In the Belly of the Best

For belly dancers who take themselves and their art seriously (sometimes way too seriously), the downside of profiting from a lucrative trend is the inevitable dilution of the local dancing gene pool. Most people look at belly dancing as a pleasant diversion, a sensuous performance by a woman in a fancy bra. In a rootless, culturally adolescent place like Miami, the market demand for young, beautiful women willing to shake their colitas for tips runs smack into the ostensible goddess-girl power aspect of the dance, in which ample hips and a mastery of technique signal a uniquely feminine aesthetic. "When a dancer is performing, she is transparent," opines Bozenka. "When you see a dancer faking it, it shows."

More than one dancer has succumbed to the lure of cosmetic enhancement, skimpy costuming, and sexy choreography to get gigs. If there's one thing Miami has in abundance, it's fresh, young immigrants willing to work cheap. "The South Americans have undercut the whole game," gripes Hanan, voicing a common complaint among experienced dancers. "They'll dance for nothing.

"I consider myself a dancer with a mission and a message," she adds. "Miami's value system does not necessarily find itself reflected in that mission. People go to happy hour with a belly dancer on a bar and think it's marvelous. They want the illusion of sensuality without the depth. Yes, it pisses me off."

Samir Al-barq, owner of Maroosh, a Coral Gables restaurant that employs dancers to go with the Middle Eastern cuisine, says he gets young women wanting to dance in his place all the time. "Every week somebody wants to dance here," he says. "I have four main dancers, all professionals. When somebody new knocks on the door, my dancers right away want to know what her qualifications are. Usually, once I see the costume, I know if she's serious about her job. If she's willing to spend $500 or more for a costume, you know she is [serious]."

Al-barq claims he insists on using only quality dancers and paying them rather than letting them rely solely on tips, but he admits that many other places around town aren't so choosy. "On Lincoln Road, you'll see them. They put them up in a cage sometimes and it's just a girl shaking up there," he says. Al-barq credits master teachers such as Dallal and Jamal with producing most of the local dancers who wouldn't be caught dead in a cage above a bar. But he refuses to express a preference for any one dancer. "They're all good," he offers. "I'm dating one of them, so I'm not getting into that. It really depends on their muse or their mood, how good they are." (Fatahi is equally skittish at the prospect of trampling on dancer egos. "No way," he laughs. "I have to work with these women.")

Dallal recalls that when certain students decided to leave her troupe, the emotional trauma was often akin to a teenager leaving home for the first time. "Sometimes if people want to leave their teacher they get guilt and they project it back onto the teacher."

But she thinks that her best students have largely weathered the rough patches in the belly-dance world because she grounded them in solid technique. "I was really strict. There were rules about how they danced and how they presented themselves. They had to come in with perfect makeup and costume. Certain techniques had to be in order. Like finger cymbals have to be in rhythm. If you do a hip drop, you have to point your toes, straighten your leg and not lift it too high.... You have to use your muscles so everything is in line, in the rhythm. People got a really solid foundation that way."

For Dallal, the reward has been developing a word-of-mouth reputation for producing quality dancers. A handful, including Dallal, frequently get international dancing gigs (parties, weddings, and workshops), usually in Latin America or the Caribbean. They can pay as much as $700 a night plus airfare and accommodations. "Those gigs are gotten solely on reputation and they never hire anyone sight unseen," Dallal says. "You have to be established. It helps to have videos on the market and a Website."

After more than a decade, however, she's restless. Sometime next fall she plans to turn over her Mid Eastern Dance Exchange to a successor and move to Hong Kong. "I love Miami, but I'm getting a little bored," she adds. "I need a new challenge."

Already there is a tiny rippling of intrigue in the moist, heavy air over South Beach, tapping into those dancing egos. Who is the anointed heir and will she be able to fill the power vacuum left by Dallal? "I think if she leaves, it will be a loss," allows Hanan. "She changed the history and culture of belly dancing in South Florida."