Review of "Al-Raqisa" Episode 2

Disclaimer: I'm not trying to be snarky or offensive with any of my observations, so please don't take this personally. Understand that if you're going to put yourself in the public eye, then you have to expect and accept criticism.

The other day I posed a controversial question on Facebook. Is it fair to pit Egyptian dancers against foreign dancers in a competition? Almost all of the Egyptians who responded said no. Egyptians have a natural advantage in that they've been Egyptians their whole lives. They grew up with Egyptian music, the Arabic language, and have been dancing baladi since the day they were born. Interestingly, the non-Egyptians responded by saying that it's perfectly fair to compare Egyptian dancers with foreign ones because the latter compensate for their cultural disadvantage with years of hard work, passion, and amazing technique. While I generally agree with that, and while there are many excellent foreign dancers, I have to say that I'm with the Egyptians on this one. It's not that Egyptians are inherently and always better dancers than non-Egyptians, but that both groups bring a different set of skills to the table. Comparing the two would be like comparing apples to steaks. One is pretty and polished, but the other is juicy and well done.

Watching round one of the "Al-Raqisa" competition really drove this home for me. Three dancers competed in front of Dina and the other two judges (a Tunisian actress and an Egyptian comedian). The first dancer was Australian, the second French Algerian, and the third, Egyptian. None of them went through a real audition process by the way. What I felt after watching all of their performances was that it was impossible to compare the first two with the Egyptian dancer. Granted everybody was nervous and probably didn't perform as well as they would have liked to, but I found the first two dancers to be technical and somewhat stiff. The Egyptian dancer was the exact opposite. She barely had any moves, but the few that she did were very juicy... very Egyptian... very baladi. She danced to the original version of a shaabi baladi song called "Ya Gazelle Il-Darb Ahmar"-- a song that most foreign dancers have never heard of unless they've worked in Egypt. She entered the stage with a melaya leff, and then left it to continue dancing in her typical baladi way, replete with baladi facial expressions and baladi gestures. The whole routine was improvised and simple, but undeniably Egyptian.

Contrast that with the first two dancers, who may or may not have been choreographed. The first one danced to a modern version of "Zay El-Asal." The second dancer chose a modern instrumental arrangement of "Zal El-Hawa." This right here is very revealing, as it highlights another difference between Egyptian and foreign dancers. For starters, the average Egyptian dancer neither has access to modern arrangements of older classics, nor would they necessarily choose to dance to them if they did (Randa, Camelia, etc. aren't your average Egyptian dancer). On the other hand, the average foreign dancer doesn't usually have access to original recordings, nor is her knowledge of Egyptian music as vast as Egyptians'. She relies on newer versions of older songs usually arranged by Arab musicians living in the west. Most often these modern compositions are lacking in proper orchestration, lyrics, and soul. 

Then there's the issue of how does one compare a dancer performing to a classic piece with a dancer performing shaabi baladi? These are two different types of dance that require different skills. And lastly, how do you compare someone being who they are with someone trying to be who they're not?  

I know this last question is going to cause a lot of anger, so let me unpack all of its assumptions and be upfront. First, this art form is Egyptian. Or Turkish for those who do Turkish style. It is not "international." Yes, it is practiced all over the world, much like salsa, but to deny its origins is ridiculous. I mean, does anyone deny that salsa is Cuban just because they're doing it in Asia? Secondly and because of that, foreigners doing Middle Eastern dance are being something they're not-- Egyptian/Arab/Turkish/Middle Eastern. NOT THAT THERE'S ANYTHING NECESSARILY WRONG WITH THAT. Just sayin... But this is why many of us don't get it. Because we weren't born into THAT. Even if we claim we're not trying to be THAT, the reality is that we are THAT in some shape or form. The movement vocabulary and aesthetic we're using is Egyptian. Even if we apply it to western music. Even if we do it without that Egyptian "feeling." So yes, doing this dance means being someone we're not, on some level. Which creates a lot of room for "getting it wrong," but also a lot of room for creativity and personal development. The way a foreign dancer can succeed in this dance is by creating her own self in the process of imitating someone else. I know that's probably difficult to digest. But read that sentence over and over again until it sinks in. Creating your own unique "you" in the process of copying someone else. And then accepting that "you" and making it the best it can be.

Thirdly, this is not a dance of privilege. Whether we like it or not, this is a dance that developed over centuries of oppression, colonialism, religious conservatism, sexism, seduction, poverty, prostitution-- in short, deprivation. It's been banned and regulated, shunned and condemned. This is partially the reason Egyptians frown upon it (and perhaps why we love it so much). It's not a fairy tale yay let's put on our fairy tutus kind of dance, however much we like to promote that myth in the west. This is important because this culture of deprivation that has come to define a large part of Egypt affects the way Egyptians bodies move. How they dance, how they walk, how they talk, how they laugh, how they fight, etc. And I'm not talking about emotion here. I'm talking about something much deeper, more primal and more subconscious than that. (Ever hear of the song "Walk Like an Egyptian?" The Bangles may have been goofing on Pharaonic culture, but they were definitely on to something.) This is why even though we're all doing the same steps when we're dancing, they look different on Egyptians than they do on us. And it's very hard to replicate that unless we were born and raised here. Even those of us who have spent years living and dancing in Egypt don't really wind up moving *exactly* like Egyptians. Again, that may not be the goal, and it doesn't mean we're not as good or sometimes better. We may come really close as result of our learning and being immersed in the culture, but at the end of the day, deprivation isn't in our DNA. Most of us come from nice western countries that allowed us to get an education and encouraged us to pursue art. And those of us who move to Egypt prop ourselves up in ritzy areas like Zamalek and Doqqi and are thus able to avoid the deprivation, be it financial or social. I'm not faulting anyone for that by the way. Deprivation is cruel, so it's only natural that we'd want to avoid it. But we can't deny that this culture of deprivation is in large part responsible for how Egyptians operate.

Which brings me to my next point. The Australian contestant incorporated a lot of acting into her routine. This was something that the Tunisian judge picked up on and addressed. I'm mentioning this because it's a problem that a lot of non-Egyptian dancers have. Because we don't speak Arabic and because we don't know how Egyptians do emotion, we wind up resorting to exaggerated and frequent emotional gestures, thinking this will make us look more authentic. In reality it looks like we're playing charades. Egyptian dancers, on the other hand, don't do this because they don't feel the need to compensate for anything. They incorporate gestures naturally and only when necessary. What I've noticed is that unless a foreigner spends years living in Egypt, it's nearly impossible for her to emote like an Egyptian. And even then, it won't be exactly the same.

This is where the Egyptian dancer has an advantage over the foreign one. But what about the advantages that a foreigner might have?  Like impressive technical mastery. Stage presence. Professional costumes. Unquestioning love and enthusiasm for the art. Conviction. Money. Privilege. One thing's for sure. None of the lesser known Egyptian dancers such as those that appear in this contest have all or even most of those. Which is why it seems wrong, not just odd, to compare them with non-Egyptian dancers. For the foreigner, belly dance is a form of recreation, even if it's paid. For the Egyptian, it's a means of survival. For the foreigner, it's a source of pride. For the Egyptian, it's a source of shame. The foreigner often pours more money into the dance than she makes. The Egyptian tries to make as much money out of the dance as possible so she can sustain herself and her family. For her, the idea of paying money to learn technique is unheard of, as dance is second nature.

But what I really don't like about this competition is that not only does it make unfair comparisons, but it displays and therefore exploits the facts I've just mentioned. This became evident in the comments each contestant made after her performance. When the translator asked the two foreigners to respond to their dancing and the judges' opinions, both of them became reflective.and addressed their dancing. Then came the Egyptian dancer. She said she was really happy the judges chose her because she didn't expect it. She said Dina had previously told her that she needed to train because her skill level wasn't that great. The girl then said maybe she could learn some of the fancy the technique from the foreign dancers, and maybe they could learn some of the Egyptian sassiness from her. She ended with a teary "I hope you love me the way I love you, I'm not asking for more than that," directed at her family. And then started crying.

That right there explained it all. Unlike the foreign dancers, this girl was understandably concerned about how her family (and by extension society) thought about her, perhaps more than about her dancing. To me, that means please don't hate me for who I am and what I do. And it revealed a lot about who she was. She herself said she comes from one of the poorer neighborhoods in Cairo (Imbaba), which means she's probably struggled more than most of us can imagine. And not just financially. She herself might have a love/hate relationship with her line of work, because her culture has taught her that dancing is wrong.

I'm sorry, but I just don't see how you can compare this type of dancer with a dancer for whom dancing is an art, a sisterhood, a sport, a love affair, and something she spends all her money on. Competitions are *fair*only when all of the competitors have similar backgrounds and have had similar opportunities. What does a privileged American belly dancer for example, have in common with a poor Egyptian dancer? Nothing. Not opportunity, not classes, not technique, not worldview, probably not even passion. So how could you compare them? What criteria could possibly be used to judge between them *fairly?* None.

Perhaps this explains the judges. Two of them have absolutely nothing to do with dance. When asked what their criteria for judging the contestants would be, they both said something wishy-washy along the lines of "whichever dancer succeeds in conveying to me the essence of raqs sharqi is the one I'll pick." You see, that's how broad and meaningless the judging criteria has to be when the competitors are too diverse. Of course Dina said she'd be looking out for technique, feeling, and stage presence-- being the only dancer on the judging panel, she had to say that. But in reality the whole thing is a farce. Comparisons cannot be made between two things that are essentially different.

Other observations about the episode

Aside from the entire premise of the show being shaky, there were other problems with it. Like, it was boring. I swear I never thought I'd say this about a program that's caused so much controversy, but I found myself zoning out a couple of times and having to hit rewind so that I could pay attention to what I missed. And it's not because I couldn't understand it either! I speak Arabic and English, so imagine what watching this was like for those who don't speak both languages. Not only was it a bit boring, but the whole format was sloppy. There were too many languages being spoken, and the translation was clumsy. Shows like this don't lend themselves to translation nicely. 

I also thought there needed to be a "Simon" type judge--someone to make astute observations about the contestants' dancing in a slightly offensive but funny way. That's what made American Idol so popular. And why almost every similar show thereafter has adopted that format. (The oh-so-offensive Howard Stern is currently filling that role on America's Got Talent, and he does it wonderfully.) Sure, that may not be conducive to "sisterhood," but then again neither was this competition. No competition is, really. And once a dancer places herself in that type of setting, she's no longer protected by the rules of sisterhood, namely the ones about not upsetting anyone's ego with much needed criticism. 

Then I put myself in the shoes of Egyptian viewers. If I, a foreign belly dancer, didn't find the show entertaining, why would the Egyptian GP want to watch a series of unknown dancers competing for a meaningless title. Surely there are more interesting things on TV?

Oh and what was the point of deploying backup dancers with each contestant? Not only were they super corny and distracting, but the foreign contestants didn't know how to interact with them. Background dancers are an Egyptian thing. Belly dancers who don't work in Egypt cannot be expected to know how to involve them in their performances. Especially if their performances don't call for them.

Also just the architecture of the theater gave the impression that this was a Mickey Mouse production. It seemed that the audience, if there was one, was not that big. The stage was meh. The judges didn't even have a nice table to connect themselves. They all just sat in their individual thrones. Not that a reality show in Egypt has to look exactly like American or European ones, but they could have at least put more effort into the "grandeur" aspect of the show.

Another thing that really bothered me was the cast. Not only were a mere seven out of the twenty seven dancers Egyptian, but the costume designer, the show's choreographer, and one of the judges weren't Egyptian. You would think that a production made in Egypt by Egyptians about Egyptian dance at a time when Egyptian nationalism is on steroids would involve more Egyptians! God knows there's no shortage of Egyptian talent out there to choose from. From world renowned instructors like Mahmoud Reda, Farida Fahmy, and Raqia Hassan, to gifted costume designers like Eman Zaki and Sahar Okasha, the show definitely could have benefited from their participation as judges, choreographers, and designers. Also, they could have made the winner of the show an Egyptian. That would have been great for a nation working on its collective self esteem. But oops, I'm getting ahead of myself there. Let's backtrack. They let an Egyptian win the first round... :)

...actually now that I think about it, this show is doing the exact opposite for collective Egyptian self esteem. I noticed at the beginning of the episode when all of the dancers introduced themselves, there were flash forwards of some the Egyptian dancers at their worst moments. They showed one Egyptian contestant crying hysterically. Another one screaming at the camera. Another pissed off, and so on. Interestingly, they only did this to the Egyptian contestants. The rest of the foreign dancers didn't have any negative snippets attached to their intros. Whatever the reason, it left me wondering why they would present the Egyptian dancers in such a light. As if society doesn't already think of them as outcasts. As if they don't have enough problems without trying to make them look bad. Egyptian dancers need to be propped up, not dragged down. Shame on them.

Ok, this concludes my review of the second episode of Al-Raqisa. Stay tuned for more about the origins of the show and what it's really about. I know most of you sense that something is a little strange. And on that note, I'm so glad I decided not to participate in this show. Even if they lied and told the world that they "rejected" me in retaliation.