Barbara Walters chats with Forward Syria
Swaying between art and seduction
Discussing monetary policy with the man in charge
Where the earth screams in horror
02/17/2011 - Issue 48
Shalimar reveals all
by Lauren Williams
As the most famous of the “new generation” of belly dancers in Damascus, the one and only Shalimar has her say on the ongoing debate over art and sex.
Shalimar is dressed in a black leather t-shirt, smoking a cigarette, in a downtown Damascus cafe. Perched next to her on the pink velour couchette is an un-creased copy of the popular novelist, Ahlam Mosteghanemi’s latest book on the female experience, Forgetness.com.
No doubt some of the men in the room recognize the voluptuous beauty from her second home, the stage on the 8th floor of the Semiramis Hotel. At 12am every night for the last ten years, the 28-year-old Palestinian-Lebanese dancer has taken to the stage to perform her belly dancing routine to enraptured crowds.
The young dancer has developed somewhat of a cult following in those ten years and regular clientele now make up the majority of her loyal audience.
Despite the routine, the talented dancer, who has suspended her law degree at AUB temporarily, says she never grows tired of her craft.
“Give me music and a stage and I’m happy,” she says.
Shalimar, who goes by her first name only, learned to dance from her mother, a professional Caracalla Theater performer in Lebanon. As a child she was literally plucked from the crowd when a restaurant owner recognized her talent as she danced freely while dining with her family.
Arriving in Damascus in 1997, the young dancer approached the Semiramis hotel and after seeing her dance just once, the hotel manager offered her an exclusive contract for five years.
Ten years and six marriages later, the young dancer says she has built a solid name out of her dancing passion.
Citing 1960s stars, Suheir Zaki and Samia Jama’al amongst her inspirations, she says she no longer suffers the negative stereotypes conservative Syrians tend to associate with her craft.
“I am a follower of the old school of dance, but I add some of my own style and technique.”
“Certainly the new generation of dancers tend to show off the flesh, rather than the dance itself.”
Popular depictions of belly dancers on screen have certainly perverted the image of the dance, but then again, says Shalimar, conservative Damascus is also partly to blame for the lack of acceptance of the dance as a craft.
“Here, it’s still kind of something forbidden. There are no schools for the dance for instance - they call them gyms.”
“People tend to think that dancers are uneducated, people who don’t read, who have to dance out of desperation.”
“I used to get that kind of response, but now I have established a name for myself, they know me and they respect me as an artist.”
Competition from those who cheapen the craft is no longer a problem.
Instead, she says, she tries to downplay the seductive side of the art, by dressing more conservatively than her “cheaper” counterparts.
“The look and how revealing the dress of the dancer is makes an impression that lasts five minutes, the rest is in the dance.”
Seduction, she says, is a natural offshoot of the relation between solo performance and any audience.
“There is always going to be a seductive quality to a dance where a woman is the centrepiece for a male-dominated crowd, but the same goes for a male singer on stage in a female-dominated crowd.”
Having recently married for the sixth time, Shalimar says she will never stay with a man who prevents her from dancing.
Her dream is to open a school for the dance, where the shame associated with it is lifted.
“The details are still being worked out, but I hope it will open next year,” she says.
