This week’s topic from the Marketing for Romance Authors 52-week blog challenge: Do you share or hide an odd, useless talent? This is a blog hop, so pop over to the MFRW website and check out the other entries. https://mfrw52week.blogspot.com/

Odd? Perhaps. Useless? Never.

She’s been a friend of mine for over thirty years. Exotic, quirky, a bit “out-there,” she’s always entertaining. True, she wears a lot of eye make-up—she has a special fondness for Egyptian kohl. And she’s very fond of bling, of sparkly, spangly, jingly things. She wears her hair long and wild when others her age would cut it off and don more conservative attire. Those who don’t know her might be tempted to call her a floozy, a show-off, a vamp. But my old friend is wise and joyful, and knows how to shake her lush, womanly ass to impressive effect. She’s generous, kind to all women, non-judgmental, and loves to party. And, most importantly of all, being with her always makes me happy. Her name is Raqs Sharki. (That’s “belly dance,” in the common parlance.Still, she has a good sense of humor and won’t hold it against you if you get her name wrong.)

I first met this lady long ago, at 16 or so. My friend and I were at the Hungry Mouth Restaurant in San Francisco – a hippie-dippy vegetarian place on Clement Street, below Walt and Magana Baptiste’s yoga and dance studio. My friend told me that if we were lucky, we might catch a glimpse of the belly dancers. And were we ever lucky! While we tucked into our spicy peanut-noodles, down the back stairs they trooped, skirts swirling and beaded hip belts jingling. They were stunning—the most interesting “older” women my young eyes had ever beheld. They must have been rehearsing for a performance, as there were at least six of them in full costume, pausing for tea and pastries. Their ripe, full breasts jiggled and threatened to spill out of their spangled bras as they leaned over the table to help themselves to treats. Their hair was long and wild, their faces slightly lined, a bit soft, and very knowing. Their flashing eyes were rimmed with kohl. Their naked bellies were soft, round, and unashamed.

“When I grow up, I want to be them!” I said.

Seven years later, an ad on a college bulletin board led me to an odd little shop, where R. assembled balloon bouquets and sent costumed characters out to deliver them. R.’s belly dancer was going back to school and agreed to train me as her replacement. What I lacked in lush curves and sultry grace, I made up for in skinny enthusiasm. I felt so damn gorgeous in my first costume, especially once I added a thick, wavy, auburn wig.

I continued to dance after moving to Germany. In fact, the belly dance scene there was, and remains, huge. Classes for orientalische Tanz attract interesting women from all walks of life, always open, welcoming, and great fun. Eventually, I found my way into a performance troupe in Würzburg called the Meharis. Our teacher, the lovely Sanna, told us this means “white racing camels,” apparently a term of high praise. The highlight of my years with the Meharis was a solo performance in which I balanced a sword on my head.

Besides a low-impact aerobic workout that’s easy on the joints (excepting the few acrobatic moves, like a sudden drop to the floor from a deep back-bend), belly dance has provided me with a wonderful sense of solidarity. I’ve danced beside a tattooed young musician, a nuclear physicist, a newspaper journalist, a teacher, a business owner, a stay-at-home mother, a government official, a professor of medicine…and we all encouraged and supported each other, reveling in the uplifting group energy. For a few hours each week, we are sisters in dance.

P.S. If you should find yourself in Tacoma, Washington, may I recommend my marvelous teacher Kat Ross. Here’s a link to her website. https://www.tacomabellydance.com/