BELLY DANCING
It seems everyone is getting in on the act
It’s not easy to find a fun and affordable hobby that appeals to men and women from ages 12 to 70. But the stage of the Old Strathcona Performing Arts Centre was replete with representatives of that very extensive demographic on a recent Sunday.
All of them were belly dancing as part of a rehearsal for an endof-term performance hosted by Bedouin Beats, a belly dance studio near Alberta Ave.
If you thought belly dancing had gone out of style along with Mediterranean restaurants and plate smashing, think again. There are two professional belly dancing studios in Edmonton, and classes are offered by Metro Continuing Education, the City of Edmonton and private fitness studios city-wide. A variety of local troupes perform at public events such as Heritage Days or the Kaleido Festival.
While some dancers may fit the stereotype — curvy in just the right places — most don’t. There are skinny tweens, burly men and folks with health issues. Some are there for the great costumes and glittery eye makeup. Others like the camaraderie. For many, it’s a welcome respite from their day jobs.
The latter factor appeals to Jodi Doesburg, who owns School of Raq, which has been operating in the city for nearly 20 years and is located in Old Strathcona (10426 81 Ave.)
Doesburg has a day job as an office worker in the complaints department. She loves that belly dancing adds positivity and passion to her life. Now 40, she took up belly dancing in her 20s after practicing martial arts in a mostly-male environment.
“They were all bigger, stronger and faster than me, and there was nothing that I could call my own,” she says. “Within five minutes of trying belly dancing, I knew this was what I wanted to do.”
School of Raq (pronounced “rock” and an abbreviation of raqs sharqi, a classical Egyptian style of belly dance) has about 100 students, maybe 50 of whom are repeat customers. There are about a dozen classes a week, generally in 10- to 12-week terms (the next session starts April 15).
The other major player in Edmonton is Bedouin Beats (11805 95 St.). With roughly 75 students, it offers a plethora of levels and styles of belly dancing, from Salimpour to Fusion (incorporating other dance genres such as hip-hop) to Dance Fitness (combining belly dancing with yoga and Pilates for overall fitness).
Prices vary between studios, but run between $155 to $170 for a full term of weekly classes (60 to 90 minutes).
Bedouin Beats owner Michelle Kaplan says the studio is “body positive.” At the rehearsal, there was a wide range of styles, bodies and levels of athleticism. Some dancers, like Anita Bahry, were clearly excited by the gear. Resplendent in purple, Bahry, who loves to sew, has two closets and six under-the-bed bins full of sequin-studded bras and scarves jingling with tiny gold coins.
“It’s a time to get dressed up,” says Bahry, 50. “It’s what Christmas concerts should have been like as a kid.”
Janice Moon, 58, and Anne Vimtrup, 59, have been dancing with Bedouin Beats for eight years in a class called Divine Divas, geared toward the mature dancer. They met in class and have become fast friends.
Moon has a disability caused by her mother’s thalidomide use during pregnancy and has had both of her legs reconstructed.
“I grew up in hospital,” says Moon, who also has osteoarthritis. “My dance is the first time I’ve allowed myself to be physically active. People think ‘I can’t possibly belly dance.’ Well, if I can do it, anyone can.”
Vimtrup says she started out feeling “uncoordinated and clumsy, and I tipped forward from all that sitting at the computer.” Menopause, she says, also made her feel as if her body was a stranger. But belly dancing helped Vimtrup feel more body-aware, and more confident in her movement. Now she’s limber, and bares her belly with the best of them. Her favourite part of belly dance, however, is the community.
“I love being part of an ensemble,” Vimtrup says. “That’s the key, and that’s where the excitement is.”
The mood was buoyant at rehearsal, a feeling generated by a room full of people laughing and feeling good about themselves. Kurt Decker, 64, was dressed like a sheik, with a tight cap and flowing cloak. He studies American Tribal Style, a modern form of belly dance.
“I started it because it’s a gypsy style of dancing and that’s part of my personality,” says Decker, a youth worker for special needs students by day. “I’m a wanderer; I was jumping freight trains at 15.”
Decker has always loved to dance and perform, but after suffering a stroke seven years ago he needed to learn to use his body anew. He says belly dancing teaches participants to “isolate and separate” various muscles to get them moving in the rhythmic roll of the belly that is the style’s signature move. The “fast, repetitive” movements have helped him regain coordination.
Belly dancers were united in their appreciation of the sense of acceptance that greets participants, regardless of the class or studio. There is a lot of “wiggle, jiggle and giggle,” as Moon puts it.
While the dancers were working hard at rehearsal, it felt joyful, not stressful. Kaplan, the Bedouin Beats owner, belted out her version of Colbie Caillat’s powerful anthem, Try, summing up the attitude that seems to permeate belly dancing.
“People start by saying ‘I would never bare my midriff,’ Kaplan says. “But by the end of 10 weeks, they feel much better about that.”