Suhaila Salimpour Fan Page

Suhaila, an icon in American Belly dance, truly is a sought after performer and instructor. Daughter of legendary Jamila Salimpour, Suhaila's talent, vision and creativity have built an empire. In addition to touring the Middle East, Europe and the U.S. her Belly dance instructional, fitness fusion, and performance videos abound. She has produced CD's, written belly dance manuals and even has her own logo wear on the market! Suhaila also offers "the first certification program ever available in Middle Eastern Dance" which includes 5 levels of books and a soon to be released video and DVD series.

She maintains The Suhaila Salimpour School of Dance, directs the Suhaila Dance Company and recently revived her mother's famous tribal dance company Bal Anat. Suhaila was a natural choice for producer Miles Copeland to work with in a series of performances, videos, and films for the Belly Dance Superstars. She is progressive, controversial, celebrated and here to share herself with us.

Salome: People are aware of Jamila's presence in your life but perhaps not so of your father. Can you share your experience growing up in a Persian household, how that affected you and your relationship with dance?

Suhaila: It was very difficult being raised with my Persian family. They had a totally different set of values and rules that were so confusing as a child. I remember my grandmother cursing at the television when she would see a girl in shorts or a swimsuit. She would spit and call her a "whore" and it was really an overall feeling of what she felt about the freedom women have in this country. I thought the girl on the television was pretty and someday I wanted to have a pair of shorts like that, but I knew that would mean my grandmother would think of me that way too. I was only allowed to wear cloths that were below my knees and long sleeves. My Persian family prayed 5 times a day and was teaching all of us kids to do the same. When I was sick my grandmother and aunts would mix up spices, cook them over the stove, call me into the kitchen and say some chants and then throw the spices over my left shoulder. On the first day of Kindergarten I was sent to school with henna on my hands and feet for protection from the evil eye. Now days my daughter loves henna tattoos, but back in the early 1970's it was just weird and everyone thought I was a freak.

Dancing was the only time I ever felt happy since my Persian family's house was very depressing. My father was dying and no one accepted my mother into the family since she was not Persian so I felt so alone. My uncles were very abusive to us kids and I would run away in my dreams and my secret hiding places just to fantasize about dancing. The family allowed my mother to take me to her classes since they thought it was harmless at the time, but then hated the thought that she or I would dance in public. They assumed it was just for Americans so they allowed it, but not with any support. Each day my mother would come home from teaching her classes and hand my grandfather all her money.

My mother and I would sneak down to the basement to put our make up and costumes on and leave out the basement door to go to different performances. It was a dark basement with only one hanging light bulb and a small mirror the size of a post card. We didn't talk but just tried to hurry up and get ready in case the family would change their mind and not allow us to go. When we left the house I felt like I could breath freely for the first time. Dancing made me feel alive, shameless and fearless. My life had meaning and joy only while dancing. My mother and I shared this secret bond that was felt while we looked into each other's eyes. I know my mother felt the same as I did in her heart, which is why she brought me with her instead of leaving me home with the family. When we were done with a performance we would have to come back into the basement, take off our entire make up, put on our regular clothing and then come up the stairs and act like nothing happened. Not ever speaking a word of our day that had anything to do with dance. I think they felt that if we didn't talk about it then it didn't happen. But it was the only thing that gave me any strength in my life.

When I got older and was graduating from high school I was on the cover of Habibi magazine for the first time (I have done 3 covers), my family called me and told me how disappointed they were in my career choices. They felt I was disgracing my family name and the memory of my father (my father passed away in 1976 from a brain tumor). They stopped speaking to me and to this day I have no relationship with them.