When Esraa Warda participated in a residency in Algeria earlier this year, she was told she should not perform in the final show in the town of Taghit. Others told her she would not be safe under the spotlights — that the crowd might throw things. Movement is initiated by the feet, hips swaying in quick, precise arcs from side to side with each step; the upper body twists slightly, the arms light in the air.
The same applies to the accompanying dances, which are usually performed at private gatherings. Warda went ahead and performed that night in Taghit, proving the Ministry of Culture wrong: Many in the audience cheered her on, she said, dancing along with her. It was profound that something as simple as dancing could be such a political statement. Highlighting the musicality and endurance that are required for these styles, Warda shows they are legitimate art forms, with specific techniques that change from one region and musical genre to the next.
Many of the dances Warda performs involve movement of the hips. She is adamant, though, that they are not to be confused with belly dancing — a technique with Egyptian roots that is more lifted and with broader movements of the upper body and arms. After the French invasion of Algeria in Tunisia followed in , Morocco in , an industry developed around female dancers, with European photographers paying them to strike suggestive poses that had nothing to do with their art.
This legacy of exploitation surrounding dance remained even after Algeria won independence, in , making it stigmatized in many circles. Her father, who immigrated in the s, worked as a food vendor on 53rd Street and Lexington, and her mother was a caretaker; both encouraged her to pursue traditional career paths.
In her early 20s, Warda managed a traditional arts program for students at Arab-American cultural centers. Hiring other artists got her thinking about the dances she loved — and why they were not valued as an art form.
