Angela Merlano is a 19-year-old dancer from Colorado. She dances at Basma Dance and Fitness.
“People watch me with wonder, and it fills me with pride. I love that as a belly dancer, I get to pull people up with me and make them dance with me. They laugh so genuinely and have honest fun.”
Tell us about your dance experience!
Growing up, I was trained classically in ballet. I didn’t look like the other girls in my class so I would get a lot of judgmental looks, stares, and whispers. After the discrimination came to the point of me crying after every class, I had to quit, and vowed to never dance again—that was until I found belly dance. I started training online as a means of fitness and health as the pandemic just hit. However, after a couple of years, I warmed up to performance. I started with talent shows but soon craved more. I met amazing musicians, dancers, and teachers as I started growing in experience. I worked with live musicians in performances, which was a huge goal of mine from when I just started. I went through a lot of objectification, discrimination, and ignorance as I moved through performances. Many people I met were unaccustomed to belly dance and saw it as promiscuous or unfamiliar. It got better once I joined my performance team at Basma Dance in Aurora, mainly because people saw us as a unit of artists rather than objects. It has been a positive experience nevertheless, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I train vigorously at my studio and outside of it, just because dance is such a relieving prospect of my life. It’s a venue for health, expression, and femininity—I wouldn’t give it up for anything.
How does dance have a positive impact on your life?
I don’t meet a bunch of young belly dancers like me. I started when I was 14, and I’m 18 now. Sometimes it’s easy to invalidate myself because of my age, whether if it’s because I’m too old to dance or too young to dance. However, dance offers more peace in my life. My age and who I am stops mattering so much. At the height of my eating disorder, it offered me a break from thinking about how I looked. I meet so many new faces and communities because of dance and I genuinely leave an impact on people as a dancer. I never forget the look on people’s faces when they watch me. I always expect the negative—for mothers to pull away their children or for men to look at me with disgust. Yet it’s always the opposite. People watch me with wonder, and it fills me with pride. I love that as a belly dancer, I get to pull people up with me and make them dance with me. They laugh so genuinely and have honest fun. Having my dance community is something I value so much, especially post-COVID. I get to hug and love people in a safe space where expression is valued and promoted.
How do you want to use dance to have a positive impact on your community?
I’ve been using dance as positively as I can by getting gigs that are meaningful culturally and respectfully. I don’t dance as a means to seduce or incite desire as some may see oriental dancing as. I respect the art form that has been passed down generationally for millennia by my ancestors in the Middle East. Another part of it is my identity as a brown girl. Growing up half-Colombian and half-Palestinian left lasting impacts on my self worth as I was surrounded by girls who fit the beauty standard. I was chubby and brown, with frizzy hair and bushy brows, all while always being a tad overweight. I want other little girls to look at me and believe that they are beautiful just as they are. That, honestly, has been one of the best parts—to inspire others and introduce them to an art form that they’ve never seen before or that they’ve only seen being sensationalized by media, to spread growth culturally and help people recognize world dance as an art form continues to be the goal.
