One big mistake we can make in life is to see a situation that exists today and assume it always existed in that form. The same holds true for Oriental dance.

We’ve been active in trying to dispel myths and stereotypes, which prevent our art from receiving the recognition it deserves, and yet there’s still an important area which has been seriously and consistently overlooked: the role of men.

Our invisibility was deliberately orchestrated and has led to many false perceptions about the nature and origins of this dance, even within our own community. Many are thoroughly convinced this is an exclusively female dance and even go so far as to refuse male students.

It’s easy to understand how most people came to this conclusion: the only exposure most of the world, ourselves included, has had to Oriental dance has been professional nightclub performers, but has "cabaret" always been the arena for professionals and have professional dancers always been female?

The answer to both these questions is no: not in the past and not now.

There are two types of dancers: professionals, who perform for pay in clubs and other venues, etc. and amateurs, who dance at home and for family and close friends. Since most professional dancers learned in the amateur arena, let’s turn our attention there.

This dance was not created in secluded harems by competing concubines or temple prostitutes, but around the hearth, by simple folk too poor to afford harems or the services of prositutes. It was born in the homes and community celebrations of the peoples of Africa, the Middle East and Central Asia and thousands of years later, it’s still in the home where the majority of dance is done.

All peoples mentioned above made their contributions to this dance as it evolved over the millennia, but the spirit has remained the same. It’s a dance of celebrations and life, done at weddings, holidays, etc. and then, as now, it’s done by women, children, the young and old, as well as by men.

In her article "Dances of the Muslim People", Lois Ibn al Farouki mentions that in this amateur arena, men often participate just as enthusiastically as women do and are often better dancers than female performers hired to dance.

I’ve personally seen men in Egypt and Morocco, who were exceptional dancers. The first time was in Luxor, Egypt in 1988, with Morocco’s Secret Egypt tour. We were treated to a performance of authentic Saidi dance by Osman Balata.

He was not an entertainer, but a shopkeeper who loved dancing to the point of addiction. He did the traditional stick dances we recognize as Saidi, but what he also did, which I had never seen done by any Egyptian theater "folk" troupe, was Oriental dance: Raks Sharki.

After several minutes of manipulating the cane and doing intricate foot work, he balanced the cane on his head, while he took his scarf from around his neck and tied it around his hips and proceeded to do very heavy hip work, while also manipulating the cane. The steps were very earthy and included more footwork than I’ve seen women do, but he went through the full range of recognizable dance movements, from heavy hipwork to every variation of figure eights as well as undulations.

The next evening we were treated to a performance by the Banat Maazin Ghawazee. Once again Osman danced, but this time one of the musicians also danced for us. He was a young man, no older than 20 and thin as a rail, yet he did the exact movements the Ghawazee had done just a few moments before.

Walking through the souk, my walkman attracted the attention of a young boy who wanted to hear what I was listening to. He raised his arms over his head spiraling and waving his hands while doing what we call 'snake arms', while he circled his hips in time to the music. It was natural and spontaneous. He was not doing Oriental dance, but was expressing himself naturally through a movement vocabulary which, for him, was not exotic and mysterious, but as familiar and commonplace as the dust of the desert, which coated his face and everything around him.

In Cairo I once again witnessed that natural response. A school friend of mine was in Cairo at the same time as I. We met and he took me to a disco on Pyramid Street. The patrons were mostly college students and mostly male. The few females there were with their brothers and close friends and did not mingle outside that group.

At first I was disappointed because it had the same air as a New York dance club. They were even playing the current dance hits. All I could think was that I’d just traveled half way around the world back to New York, except all the "Blacks" and "Latinos" were now speaking Arabic: bad head trip!

I was really pissed, and then the DJ started playing Arabic pop. A cheer went up from the crowd, and the same guys that a second ago were bopping to rap music, were now "belly" dancing. I never saw isolation technique backbends, shimmies, figure eights, you name it, executed like that. I tried to dance too, but I have to tell you I could not compete. I sat myself down and took mental notes.

Any one of them could have "danced the pants off" any dancer I’d seen in the five star hotels and , unlike most of their professional counterparts, they danced with passion and soul. It was a tour de force to give Jane Fonda a heart attack.

Any doubts I might’ve still had, as to whether this was strictly a women’s dance, died on that dance floor in 1988.

It was clear that in the lands of its origin, Raks Sharki was NOT strictly a woman’s dance, it was NOT a dance of seduction, but a dance of human expression. For them there was no other way to dance, there was no sharp line dividing movement vocabulary according to gender and yet the general professional public realm was still exclusively a female domain. The dichotomy seemed unnatural. After all, this was a folk dance done by both sexes. Why then was this not reflected on the stage?

II

In the last installment we discussed the male presence in the amateur arena. Now let us turn our attention to the professional arena.

Most of the world has made the assumption that Oriental dance is a female activity because they have only been exposed to nightclub performers. What they do not know, is that this arena can only be traced back approximately to the turn of the century, at most. It’s a vestige of colonial European culture and far removed from the life of the average Middle Easterner.

Prior to the period of European influence, male professional dancers were not novelties but were quite common. In many cases, they were preferred over their female counterparts and were even present at the famous Chicago World’s Fair in 1893 but received little mention in the press. It wasn’t untill the turn of the century, in those countries where the British Raj exerted the most influence, that male professional dancers faded from prominence. The reason for this was that, overall, the British colonialist officials felt it was their duty to "civilize" the world.

In Morocco I saw male tray and Schikhatt dancers and was told that there were still male dancers in Tunisia. Both these countries were colonized by the French, who had no interest in any other culture than their own and so the local cultures remained more intact.

It wasn’t untill I returned to the States that I found evidence of male Oriental dancers in Egypt, Syria, and Turkey. While Turkey was never under British control, the conquest of Egypt by Napoleon traumatized them. For centuries they were more advanced than Europe, but they stood still in their overconfidence as Europe caught up and surpassed them.

The Turks began a process of Westernization in an attempt to catch up, most radically under Kemal Attaturk in the 1920’s, who outlawed the veil, Oriental dress, and changed the writing from the Arabic script to the Latin alphabet.

While doing research on Oriental dance at Lincoln Center, I came across an article by Leona Wood entitled "Danse du Ventre: A Fresh Appaisal". She wrote that in Turkey there’d been numerous male dancers known as Kocheks.

They were typically found in the coffee houses. Their performances were so popular, they often caused riots (you thought that sort of thing only happened at Rock concerts). They caused such disorder, the Sultan banished them from Turkey.

Much evidence confirming the existence of these rowdy dancers remains, in Turkish miniatures. In most any book of Turkish drawings you’re sure to find at least one depiction of Kocheks. Many people mistake them for women because of their dress and the preconceived myth, that all dancers were female, but comparison with the female dancers reveals their true sex.

Kocheks sometimes wore elaborate kaftans, the same as all upper-class men, but they’re most often depicted in more elaborate dress. Their costume consisted of an elaborately embroidered shirt, a metal belt, an apron and a wide elaborately embroidered skirt of a different color.

The first clue to their sex is the total absence of breasts, second the lack of jewelry, their hair is short, and on their heads they wear either men’s fur hats or skull caps, which are worn only by men.

The females on the other hand, when depicted, (which is not often), have long braids, ample cleavage, and are dressed similarly to what we mistakenly assume is "Ghawazee."

In Egypt there were also male dancers who, like their Turkish cousins, were also very popular, although their audiences were more subdued. Much information about them comes from W.E. Lane’s book Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians, and Gustave Flaubert’s Travels in Egypt.

Lane had lived in Egypt for most of his life and wrote about everything he saw, from topography to daily life. He tried to be objective, but his British/"Christian" cultural prejudices are glaring, especially in his chapters on Egyptian women and dance. Lane believed the Ghawazee and their dances were highly immoral.

He was shocked to learn that Egyptians didn’t think dance was improper, only the Ghawazee, because a decent woman shouldn’t step outdoors unveiled. He thought they were deluding themselves, and tried to prove this by stating that they also employed men to dance in the same manner.

He wrote that their attire was part male, part female, in accordance with their "unnatural profession", wearing make-up and long hair. The rest of the dress was male, consisting of a shirt, vest, baggy pants and a sash wound around the hips. Some dancers even veiled when not performing, for the sake of imitating women. Despite this unsavory description, he does confess this was a generalization.

We must keep in mind that while Lane was writing this book, England was already making plans to dominate Egypt. If it could be proved that Egypt was morally backward, public opinion would support their efforts to "civilize" it. Lane was an agent of his government, his motivation to convince his readers that Egyptians were a morally inferior people, so he deliberately chose to depict the lowest element he could find, male and female: dancers!

Gustave Flaubert, to put it mildly, had a fascination with prostitutes, both male and female. He was also convinced that the Egyptians were a morally lax people. Therefore, he felt he could give his passions free rein without guilt or blame. As a result he ferreted out every red-light district between Cairo and Aswan. He gives a description of a dancer similar to Lane’s, (with whose book he was acquainted).

His goal was to shock his readers, so it should come as no surprise that he patronized dancers, male and female, who were well known for their services as prostitutes, despite the fact that there were many dancers, male and female, who did not have to debase themselves in such a manner.

There were always actors, dancers, and buffoons, who were female impersonators.

In Morocco I saw male dancers in drag doing comedy skits. Female impersonation was common in the East, from Morocco to Japan. In fact, the Kabuki of Japan are celebrated artists even today.

However, it’s a gross misstatement to say male dance was limited to female impersonation. Proof came from the Chicago World’s Fair of 1893. The details will be given in the next installment.

III

Much ink has been spent on the stir caused by the Ghawazee at the fair, however, little was mentioned of male dancers. Evidence that they had been there came from the souvenir book printed by the fair itself.

There’s a picture of the pavilion where the Ghawazee performed. The caption says the building was where dancing girls and youths performed. There were male dancers in the Egyptian pavilion!

From the Syrian pavilion, however, there is photographic evidence. The dancer is named Muhammad. He wears a plain shirt with flaired sleeves, over which is a tight vest, around his hips is wound a scarf and he wears a voluminous skirt called a fustanella, which was almost floor length. On his head he wears a traditional Arab men’s scarf (kuffiyeh), made famous by Rudolf Valentino in "Son of the Sheik".

The caption states that of all the dancers, his performance was the most graceful and agile, despite the fact that the women received more press coverage. He was often mistaken for a woman, because to European eyes male dress meant pants. To them, the fustanella looked like a skirt (much the same way a Scottish kilt might be mistaken for a miniskirt in some circles).

Later I found a 17th ccentury woodcut of a male dancer from Syria. His outfit was almost identical to that picture of Muhammad. The only differences were this dancer was wearing a plaid shirt and his Fustanella reached just below his knees, under which were leggings, buttoned behind the calf and he wore a fez. He is accompanied by two female musicians. The caption reads, "music players and a dancer typical of the 17th century."

The costume of these dancers is very similar to those worn by the male dancers of Tunisia today. Both Syria and Tunisia were once a part of the Roman Empire. Similar dress was also worn by many ordinary men, with the exception of the hip scarf, throughout the Roman and Ottoman Empires.

Although male dancers had once been very popular, by the turn of the century their numbers had drastically decreased. As a matter of fact, even Ghawazee had become a rare sight. Travelers who went to Egypt during this period remarked at the absence of these famous performers.

The early 20th century would see the birth of a new kind of dancer that would overshadow and outshine both of them. Exact details of the reason for the decline of male dancers are uncertain. We do know that the Ghawazee suffered a geat blow as a result of their banishment from Cairo by Muhammad Ali Pasha in the mid 19th century.

Lane wrote that many of them had been forced to repent of their past activities and settle down. By the end of the century they were conspicuously absent from public festivals at which they had previously been the main attractions. There was a similar decline in the number of male dancers.

It would seem that as England exerted more control over Egypt and the Ottoman Empire strove to Westernize itself, the appreciation for these entertainers declined. More and more of the ruling class educated abroad in European universities were adopting a pseudo-European world view, especially towards their own culture.

Where a few decades prior, as Lane stated, the locals found no shame in their dances, a later Egyptian scholar described it as being inferior to ballet, which was "artistic", while Sharki was designed to attract men. An interesting observation, at a time when ballet was considered improper for viewing by young girls and the ballerina was considered a prostitute by the Europeans!

When the Suez canal was completed, the ruler of Egypt exclaimed "Now my country is no longer a part of Africa but of Europe!"

Egypt began to build opera halls and invite classical orchestras to perform, but while Egyptians raced to embrace the West, the British, in their hypocrisy, flocked to Egypt in search of the "exotic". They came looking for the Arabian Nights and fair-skinned, half-naked harem girls, like the ones in the Orientalist paintings. If reality could not provide them with it, they would make their fantasy into reality.

Being eager to curry favor with these wealthy, powerful foreigners Egyptians sought to satisfy the British demand for titillation. Prostitution skyrocketed; the red-light district was now filled with women dressed up to look like little girls and the Opera Casino, a dance hall, was opened by a Lebanese woman, Badia Masabni, which catered solely to the British and Turkish ruling class.

The main attraction was the "Oriental Dancer". Badia’s advertisement stated that she had created the New "Oriental dance". The dancers were all female, fair-skinned and wore the two-piece costume, which has now become the standard uniform.

The dancers were also trained in the latest European social dances by European and American teachers. The dancers began to cover more space, whereas before they remained practically rooted to the spot. The modern night club dancer had been born!

It would seem that because the British regarded male dancers, even in their own counry, as being effeminate, they did not waste time in communicating this to their Egyptian subjects. The Egyptians, eager to gain the favor and approval of their new lords, now considered male dancers to be one of the elements of backward savagery which had kept them in ignorance. For this reason, they were to be avoided.

On the other hand, the glitzed-up harem girl with the naked abdomen, although a foreign creation, held the fascination of the invaders and so was embraced and tolerated, in an attempt to gain acceptance. As the saying goes, racism separates men, but sexism unites them.

Because the Muslim world never regarded dance as an art, they never made any historical documentation or description of the dance. As a result, by the time the nightclub dancer was born, though there’d been a time when men also performed this dance, the ones who remembered didn’t think it was important to mention it. Today the average Middle Eastern dancer is as ignorant of the fact that this dance was once performed in public by men, as is the rest of the world.

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