it was “anything goes” (including, I regret to remember, wearing an off what tank top with no bra in public), I’ve preferred to be more dressed rather than less- also verifiable with any number of family members or colleagues who teased me about this over the years.

But I’m not going to lie, after working for years with the very diverse population of Arabs and Arab-Americans in the United States and then living in Egypt for years and encountering a range of conservative points of view (not specifically in regard to dancing), there is a confidence I gain from knowing that the lack of flesh on display removes a barrier of acceptance/understanding among certain parts of my extended circles of friends and acquaintances.  By no means do I wear dresses to gain anyone’s approval or acceptance- nor would their disapproval cause me to stop dancing- but I do like knowing that if they are going to disapprove of me dancing it’s not going to be because I’m not wearing enough [laugh emoji!!!].

For me, wearing a dress gives me the comfort and confidence to focus on the dancing, and the freedom to not think about what I’m wearing, but rather to surrender to my experience in the moment.  It takes no time to get a dress on and off, in most cases. And I can forget what I’m wearing when I’m moving. Physically, I’m not sensing straps and pins as I’m dancing. I’m not feeling constrained by being uncomfortable or worry about something coming off, so I can focus on what is really important- the act of moving in space and time to music- which is dancing.

I know that for working dancers there may be commercial concerns, i.e. the club owner or person hiring or audience might expect or even demand a certain type of costuming “look”. But since I have not ever really been a working dancer (except for one brief stint very early on, where I danced at a Lebanese restaurant in Austin every weekend for about a year and a half), I have the blessed freedom to wear whatever I want. 

Offering my thoughts on this matter should in no way be considered a form of body-shaming, or costume-shaming, everyone is free to wear what they want.  But in general, I think that women are socialized to both accept discomfort (heels, spanx, etc.) for the sake of how things “should look”, and to take a certain amount of bodily display for granted as a cultural norm in the West, and that short shorts, bikinis, etc are an expected thing to wear. So sometimes NOT wearing revealing things is seen as an indication of having “body image issues”, being a prude, or even being oppressed, since it goes against our Western cultural norms.

But costume choices based on modesty, or wanting to be comfortable, or just not wanting to worry about it, are as valid as any, and in a dance form that celebrates women and their individual self-expression there is room for all points of view on this.

And, going back to Raqia and her t-shirt, what you wear to dance in isn’t the main point. If you are good, people will forget what you are wearing, but they won’t forget how your dancing made them feel.