Natural Beauty Belly Dance, a center for artistic belly dance in both traditional and innovative spheres, empowers and inspires dancers to train precisely, avoid injury, work creatively, and take ownership of their craft.Fostering “natural beauty,” the attractive and charismatic quality of confident authentic self-expression, classes equally promote creative vision, technical excellence, and personal style.
This page, blog, and site are officially retired. At this time, I am not teaching group classes.
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“my primary problem with this Dove ad is
that it’s not really challenging the message like it makes us feel
like it is. It doesn’t really tell us that the definition of beauty
is broader than we have been trained to think it is, and it doesn’t
really tell us that fitting inside that definition isn’t the most
important thing. It doesn’t really push back against the constant
objectification of women. All it’s really saying is that you’re
actually not quite as far off from the narrow definition as you might
think that you are (if you look like the featured women, I guess).”
Maybe you are closer to standards of
having a conventionally attractive appearance than you realize. Or
maybe you are exactly as homely as you think are. Maybe your crows'
feet really are that noticeable. Maybe you're not young, not
healthy, and don't have high-status features relative to the
standards of the person looking at you. The only reason those things
should affect the love your friends and family have for you is if
your friends and family are jerks. I know that being pretty really
DOES matter – it's a huge social asset. But the problem with being
not pretty isn't a lack of prettiness, it's that we live in a society
with seriously confused priorities, thanks in part to corporate
interests that survive by exploiting our insecurities.
I have a few more additions, though.
Aside from this campaign, I'm not a fan of Dove's parent company,
Unilever. If there is a social or political issue you care about,
google “boycott Unilever” and you too will probably find
something not to like: exploitative labor practices, support of
oppressive political regimes, complicity in the plight of Pygmies, an
uneven environmental track record, animal testing, products of
dubious safety, ties to Monsanto, etc.
You'll also find allegations of racism.
This is old news, but if you have forgotten or missed it the first
time, Unilever also owns Ponds and another brand called “Fair and
Lovely,” both of which market skin-lightening creams in Asia. The
politics of these products are well beyond the sphere of what I can
intelligently discuss, and Unilever is far from the only manufacturer
of bleaching creams. But they don't exactly encourage the diversity
that Dove ostensibly promotes. I realize, as someone who is about as
white as a person can be, that I am not exactly the target audience,
and it's not my business to tell anyone (especially someone of a
culture and coloration different from my own) what tone they should
want their skin to be, but to paraphrase Charlton Heston: Unilever,
you can bleach my freckles off my cold, dead face.
Other conflicting messages come from
the advertising for another Unilever brand, Axe (in other countries,
“Lynx”) body spray. The “real” beauties Dove lauds are most
definitely not the admirers one is promised to attract by dousing
one's self in this swill. Somebody recently made a mashup of Dove
and Axe ads, but it's blocked in the US. This clip sort of shows it
though:
So, Dove, asks, “If you could talk to
a girl in your life about beauty, confidence, and self-esteem, what
would you say?” I'd say wash up with something inexpensive that makes
your skin feel nice to you and that doesn't trouble your conscience,
and don't let advertising from the world's third largest consumer
goods company cleverly exploit your insecurity about having your
insecurities exploited. Literally and figuratively, people will say
anything to sell you soap.
For those interested in Unilever
brands: there are a lot of them, and it's hard to wade through the
Wikipedia page or Unilever's “Brands in Action” on their site.
The simplest list I found for US brands is here:
http://www.unileverusa.com/resource/brandproductlocator.aspx
Drop down the “choose brand” menu.
UPDATE: There's more good commentary at http://theillusionists.org/2013/04/the-problem-with-dove/
, which also points out that 1) Unilever not only owns both Slimfast
and Ben and Jerry's ice cream, but that it acquired them ON THE SAME
DAY; and 2) even the "real beauty" ads are photoshopped. Quote from the
retoucher: "it was great to do, a challenge, to keep everyone’s skin
and faces showing the mileage but not looking unattractive."
A piece of advice to younger/newer
dancers who might tend to view the less-technical style of previous
generations with a bit of snark, disdain, or condescension: consider
reevaluating your judgment. This isn't an admonishment, just a note
to let you know what you are missing and how you may appear to
others. It's okay to like whatever you like and to be proud of what
you do, but I would encourage you to consider what your own dancing
would look like had you begun your education in a different era, and
what the top stars will be doing in 15 years. Yesterday's visionaries
weren't any less gifted and industrious than today's trailblazers.
The bar didn't raise itself. Don't be an airhead, and don't embarrass
yourself. Appreciate what has come before you as the gift that it
is.
I became a good dancer very quickly in part because of
focus, discipline, and affinity, but I was also in a good place at a
good time. But if I were 25 years old today and taking my first belly
dance class, I could probably get done in 2 or 3 years what, 15 years
ago, it took me 10 years to figure out. (This would be especially
true in some sort of confusing time warp where I got to study from my
own DVDs and YouTube videos and start learning now from the
foundation of what my own students and students' students have done
in their careers.)
This isn't just belly dance, by the way.
Compare any Olympic time/score/routine from the 50s to the
expectations for today's athletes. Or just compare your cell phone to
the one you had 5 years ago. Our dance builds on the achievements of
those who came before us, and continues to evolve thanks to the
examples and challenges we set for one another. The resources that
are now available not only make it possible for gifted dancers to get
very good very fast, they continually push the standard higher,
constantly shifting our perception of what is possible.
I'm
not telling you to be deferential and respectful to your teachers and
to dancers of previous generations. Do as you see fit—a gracious
outlook is good for your mental health and good manners are a good
policy, but teachers don't deserve all the credit for their students'
work and respect should be saved for those that deserve it. But don't
kid yourself about the foundations your work has built on. To think
that your dancing (or mine, or that of fill-in-the-blank OMG Big
Name) sprang like Athena fully-formed from the head of Zeus is
pathetic ignorance and foolish self-importance. Stop advertising that
ignorance, or, better yet, divest yourself of it entirely. You, lucky
you, are the beneficiary of an amazing legacy. If you'd like to be a
better dancer or just a more sensible grown-up, wrap your head around
the idea that whether or not you like the legacy that's been handed
to you is different from having the wisdom to appreciate it. Why
appreciate it? The more you do, the more you'll be able to do
something amazing with it. (And the dignity you gain won't hurt
either.)
As we count down the final days of 2012, we also draw everyday nearer to an annual tradition: New Years' Resolution time. If it's always on your list, why not make this the new year you take the plunge and give belly dance a try?
Through February 13, I'm teaching Wednesday nights at 8:30 at Ral'eau Salsa, 300 W, 43rd St. (corner of 8th Ave.), 6th floor. This is a session-format course where each lesson builds on previously-taught material, and although drop-ins are permitted at any time during the session, the course is designed for students who start together and continue together every week. I recommend that new beginners start this week, January 2, or if you are not able to make this date, start no later than January 9.
"According to St.Ives, the average UK woman will spend 91 hours every
year applying make-up, the equivalent of three and half days a year –
enough time to enjoy over 60 films, back to back."
This is not a makeup bashing post. I love makeup! Primarily I think it's fun and artistic, but I'm also grateful to have the option to create a dewy, blushing, pimple-free face, and, in some situations, have more control over the way I'll be perceived. Nor is this a "natural beauty" bashing post. I also love not wearing makeup (and hearing media messages about not wearing makeup) because sometimes there are other things I want to spend my time and money on, and also because no one should have to feel compelled to alter their appearance for someone else's benefit. What I do NOT love is foolish misrepresentations of "natural beauty" as a new unattainable beauty standard. This is also not meant as a post bashing Lydia Bright (the TV personality pictured below, whom I know essentially nothing about but whom I am sure is under great pressure related to her appearance and how she expresses herself), but the premise of these photos is preposterous. Supposedly we are seeing the results of Lydia's having undertaken the "St. Ives 7-day challenge," whereby seven days of using facial scrub allowed her "to achieve fresher, more radiant looking skin, giving her the confidence to go without makeup at a makeup free shoot."
Who knew seven days of scrubbing was all it takes? I have a suggestion, though, about the true secret to natural beauty. No, no, it's not those aphorisms wrongly attributed to Audrey Hepburn about being a kind person... In addition to St. Ives facial scrub for seven days, I'd suggest following this authentic ancient ritual for petitioning St. Ives, patron of "natural" beauty.
Prayer to St. Ives
O St. Ives, obtain for me these beauty favors I implore. Grant me perfect symmetry. Save me from the tweezer and eyebrow pencil, and let my eyebrows grow in tidy orderly arcs. Normalize my pigmentation: let my coloration be free of any variation. Plump my lips; lift my cheekbones; whittle my jaw; shape my eyes, nose, and lips into idealized typical Caucasian shapes. Intercede on my behalf against dark circles under my eyes, against hair on my upper lip, and against wrinkles and sags. Imbue me with a youthful rosy glow, make me fashionably slim but not too slim, and make me impossibly blonde (except in the hair of my eyebrows and eyelashes which should still be dark enough to accentuate the shape of my uncommonly light blue eyes.) Above all, St. Ives, take away my pores. Though I am an adult, make my pores like unto those of a newborn babe. Make the texture of my skin like unto that of a billiard ball.
Well, maybe it won't totally work... According to a tweet from Lydia Bright:
JPEG of tweet taken from the Daily Mail, who captioned it "Honest: Lydia opened up about her insecurities to her Twitter followers"
Also, below her chin and a little off to the side I think there's a little freckle or mole or something. Tsk, tsk! But I guess it's okay if St. Ives can't truly make us "perfect," since revealing our flaws will help us, like Lydia, grow the maturity and wisdom of self-acceptance.
