Why?
Something I think I've not done, is really, deeply, talk about what's going on here. My dreams for this site, if you will. After reading Greenwald, I think I need to explain a bit further what's going on with APOSTATE, deep down.
I mean, right now, I have damn few readers here. Some of that's simply because I don't promote enough...and some of it's because of the content. Politics isn't sexy. Calls to arms aren't really sexy. Dance history is traditionally boring. And I can be downright dialectic.
In short, I bore the shit out of anyone just dropping in.
So why continue? In part, because of the basic remit -- I'm trying to poke into the nooks and crannies of this dance form, to see what we've left behind, or are unwilling to explore. The very things that make the Internet such a perfect medium for talking about the dance -- the extension of the "us vs. them" mentality, the "casual sisterhood" connection that's a mile long and a inch deep, the discussions about music and clothing and gigs and makeup that have gone 'round in circles -- all these are the pits I'm trying to avoid. Sure, some of it's because I don't wear makeup, and I'll never put on bedlah, and I still can't get a hold of Melodia or her team to make me a pair of The Damned Pants --
But in the end? We have to find ways of Doing Better. We have to stop siting in the corners of virtual coffeehouses, bitching about Hillary Duff. I feel, in my bones, that we, as dancers, are the ones responsible for the form, for the presentation of the form. That we are the ones who have to write the stars and the music video people and the journalists, and explain, over and again, why they are wrong. That if they fail, it's in part because we ourselves still cling to too many fantasies, too many myths, and not just because the myth makes what little money we can, and props up egos with promises of ancient ways.
History is written by the people on the ground. Right now, take a look at the history we dancers have left behind in the media, and shudder at the many origins, few of which are backed by anything like scholarship. How can you demand respect when you pass off myth without a critical eye? Look at the undercutters, at the people eager to sell themselves short for "just another gig". You can retrain some of them, but you have to reach them, first and foremost. And disdainful whispers and screaming posts online send the wrong message.
What if we joined together, like a union, and demanded not just honest wages, but honest treatment? What if we dancers finally, as a group, took responsibility for the next generation, be they raqs sharqi, ATS, Tribal, or the next big thing? What if we organized ourselves to present a strong face to the media, and a strong back for beginning dancers? What if we started to actually write down the collected wisdom, and shared it openly and honestly? What if we made it easier for a dancer to move from student to performer to professional to businesswoman?
Imagine, just for a second, the difference all that would make in your life as a dancer. imagine being part of a truly healthy and vibrant dancer ecosystem. Wouldn't it be nice?
That's the core of APOSTATE, when I talk about raqs. It's not just about me bitching, it's about one man finding a way out of no way. It's about my undying love of this dance form, and trying to stop being catty, and starting to be angry. And then taking that anger, and, like and Old Testament Prophet, spreading the word that the world can be better, must be better. And then trying like mad to have others talk about these issues, to try to bring us together.
It's one day at a time, one post at a time, one fight at a time.
I mean, right now, I have damn few readers here. Some of that's simply because I don't promote enough...and some of it's because of the content. Politics isn't sexy. Calls to arms aren't really sexy. Dance history is traditionally boring. And I can be downright dialectic.
In short, I bore the shit out of anyone just dropping in.
So why continue? In part, because of the basic remit -- I'm trying to poke into the nooks and crannies of this dance form, to see what we've left behind, or are unwilling to explore. The very things that make the Internet such a perfect medium for talking about the dance -- the extension of the "us vs. them" mentality, the "casual sisterhood" connection that's a mile long and a inch deep, the discussions about music and clothing and gigs and makeup that have gone 'round in circles -- all these are the pits I'm trying to avoid. Sure, some of it's because I don't wear makeup, and I'll never put on bedlah, and I still can't get a hold of Melodia or her team to make me a pair of The Damned Pants --
But in the end? We have to find ways of Doing Better. We have to stop siting in the corners of virtual coffeehouses, bitching about Hillary Duff. I feel, in my bones, that we, as dancers, are the ones responsible for the form, for the presentation of the form. That we are the ones who have to write the stars and the music video people and the journalists, and explain, over and again, why they are wrong. That if they fail, it's in part because we ourselves still cling to too many fantasies, too many myths, and not just because the myth makes what little money we can, and props up egos with promises of ancient ways.
History is written by the people on the ground. Right now, take a look at the history we dancers have left behind in the media, and shudder at the many origins, few of which are backed by anything like scholarship. How can you demand respect when you pass off myth without a critical eye? Look at the undercutters, at the people eager to sell themselves short for "just another gig". You can retrain some of them, but you have to reach them, first and foremost. And disdainful whispers and screaming posts online send the wrong message.
What if we joined together, like a union, and demanded not just honest wages, but honest treatment? What if we dancers finally, as a group, took responsibility for the next generation, be they raqs sharqi, ATS, Tribal, or the next big thing? What if we organized ourselves to present a strong face to the media, and a strong back for beginning dancers? What if we started to actually write down the collected wisdom, and shared it openly and honestly? What if we made it easier for a dancer to move from student to performer to professional to businesswoman?
Imagine, just for a second, the difference all that would make in your life as a dancer. imagine being part of a truly healthy and vibrant dancer ecosystem. Wouldn't it be nice?
That's the core of APOSTATE, when I talk about raqs. It's not just about me bitching, it's about one man finding a way out of no way. It's about my undying love of this dance form, and trying to stop being catty, and starting to be angry. And then taking that anger, and, like and Old Testament Prophet, spreading the word that the world can be better, must be better. And then trying like mad to have others talk about these issues, to try to bring us together.
It's one day at a time, one post at a time, one fight at a time.
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Wow. My hat is off to you, Mr. Hill. You may have few readers now, but those you have are probably as passionate about the dance and where it comes from as you are. I publish a magazine and Web site for the New England Middle-Eastern music and dance community, and one of my primary goals is to help my readership understand and appreciate our history, *especially* given that that Boston-area is the major tap root for Middle-Eastern dance in America. It's an uphill battle, which I'm sure you can appreciate. Would definitely like to have a longer conversation with you at some point...right now the day job calls! Please help yourself to a copy of my magazine at www.bellydancenewengland.com/currentissue.pdf, and I will gladly link to your blog from my site.