These Two Male Belly Dancers are Challenging Stigma

Male belly dancers Rochdi Belgasmi and Moe Khansa on transforming gender-based stigmas and stereotypes in the region

For Rochdi Belgasmi and Moe Khansa, belly dancing is not just a passion. It is a profession. It is the way in which both male belly dancers and artists have chosen to make a living, and it has consumed them intellectually, transforming a practice that many associate with frivolity or misinformed social stigmas into one that deeply fulfils their very purpose as human beings.
“I wake up in the morning and go to the studio,” says Belgasmi. “I am working no other jobs on the side. Dancing is my life. When I am not in the studio practising or choreographing new projects, then I am studying dance. I am reading and learning more about its connection to social issues, gender, identity, and my own personal narrative.” Born and raised in Tunisia, he began dancing when he was only 10 years old.
“It was very accepted in my family,” recalls Belgasmi. “No one ever had a problem with my interest in dance. In fact, I would often wear my grandmother’s traditional clothing and put on performances for the family.” Sheltered from the harsh stereotypes held by the outside world, he was never conditioned to believe that his identity as a male had any effect on his love for dancing. “It really wasn’t until I began to perform and showcase my work publicly that I realised my gender had such a strong effect on the way my passion and skills for dancing were perceived.”
Just across the Mediterranean, in the Lebanese capital of Beirut, Khansa had a similar experience. “Dance was never really seen as a problem in my household. It all began as something very playful — I loved to watch films and music videos that incorporated dancing. Then, as I grew older, I decided that I wanted to train more professionally. It was actually a choir teacher of mine who encouraged me to seek more technical training. He really inspired me to develop my stage presence and showcase my work publicly as opposed to merely behind closed doors.”
Looking back, Khansa and Belgasmi agree that their careers in dance were somewhat instinctive. “It was never really a choice,” explains Khansa. “I just felt comfortable doing it. I tried a lot of other activities growing up and, although I was good at them, something kept drawing me back to dance. There was a unique sense of joy that I felt while dancing that would enable me to sustain nearly six or seven hours of constant movement. So, when discussing the origins of my profession as a dancer, we are really just talking about childhood feelings and decisions that naturally transformed into a career.”
This is especially true with regards to the style of dance that both artists have become known for, which is belly dancing. In most North African and Middle Eastern countries, this form of dance is commonly referred to as raqs sharqi, which directly translates to ‘oriental dance’. Although celebrated in the region for its strong cultural history and influence, a number of stigmas continue to exist around the practice due to stereotypes that often associate it with female sexuality and seduction.
“Despite my passion for the dance, it can be very hard sometimes,” says Khansa. “We already know how women are perceived when they pursue belly dancing, so you can only imagine what it’s like for men. Many people just can’t seem to comprehend how serious a profession belly dancing truly is. They are trapped by classist and sexist stereotypes that render our work frivolous or shameful… little do they know how deeply rooted it is in culture and history, requiring a highly skilled form of physical movement as well as passion, emotion, and intellect.”
This is something that both dancers strongly agree on. As part of his doctoral degree, Belgasmi is currently writing a thesis on his personal mythology in the hopes of gaining a better understanding of the relationship between gender and the natural inclinations that have led him toward dancing. “There were no universities in Tunisia that offered a professional degree in dancing, so the closest thing that I could study was theatre,” he muses.
It’s interesting because society encourages you to pursue dancing and preserve the traditional culture, yet there are barely any routes available for one to pursue it professionally, especially as a man. The choice to become a professional dancer, therefore, systematically has some form of resistance associated with it — regardless of how open-minded or progressive the society might seem.
As a result, the act of belly dancing has always been extremely political for Khansa and Belgasmi. “People are trapped by social norms that dictate what it means for a woman to be a belly dancer and for a man to behave in more ‘feminine’ ways. It is difficult to unlearn these biases because they have become a part of society’s subconscious. However, our very existence as belly dancers proves them wrong,” explains Khansa. “Even amid so much stigma and backlash, our passion and commitment to the practice of belly dancing remains unwavering, proving our genuine affinity for it. This commitment is in itself deeply political.”
Although Belgasmi had always been drawn to belly dancing, his specialty in the practice truly began following Tunisia’s democratic revolution in 2011. “Something had just hit me,” he says. “All my life, I had focused primarily on contemporary styles of dance. However, following the revolution, I felt this urge to disconnect from Western culture and reconnect more closely with my Tunisian heritage. I began to really study belly dancing and use Jacques Derrida’s philosophy of deconstruction to destabilise objective binaries and bridge the gap between more contemporary and traditional forms of movement.”
It is this innovation that has led Belgasmi to become one of the most renowned male belly dancers, performing his own choreographic works at festivals, museums, and stages worldwide.
History, however, reveals that the practice of belly dancing has not always been out of the ordinary for men from the region. Throughout Turkish and Egyptian history, it was common for men to perform folk or traditional style dances similar to that of the modern style of belly dancing. This is much like how men would often play women’s roles in Elizabethan Shakespeare, with sexualised terminology and ideas absent from the discourse. It was primarily a consequence of Western colonialism that belly dancing became more associated with taboos related to gender, sexuality, and seduction.
“People often disrespect our practice because it is perceived as shameful despite our goal to create and share beauty,” says Khansa. “Yet, as a consequence of their own discomfort, people often refuse to see that. They keep us out of the conversation and make negative assumptions about our essence and behaviour without ever seeking to understand us first.”
During the early stages of his career, Khansa truly became drawn to belly dancing due to the beauty and empowerment that it inspired within him. “I really fell in love with it as a university student,” he says. “I took a survey course on music from the MENA region, and it truly made me feel more connected to who I was. Our music is so rhythmic, and I found both my body and soul to be extremely drawn to it.”
Soon, he began to constantly study and attend workshops related to belly dancing. “Through a combination of research, passion, and training, I realised that this style of dance came very naturally to me. It became an innate language, serving as my own personal means of expression. There weren’t many opportunities available for me to continue pursuing belly dancing academically. So, I essentially decided to build my own curriculum, and everything slowly began to fall into place over time.”
With the knowledge and skills that he gained, Khansa has managed to become a young sensation in the world of belly dancing, frequently hosting live performances in Beirut and across the world. Beyond this, he has also become a popular singer-songwriter and, in 2022, won numerous awards for his performance in the Sundance award-winning short film, Warsha. As Belgasmi and Khansa continue to make waves in the world of belly dancing, their goal remains the same. Through their choreography and performances, they hope to inspire feeling and emotion in viewers, to remind them of the beauty that continues to exist despite so much social and political turmoil.
“Art alone is not enough,” asserts Belgasmi. “It must also be accompanied by thought and discourse. When I choreograph a dance, there are so many layers involved. I am speaking with my body, thinking critically, and unlearning what I have been taught by society. In doing so, my work is fighting against a whole set of political beliefs, traditions, and norms that have constrained men and women alike for decades.” In its simplest form, belly dancing is a highly political act rooted in inclusivity, with Khansa and Belgasmi paving the way.

SELMA NOURI –  GQ Middle East