S#!t Orientalists Say...

 Is it necessary to agree with a source if the information it provides offers valuable insight into a particular historical period? Absolutely not! Knowledge doesn’t come with a loyalty oath—unless you're nostalgically clinging to the golden age of armchair Orientalism.

So today, dear Dorothy, we dive headfirst into the vast and murky abyss shaped by centuries of Western engagement with the so-called 'Orient'—a construct often informed less by nuanced observation and more by projection, fantasy, and the occasional bout of swaggering superiority complex.

Here’s what you can expect from this blog post.

I will provide ten quotes that, in my opinion, enhance our understanding of the cultural environment of Egyptian entertainment before the Golden Era of belly dance (and Egyptian cinema). The primary focus of these quotes will be their relevance to raqs sharqi. I’ll do my absolute best to keep any snarky remarks to myself—though no promises—and, wherever applicable, I will also highlight what I found particularly valuable in each account, if only to suggest that not all Orientalist rambling is created equal.

I will abstain from using formal quotation styles and citation standards typically found in academic writing. This is by no means an academic work. You won’t find specific page numbers either—my hidden agenda is to encourage you to read the source material yourself. Or at the very least, master the noble art of the search-in-file function. However, the references should give you all you need—should you feel compelled to undertake your own delightfully frustrating journey down that academic rabbit hole.

There’s no particular order of priority in which the quotes will appear—this isn’t a dramatic 'Top 10' countdown. Nor will they be presented chronologically, because that would imply a level of order and discipline I’m simply not pretending to have. Consider this a loose (and chaotic) collection of things to ponder.

Before we begin, however, indulge me in one extra quote to set the stage. It needs no commentary—though I assure you, I was tempted.

“Tis a particular pleasure to me here to read the voyages to the Levant, which are generally so far remov’d from Truth and so full of Absurditys I am very well diverted with ’em. They never fail giving you an Account of the Women, which ’tis certain they never saw, and talking very wisely of the Genius of the Men, into whose Company they are never admitted, and very often describe Mosques, which they dare not peep into.” (Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, The Turkish Embassy Letters (1717–1718), ed.  Teresa Heffernan, Daniel O'Quinn, Broadview Press, 2012. )

1. “Solemn Arabians in every fantastic dress, some in modern coats and fes, others with turbans and jewelled robes, sit about smoking their pipes, and without a smile on their countenance, while a girl laden with jewels and ropes of pearls on her neck, and in every plait of her hair, twists and twirls about the stage with solemn slow iteration. She has on her hands rough castanets with which she beats the maddening time to a tune so hideous that the European nerves tremble at it. Her feet scarcely seem to move. But the expression comes from the centre of the body, which shakes like jelly. On and on she goes, round and round, perpetually twisting, wagging her body just as some people can wag their noses and their ears, until at last she sinks exhausted on the sofa” (Clement Scott. Egyptian Dancing. Evelyn Observer, and South and East Bourke Record. February 2, 1894.)

Though I risk sounding like a broken record, I implore you to read the full article! Yes, the print quality leaves much to be desired—but it’s mercifully short, so your eyesight should survive. It’s… quite something. However! I did promise not to label every quote with 'jerk,' tempting though it may be. What’s particularly interesting here, in my opinion, is that we’re offered not only a glimpse into the dance dynamic itself, but also a brief description of what both the dancer and the audience are wearing—details that vividly set the tone of the evening. 

2. “I dined last night with Mustafa, who again had the dancing-girls for some Englishmen to see. Seleem Efendi got the doctor, who was of the party, to prescribe for him all about his ailments, as coolly as possible. He as usual sat by me on the divan, and during the pause in the dancing, called " El Maghribeeyeh," the best dancer, to come and talk to us. She kissed my hand, sat on her heels before us, and at once laid aside the professional gaillardise of manner, and talked very nicely in very good Arabic, and with perfect propriety, more like a man than a woman ; she seemed very intelligent. What a thing we should think it, for a worshipful magistrate to call up a girl of that character to talk to a lady!” (Lady Lucie Duff Gordon. Letters From Egypt (1863-1865). Macmillan. 1865.) 

Imagine that—a performer with a brain! 

If your vocabulary is as unrefined as mine, fear not—‘gaillardise’ simply means ‘cheerfulness.’ But doesn’t it read as a textbook case of the dancer adapting a stage persona? 

Admittedly, this account would have been far more valuable had the lady offered even the vaguest description of the actual performance. But alas—we must make do with crumbs, as always.

3. “Later, several of us visited a native music hall where Egyptian girls danced and sang to the accompaniment of native musicians. The audience of native men smoked cigarettes, seldom speaking, except when specially pleased, when they would raise both hands toward the stage and call "Allah !" "Allah !" sometimes tossing coins to the singer who was a beautiful girl, — who smiled and sang again and again. There were no words — only ah, or oh — or 00 — but the tunes were full of suggestions and memories that charmed the initiated. To me they were sweetly clear, high notes with a peculiarly haunting, plaintive melody. There was no drinking and no boisterous behavior.” (Etta Josselyn Giffin.The Eleventh Convention of the American Association of Workers for the Blind. Connecticut Institute for the Blind. 1911.) 

This account is by far an outlier—and a gem—in its unusually positive view of the traditional Egyptian entertainment scene. The author focuses primarily on the singer in this passage, though she does mention the dancers. And isn’t there just a hint of bewilderment at the absence of 'boisterous behaviour'? I find that rather fascinating.

4. “In front of these performers, and facing us, were eight dancing girls, or Ghawazees, seated, a la mode turque, on the floor, and dressed in various and most brilliantly-coloured garments. I may describe, for example, that of the best-looking (and Ghawazees seldom have much pretensions to beauty), a Nubian girl. She wore a tightly-fitting chemise of yellow colour, the sleeves of which came down to her wrists, where they were fastened by a narrow band of silver work. Hanging from her shoulders was an open-breasted green tunic, the loose folds of which reached almost to her ankles, disclosing when she danced a pair of gorgeous red trousers.” (Julian T. Biddulph Arnold. Palms and temples; being notes of a four months' voyage upon the Nile. Tinsley brothers. 1882.) 

My, oh my. The detailed description of the dancer’s costume is invaluable—but even more striking is the fact that the author explicitly notes she is Nubian. This is an important record that complicates the usual sweeping generalizations about the ghawazi background. The classic ‘They are a Roma tribe’ line really doesn’t hold up unchallenged anymore, does it?

5. “Cairo abounds in Egyptian cafes, where dances by the soidisant [supposed] members of the Ghawazee tribe are the sole attractions. They are, however, altogether lacking in local colour, and are, in fact, run by enterprising Greeks and Levantines for European visitors, and the performance is as banal and vulgar as at any cafe chantant in Antwerp or Amsterdam. The whole show consists of a few wailing musicians sitting on a raised platform at one end of the cafe, accompanying the endless gyrations of a stout young woman of unprepossessing features, who postures in particularly ungraceful and unedifying attitudes. Then her place is taken by another, equally ill-favoured and obese, who goes through the same interminable gyrations, to be relieved in her turn, and this goes on hour after hour. This strange “ unvariety show” is, nevertheless, one of the established sights of Cairo and is frequented in great numbers by tourists. Genuine performances of these dancing girls are seldom seen in Cairo except occasionally at weddings among the rich Cairenes and, in fact, the public dances of the Gawazee are forbidden by the authorities. They can, however, be seen at most of the towns of the Upper Nile Valley, especially at Keneh and Isneh.” (Eustace A. Reynolds Ball. The City of the Chaliphs. T Fisher Unwin. 1898.)

At first glance, this quote might sound worse than it actually is. It’s yet another reminder of how essential it is to understand context and nuance. I urge you to read a few more pages of the original text—it’s worth it! Think of it as your 19th-century equivalent of a Google review. The author discusses the entertainment scene in Cairo during both the high and low seasons. But what fascinates me most isn’t the overview—it’s the mention of 'genuine performances' at the weddings of well-to-do Cairenes. This suggests the author distinguishes between the lacklustre café shows aimed at European tourists and the more authentic experiences enjoyed by locals. If you weren’t already wary of taking Orientalist travel literature at face value when it comes to traditional Egyptian entertainment—here’s your sign.

6. “Many of the people of Cairo, affecting, or persuading themselves, to consider that there is nothing improper in the dancing of the Ghawazee but the fact of its being performed by females, who ought not thus to expose themselves, employ men to dance in the same manner ; but the number of these male performers, who are mostly young men, and who are called “ Khawals,” is very small. They are Muslims, and natives of Egypt. As they personate women, their dances are exactly of the same description as those of the Ghawazee, and are, in like manner, accompanied by the sounds of castanets ; but, as if to prevent their being thought to be really females, their dress is suited to their unnatural profession, being partly male and partly female. It chiefly consists of a tight vest, a girdle, and a kind of petticoat. Their general appearance, however, is more feminine than masculine. They suffer the hair of the head to grow long, and generally braid it, in the manner of the women. The hair on the face, when it begins to grow, they pluck out ; and they imitate the women also in applying kohl and henna to their eyes and hands. In the streets, when not engaged in dancing, they often even veil their faces ; not from shame, but merely to affect the manners of women. They are often employed, in preference to the Ghawazee, to dance before a house, or in its court, on the occasion of a marriage-fete, or the birth of a child, or a circumcision ; and frequently perform at public festivals.” (Edward William Lane. An Account of the Manner and Customs of the Modern Egyptians : Written in Egypt During the Years, 1833-1835. A. Gardner. 1895.)

It’s high time we put the tired old adage of 'this is a women-only dance' to rest. I’m positively delighted that the author goes out of his way to clarify that the khawals weren’t trying to pass as women—they were feminine, yes, but not fully impersonating females. Ah, nuance! My favourite endangered species.

If you follow the hyperlink to the original source, you’ll find that Edward Lane devotes an entire chapter to public dancers, along with other fascinating topics like baths, music, festivals, and female ornaments. It’s an entertaining read—just don’t mistake it for gospel truth. That said, many of Lane’s observations manage to deliver insights that remain surprisingly useful even today.

Given how much material Lane’s book offers, expecting me to stick to just one quote would be an act of self-restraint I am wholly unprepared for. And let’s be honest—would this post even be complete without stirring up a bit more controversy? Perish the thought!

7. “Egypt has long been celebrated for its public dancing-girls, the most famous of whom are of a distinct tribe called “ Ghawazee.” A female of this tribe is called “Ghazeeyeh,” and a man “Ghazee;” but the plural Ghawazee is generally understood as applying to the females. The error into which most travellers in Egypt have fallen, of confounding the common dancing-girls of this country with the A’l’mehs, who are female singers, has already been exposed. The Ghawazee perform unveiled in the public streets, even to amuse the rabble. Their dancing has little of elegance. They commence with a degree of decorum ; but soon, by more animated looks, by a more rapid collision of their castanets of brass, and by increased energy in every motion, they exhibit a spectacle exactly agreeing with the descriptions which Martial and Juvenal have given of the performances of the female dancers of Gades.” (See the source of the previous quote)

Lane is mistaken in his assertion that the 'almehs'—or, as we know them, the awalem—were exclusively singers. To understand his perspective, read the previous chapter of his book on Egyptian music. Then, compare his account with those of other contemporary Orientalists. The awalem were well-rounded entertainers, and reducing them to mere vocal performers does a disservice to a fascinating profession that seems to have disappeared by the late 20th century. 

8. “Singing and dancing women are engaged for the occasion [marrying off hareem slaves] , and several girls bearing censers, and others sprinkling perfumes, attend each bride. You have heard and read of the Arab dancing, which is far from delicate, but the dancing in the Turkish hareems is not in any respect objectionable. The girls throw themselves about extravagantly, but frequently gracefully ; and turn heels over head with amusing dexterity. It is not a pleasing exhibition, but not a disgusting one.” (Sophia Lane-Pool. The Englishwoman in Egypt. G. B. Zieber & co. 1845.)

Lane-Poole writes about her first-hand experience visiting the hareems of high-ranking Turkish officials in Egypt. (Remember, before the British colonialists arrived, Egypt was under Ottoman rule—with Napoleon also taking his turn at claiming the land, because apparently everyone wanted a piece.) The juxtaposition of Arab and Turkish dancers is striking. I suppose 'not disgusting' counts as a compliment? 

What puzzles me most is the phrase 'and turn heels over head with amusing dexterity.' While Turkish public performers—particularly men—were known for their acrobatic feats, this serves as direct evidence that female entertainers also included similar tricks in their repertoire, even in the privacy of the hareems.

9. “Notwithstanding the licentious life of these females, they are introduced into the harems to instruct the young persons of their sex in all that may render them agreeable to their future husbands. They give them lessons of dancing, singing, gracefulness, and, in general, of all voluptuous attainments. It is not surprising, that with manners which make the principal duty of women to consist in bestowing pleasure, those who follow the profession of gallantry should be the teachers of the fair sex. They are admitted to the festivals which the grandees give to those of their own rank; and when, from time to time, a husband wishes to entertain his harem in a particular manner, they are also sent for.” (Vivant Denon. Travels in Upper and Lower Egypt. Originally published in 1803. Translation published by Arno Press. 1973.) 

Reading the few pages preceding this quote makes it clear that the author is referring to a group of public performers—seven in total—and even names two of them: Josephina and Hanka. In this instance, it’s the sex-ed aspect that I find particularly enlightening. Baron Denon, a French savant credited with laying the groundwork for what would become Egyptology, manages to conflate an astonishing amount into one short paragraph—I genuinely can’t even. But you get the point: these entertainers had another important role to play—as instructors in all things carnal.

10. “Did I tell you that Esneh is the head-quarter to which the Ghawazee, or dancing women of Cairo, were banished by order of the Viceroy ? (. . .) Of the original Cairobred Ghawazee, only two now remain, and one of these, the celebrated Sofia, the favourite of Abbas Pasha (Mahommed Ali's grandson, and the governor of Cairo,) who kept a separate establishment for her, before the race became proscribed, now lives in Esneh. As this woman was considered one of the most accomplished Ghawazee in Egypt, I was very curious to see her, and we therefore desired Mohammed to arrange that she should exhibit herself, and some specimens of her talents, to us ; premising that English taste cannot tolerate those wanton displays in which the Eastern dancing-women sometimes indulge, and which form the most attractive part of their art in the opinion of their own countrypeople. (. . .) Sofia's dress was so handsome that it merits to be described; — besides, as the fashion of it is that of the great ladies of Cairo, I think it will interest you. (. . .) We computed that she carried about three hundred and fifty pounds on her person in coins alone, without including her other ornaments. (. . .) As to her dancing or rather pantomime, nothing can be less graceful or more monotonous ; striking her silver castanets, sometimes with her arms half raised, sometimes with her hands stretched out before her, she shuffled about upon a very small space of ground without executing anything like a step ; in short, she put every part of her body into movement except her feet. She had been warned to restrain herself, and she did, for there was no absolute violation of decorum in her performance ; but in the sample she gave us of her skill, there was neither poetry, nor imagination, nor ideality, — it was " of the earth, earthy," — the nymph was a clod of clay, and her inspirations were not warmed by one spark of the feu sacre [sacred fire], which sometimes for a moment converts clay into something little less than divine!” (Isabella Frances Romer. A Pilgrimage to the Temples and Tombs of Egypt, Nubia and Palestine in 1845-6. R. Bentley, 1846.)  

Wow. I rather desperately needed a moment to cool off before diving back into the commentary—my eye-rolls were approaching unsafe velocity. 

Those ellipses I inserted? They’re covering several pages of peak colonial smugness. Reading Romer’s book is its own form of intellectual masochism—her gold-standard imperial condescension is usually dialled up to eleven, and this passage is no exception. She painstakingly details Sofiya’s costume, even assigning it a monetary value (as one does when reducing humans to decorative objects), yet doesn’t so much as pretend to grasp the dance itself. Her description—'of the earth, earthy'—reads less like poetic observation and more like an unconcealed insult. And then, she has the audacity to complain that the performance lacks 'ideality'. It’s safe to assume that by 'ideality,' she means dance aesthetics sufficiently sanitized to please her refined Western sensibilities—and, of course, to meet the ever-so-exalted standards of European high art. 

Aside from its fixation on how stationary Sofiya’s dancing was—and an exhausting two-page ode to her costume—this account contributes next to nothing to the grand narrative of dance history. But Dorothy, darling, don’t take my word for it—read the original text, especially the parts I so mercifully spared you. What if I’ve misread, misquoted, or catastrophically misunderstood the author's intent? 

Yes, Auntie Helen may exude the full regalia of a self-declared High Priestess of Historical Accuracy—behold her sequinned sceptre of citations—but even the most divinely anointed beings must, from time to time, submit to the sacred rite of the fact-check!

And so concludes our unapologetic plunge into the wild, wondrous world of the nonsense Orientalists have spouted over the course of more than a century. 

As always, if you have thoughts, questions, or even outraged rebuttals, do get in touch. Your comments often prompt me to dig deeper into ideas long paraded as unshakeable truths—or deemed far too indecorous for the delicate ears of 'polite society' (ahem… the workshop and teaching circuit… ahem) desperately trying to image-control belly dance into either 'high art' or 'not art at all, because I said so'. 

Until next time—stay sceptical, bring snacks, and never trust a footnote without side-eye.

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