Men have been mischaracterized in the historical narrative of belly dance since the 1800s, described in European travelogs as “beastly transvestites,” “unnatural…being partly male, and partly female,” and their movements as “like a woman ready to be fucked” or “a confounded wanton posture.”

As a neurodivergent person with social anxiety, traveling is absolutely harrowing. I am not what you’d call a “go with the flow” kind of person. I do not do well sitting in the unknown and uncomfortable, and I do everything in my power to avoid being in such a situation. Here’s what I do that keeps me (mostly) sane.

I’ve always aspired to have a PhD, even before I knew what I wanted to study. I was 16 when I found belly dance, and that’s when everything changed for me. That was the moment that I flew out of monochromatic Kansas and into technicolor Oz—it elucidated my calling in life, and I knew I needed to go to school for dance so that I could stay ensconced in that community physically, spiritually, and professionally. The formula was simple—bachelor’s, master’s, PhD—but the journey was fraught.

Dance festivals are sacred places. They bring dancers together from all over, they reconnect local dance communities, and they bring in instructors that would otherwise be challenging to study with. As a professional opportunity, they are invaluable sources of networking and professional development—photo shoots, performance recordings, costume shopping. They’re important to all levels of dancers, both emerging and established. All that to say, we all need and deserve to enjoy belly dance festivals.

Before accepting that I was disabled, I didn’t pay attention to a lot of the toxic ableist nonsense that permeates the belly dance community. And to be fair, this isn’t unique to us—I spent several years living in gym culture as a personal trainer and lifting weights, and much of this rhetoric exists there as well. And if you have any significant experience with belly dance communities, you know it shares a lot of connective tissue with other various alternative/holistic/etc “wellness” communities where this ableist rhetoric is embraced.

In my last blog about my back pain, I gave the full run-down on what I went through to get diagnosed and treated. You can refresh on that here. I had just had my first rhizotomy and was enjoying the freedom of movement I gained from it, thinking my problems were solved for the foreseeable future.

Well, a few months ago when I had my first medial branch block in my lumbar spine to treat my facet joint arthritis, I promised a longer, more thoughtful post about it at a later date.

I’ve just had my second rhizotomy. So, here’s that update I promised.

You might be wondering, what happened? Why do I, a twenty-something, have lumbar arthritis?

“The desire to teach without the burden to study is a desire to perform.”