_Michelle and the Art of Joyous Laughter
Every year since I began dancing (and this is my lucky thirteenth year), I’ve discovered a new way to
shimmy. Thirteen years of new shimmies! In what other dance form can you be challenged on such a
continuous basis? Two years ago, I took the hardest shimmy class of my dancer’s life—it was Suhaila’s
advanced zil class at Tribal Fest. Advanced Zils! I thanked her afterwards for making me feel like a
beginner. Let me stress that there was no sarcasm in my voice. (There was no need to clarify my emotion
for Suhaila. She, seeing my exhausted yet happy face realized that I truly meant it!) I love attending a
fabulous workshop and realizing that there is so much yet to learn about belly dance. Its also a very yin
yang experience: just when you begin to feel a little cocky, a little bit like you know how to move, how to
shimmy, how to undulate, just then, you take a class from one of the many masters and you achieve
egotistical balance. Sure, you may know a great deal, but there is a great deal still to learn.
Several years ago, I had left the first studio I taught at. It was also where I had first learned to dance and
while I had learned so much, grown so much in its embrace, I reached a stage where I could no longer grow
there—I needed a transplant, a new plot. Fortunately for me, a fellow teacher had left a few months earlier
to open a small studio in her garage. Teri graciously allowed me to rent space and begin teaching my own
classes. At the time, it felt like a huge step. I was so nervous—not so much about attracting students, but
about making the break with the old studio.
Ironically, a year later, that very studio was facing the possibility of gaining new owners or shutting down
entirely. Teri and I met with the soon-to-be-retiring owner to discuss the possibility with her. If we took
over this decade-old established business, there would be a large monthly rent, the task of rejuvenating the
classes and the students, the overcoming of some negative stereotypes. I had subconsciously always
dreamed of having my own studio. Why, I’m not sure. It’s a heck of a lot of work, a miserly amount of
financial recompense, yet I had dreamed. Was this the opportunity I had been waiting for? After meeting
with the owner, I realized it was not. While the thought of having a ready-made studio was tempting, it
would not truly have been mine. I would have had to tailor my goals for a studio and teaching to fit what
already existed. The biggest reinforcement in making this decision came from attending a Carolena
Nerrichio workshop. I’m not sure how the topic even came up, but she made some mention of one day
owning her own space instead of renting (at the time, FatChanceBellyDance had been around for about ten
years). I realized that if this amazingly talented dancer, founder of a world-famous dance troupe, indeed,
creator of an entire style of dance—if she could wait to open her own studio, then surely so could I.
Within a year, the time was right. I opened Farfesha Studios and my vision for what a studio and what
classes could be began to take shape.
What is my vision for my studio? In short, my goal is to provide a place where women of all age, size,
shape, background, and talent can find supportive instruction. A place where they know they will be
challenged to dance better than they did the week before, yet a place where they will leave at the end of the
class feeling better about themselves than they did when they walked through the door. Farfesha, the name
of my troupe and studio, means “Joyous Laughter” in Arabic. This philosophy is the cornerstone of my
performance and instruction. If I can give someone a taste of that joy, I have performed my good deed for
the day.
Who has not suffered self-confidence issues? I, for one, am not exempt from this affliction. However, no
matter how I feel when I tie a scarf around my hips at six o’clock, by nine o’clock, I am convinced that I
am beautiful or graceful, or clever—in other words, the opposite of whatever negative emotion I was
feeling earlier. One of my troupe members loves to have business meetings on the morning following
practice because she feels so empowered, her co-workers actually comment on it! I think we’re starting to
realize our goal in our student’s lives as well. On our website’s forum, one of my students posted: “I have
always wanted to belly dance but never had the courage to try until last year. Luckily Michelle's studio was
on the internet and I happened to find it on a search engine. I can't even begin to tell you how very happy I
am to be dancing!!! It is the little thing in life that mine was missing. I can't believe how lucky I was to
have found Farfesha. I just wanted to let everyone know how terrific I think all of you are, don't you ever
forget it!” Another student wrote, “I become more confidant in my everyday life. Dancing has improved
my life all around.”
Forgive me if I seem to be patting myself on my back, but this is the greatest compliment we could ever
receive. I love dancing and I love performing and I feel I am pretty good at both. But to think I have
touched someone in such a way that their life is a little better is an accomplishment with far more longevity
than any performance.
Other than the dancing and the costumes, one of my absolute favorite things about belly dance are my
girlfriends. Be they troupe members or students or just women I chat with via the internet, belly dance is
such a unique sisterhood. There is nothing I enjoy more than working late at night in the studio with my
fellow Feshies, hammering out choreography. The creative juices get flowing, the laughter is non-stop and
we work up an amazing sweat. If we could bottle that essence, it would have to be regulated by the FDA!
I remember once an older woman I was talking to made some disparaging remark about female friends and
how she never had any because they were always back-biting. I cannot imagine such a life! I have gained
so much from my girlfriends—I know I would be a lesser person had I not had them in my life. Now,
before you accuse me of being a Pollyanna, let me assure you that I have had my share of betrayals,
letdowns and disappointments from fellow dancers, many of whom I’d counted as close girlfriends. I
usually experience a brief period of thinking “I’m going to quit belly dance and take up knitting (or
running, or—heaven forbid—housecleaning).” Fortunately this emotion dissipates quickly. I recently spoke
with a fellow studio owner from the Midwest who was having no end of fits because the small dance
community in which she lived and taught was plagued by a few women of ill intent. She was at her wits
end and I offered what meager advice I could. It boiled down to this: you must stay true to yourself first
and foremost. If someone maligns you, it is best to address the issue, but otherwise, make like a duck and
let it roll off your back. In this area, my husband has been invaluable in helping me keep things in
perspective. One of our strong points as women is our ability to care and nuture—we take things
personally. However, one of men’s strong points is there ability not to take things personally and
sometimes this is the correct road to take. Otherwise you end up giving too much energy to someone who is
not worth your time. On the rare occasions where I do encounter such a person, I do a quick inventory and
redirect that energy to my fellow troupe members and students—the people who truly matter to me in
dance.
Recently in my classes, we’ve been working on emoting while dancing. In other words, conveying your
dance not just through your moves but through your facial expressions. My husband calls me a drama
queen but I come from a few generations of actors, so I’ve always been able to smile, laugh and flirt while I
perform. But what took me years to gain ownership of was the powerful, sensual side of my emotions
which can be rather intimidating to share with an audience! What I finally realized can best be illustrated in
this story: My husband and I visited Disneyland once. At Disneyland, they have performers drag audience
members into their skits. Sometimes the audience member just has to stand there, but usually, they have to
play some role. There’s always someone pulled up who is just to cool/sexy/macho/”mature” to get into
their part. They stand there looking bored or embarrassed throughout the skit. Then you have those people
who get into it. They gamely make fools of themselves, act crazy, cluck like chickens, whatever is required
of them. Have you ever noticed that they are the people who get the cheers from the audience? They are the
ones that people smile at, pat on the back when the skit is over, remember fondly when they look at their
vacation photos. The too cool or too embarrassed actors simply look silly and a bit stodgy.
Well the same is true when you’re dancing and trying to convey an emotion. If you want to be the lioness
goddess on the hunt, you must not look embarrassed or self-conscious of your cleavage or thigh-high slit in
your skirt. You must OWN the emotion. If you are trying to be cute and fun, you can’t frown or shake your
head if you flub your choreography. In the movies, if you build it, they will come. In dance, if you feel it,
they will believe it.
May your life be filled with Joyous Laughter!
Every year since I began dancing (and this is my lucky thirteenth year), I’ve discovered a new way to
shimmy. Thirteen years of new shimmies! In what other dance form can you be challenged on such a
continuous basis? Two years ago, I took the hardest shimmy class of my dancer’s life—it was Suhaila’s
advanced zil class at Tribal Fest. Advanced Zils! I thanked her afterwards for making me feel like a
beginner. Let me stress that there was no sarcasm in my voice. (There was no need to clarify my emotion
for Suhaila. She, seeing my exhausted yet happy face realized that I truly meant it!) I love attending a
fabulous workshop and realizing that there is so much yet to learn about belly dance. Its also a very yin
yang experience: just when you begin to feel a little cocky, a little bit like you know how to move, how to
shimmy, how to undulate, just then, you take a class from one of the many masters and you achieve
egotistical balance. Sure, you may know a great deal, but there is a great deal still to learn.
Several years ago, I had left the first studio I taught at. It was also where I had first learned to dance and
while I had learned so much, grown so much in its embrace, I reached a stage where I could no longer grow
there—I needed a transplant, a new plot. Fortunately for me, a fellow teacher had left a few months earlier
to open a small studio in her garage. Teri graciously allowed me to rent space and begin teaching my own
classes. At the time, it felt like a huge step. I was so nervous—not so much about attracting students, but
about making the break with the old studio.
Ironically, a year later, that very studio was facing the possibility of gaining new owners or shutting down
entirely. Teri and I met with the soon-to-be-retiring owner to discuss the possibility with her. If we took
over this decade-old established business, there would be a large monthly rent, the task of rejuvenating the
classes and the students, the overcoming of some negative stereotypes. I had subconsciously always
dreamed of having my own studio. Why, I’m not sure. It’s a heck of a lot of work, a miserly amount of
financial recompense, yet I had dreamed. Was this the opportunity I had been waiting for? After meeting
with the owner, I realized it was not. While the thought of having a ready-made studio was tempting, it
would not truly have been mine. I would have had to tailor my goals for a studio and teaching to fit what
already existed. The biggest reinforcement in making this decision came from attending a Carolena
Nerrichio workshop. I’m not sure how the topic even came up, but she made some mention of one day
owning her own space instead of renting (at the time, FatChanceBellyDance had been around for about ten
years). I realized that if this amazingly talented dancer, founder of a world-famous dance troupe, indeed,
creator of an entire style of dance—if she could wait to open her own studio, then surely so could I.
Within a year, the time was right. I opened Farfesha Studios and my vision for what a studio and what
classes could be began to take shape.
What is my vision for my studio? In short, my goal is to provide a place where women of all age, size,
shape, background, and talent can find supportive instruction. A place where they know they will be
challenged to dance better than they did the week before, yet a place where they will leave at the end of the
class feeling better about themselves than they did when they walked through the door. Farfesha, the name
of my troupe and studio, means “Joyous Laughter” in Arabic. This philosophy is the cornerstone of my
performance and instruction. If I can give someone a taste of that joy, I have performed my good deed for
the day.
Who has not suffered self-confidence issues? I, for one, am not exempt from this affliction. However, no
matter how I feel when I tie a scarf around my hips at six o’clock, by nine o’clock, I am convinced that I
am beautiful or graceful, or clever—in other words, the opposite of whatever negative emotion I was
feeling earlier. One of my troupe members loves to have business meetings on the morning following
practice because she feels so empowered, her co-workers actually comment on it! I think we’re starting to
realize our goal in our student’s lives as well. On our website’s forum, one of my students posted: “I have
always wanted to belly dance but never had the courage to try until last year. Luckily Michelle's studio was
on the internet and I happened to find it on a search engine. I can't even begin to tell you how very happy I
am to be dancing!!! It is the little thing in life that mine was missing. I can't believe how lucky I was to
have found Farfesha. I just wanted to let everyone know how terrific I think all of you are, don't you ever
forget it!” Another student wrote, “I become more confidant in my everyday life. Dancing has improved
my life all around.”
Forgive me if I seem to be patting myself on my back, but this is the greatest compliment we could ever
receive. I love dancing and I love performing and I feel I am pretty good at both. But to think I have
touched someone in such a way that their life is a little better is an accomplishment with far more longevity
than any performance.
Other than the dancing and the costumes, one of my absolute favorite things about belly dance are my
girlfriends. Be they troupe members or students or just women I chat with via the internet, belly dance is
such a unique sisterhood. There is nothing I enjoy more than working late at night in the studio with my
fellow Feshies, hammering out choreography. The creative juices get flowing, the laughter is non-stop and
we work up an amazing sweat. If we could bottle that essence, it would have to be regulated by the FDA!
I remember once an older woman I was talking to made some disparaging remark about female friends and
how she never had any because they were always back-biting. I cannot imagine such a life! I have gained
so much from my girlfriends—I know I would be a lesser person had I not had them in my life. Now,
before you accuse me of being a Pollyanna, let me assure you that I have had my share of betrayals,
letdowns and disappointments from fellow dancers, many of whom I’d counted as close girlfriends. I
usually experience a brief period of thinking “I’m going to quit belly dance and take up knitting (or
running, or—heaven forbid—housecleaning).” Fortunately this emotion dissipates quickly. I recently spoke
with a fellow studio owner from the Midwest who was having no end of fits because the small dance
community in which she lived and taught was plagued by a few women of ill intent. She was at her wits
end and I offered what meager advice I could. It boiled down to this: you must stay true to yourself first
and foremost. If someone maligns you, it is best to address the issue, but otherwise, make like a duck and
let it roll off your back. In this area, my husband has been invaluable in helping me keep things in
perspective. One of our strong points as women is our ability to care and nuture—we take things
personally. However, one of men’s strong points is there ability not to take things personally and
sometimes this is the correct road to take. Otherwise you end up giving too much energy to someone who is
not worth your time. On the rare occasions where I do encounter such a person, I do a quick inventory and
redirect that energy to my fellow troupe members and students—the people who truly matter to me in
dance.
Recently in my classes, we’ve been working on emoting while dancing. In other words, conveying your
dance not just through your moves but through your facial expressions. My husband calls me a drama
queen but I come from a few generations of actors, so I’ve always been able to smile, laugh and flirt while I
perform. But what took me years to gain ownership of was the powerful, sensual side of my emotions
which can be rather intimidating to share with an audience! What I finally realized can best be illustrated in
this story: My husband and I visited Disneyland once. At Disneyland, they have performers drag audience
members into their skits. Sometimes the audience member just has to stand there, but usually, they have to
play some role. There’s always someone pulled up who is just to cool/sexy/macho/”mature” to get into
their part. They stand there looking bored or embarrassed throughout the skit. Then you have those people
who get into it. They gamely make fools of themselves, act crazy, cluck like chickens, whatever is required
of them. Have you ever noticed that they are the people who get the cheers from the audience? They are the
ones that people smile at, pat on the back when the skit is over, remember fondly when they look at their
vacation photos. The too cool or too embarrassed actors simply look silly and a bit stodgy.
Well the same is true when you’re dancing and trying to convey an emotion. If you want to be the lioness
goddess on the hunt, you must not look embarrassed or self-conscious of your cleavage or thigh-high slit in
your skirt. You must OWN the emotion. If you are trying to be cute and fun, you can’t frown or shake your
head if you flub your choreography. In the movies, if you build it, they will come. In dance, if you feel it,
they will believe it.
May your life be filled with Joyous Laughter!
