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The Bellydancer
I don’t know what profession I want to go into once I am out of college, but one thing is for sure: I never want to stop bellydancing. It is my passion, my excitement, my freedom.
The audience clapped politely as the spotlights lit up the stage, and the music began. A veiled dancer stepped out onto the stage, taking slow, graceful steps. As she walked to the edge of the stage, her hips moved under cover of the veil. Only the slightest movement was seen through the silken cloth. The music began to change, and the dancer’s hand went to the edge of the veil that covered her head, her fingers grasping the edge. Suspense fell over the crowd as the music paused.
The music started again, playing an upbeat tune. Right on cue, the dancer pulled off the veil, holding it behind her. Her deep red hair fell over her shoulders, adorned with jewelry. The black, blue, and silver costume shimmered and moved with her body as she undulated and traveled across the stage. Blue jewels decorated her entire body, including a set on her navel. The coins on her top and skirt jingled and chimed as she shimmied with the music.
Several members in the audience scooted themselves forward to better see the dancer as she danced and shifted with the music. She seemed to them to be in a trance, skating across the stage. The music shifted once again, and the dancer traveled to the floor, continuing her dance. She twisted and moved with grace as she turned herself perpendicular to the audience. Her hands went to the air, and she began to lean back, arching her back and bringing the top of her head to the floor. A young girl gasped and tugged on her mother’s sleeve as the dancer continued to dance, rolling her stomach.
The music changed again, and the dancer lifted herself back up to her knees and then to her feet, her cheeks lightly flushed. The music continued to speed and change for the finale. The dancer stayed right on beat, spinning the veil around her. A droplet of sweat formed on her temple and rolled down her cheek, resting on her cheek until the final moment of the song when the dancer dropped the veil, brought up her hands, and posed. In the silence that followed, the droplet continued its descent to the floor, leaving a memento of its origin on the stage. The young girl in the front began to clap, soon followed by her mother. A person in the back of the room stood, clapping, and soon many followed, filling the room with praise and cheers.
The dancer beamed brightly, and the announcer came on once more, “Give it up for Artemis! What a beauty! ...” She walked off of the stage, too excited to hear the rest of the praise.
Another girl ran up to greet the dancer, “Diana! You did great! That was awesome!”
“It was, wasn’t it?” Diana returned with a sly smile.
The two girls laughed and hugged. “I don’t think I can follow that at all!” The girl told her as the announcer began the next introduction.
“Of course you can.” Diana assured her, “Now go! You’re audience is waiting.” She pushed the girl back towards the entrance to the stage.
The girl let out a last giggle, and then hurried to meet the waiting crowd.
Diana sighed and looked for a place to sit down. A small layer of sweat covered her. She grabbed one of the handkerchiefs kept backstage for the dancers, and dabbed her face as she let herself fall into a chair. A smile graced her lips. She did well. It was a great performance. She couldn’t help but think about how much she loved this. This was her niche, her source of freedom.
