I recently witnessed a horrifying site while sharing the stage with another dancer. My first encounter with my fellow “professional” occurred when I finished my set. I went out into the hall and saw the dancer who would follow me. I went over to her to introduce myself and fill her in on the unusual set-up and the crowd. Her mouth was set in a hard line. She didn’t speak. She just shot daggers in my direction. She looked pretty young, so I chalked it up to youth or nerves.

Skanktana’s show had already started when I re-entered the hall. Her costume fit nicely and complimented her body and coloring. Her music was nice and she danced well for about fifteen minutes. Had she stopped there, I would have been impressed… but she didn’t.

Skanktana decided it would be a good idea to go out into the audience. Good choice. It was a lively crowd. They didn’t want to watch a show. They wanted to be the show. They liked it even more when she danced on their table. That’s when money started finding its way into her bra.

Now, I don’t know if you know this, but Virginia is a “no touch” state. Dancers are not allowed to have money put into their costumes, so it’s not a matter of personal taste or culture. It’s a matter of legality. But the cops seemed to be enjoying the show, and didn’t mind.

The next stop was my table. Skanktana made a big production of parting her hands to motion to the people at the table to move their belongings out of the way so that she could ascend. Her crotch and butt were now slightly higher than eye level as she jiggled in our faces. Her bra was now stuffed with bills. I think I got a picture of a woman with her hand deep into cleavage. I wanted evidence in case no one believed this incredible tale.

Skanktana moved to the next table and this is where the fun really started. She was simply lewd before. Now all she was lacking was a pole. She playfully rolled her stomach forward as if to say, “You want some of this,” She pulled back, and then offered it again, laughing the whole time. Despite the lack of room in her bra, she also continued to offer her chest, bending down so that her butt was in people’s faces, to receive the booty.

I have never been in a strip club, but my friend informed me that dancing on tables and taking tips in your costume is what strippers do. She said that the same moves that Skanktana was so proficient at were the ones that strippers use to tease their customers. I can’t say that I’ve ever seen those tricks performed in legitimate shows before so I lack the ability to describe them.

When the music ended, the crowd was just getting started, so they put on more music so that Skanktana could make the rounds. The evening’s host took her around, making sure that the guests all had a good time. Twenty minutes later it was done.

Skanktana was a hit alright. She had them all talking. A friend of mine was in the hallway getting a drink when the show ended. (She walked out in disgust about the time Skanktana got to the table next to ours.) One of the hotel employees asked her, “Is she finally done? It felt like she was dancing for an hour.”

I am sure that Skanktana judged her popularity by the “encore” call and by the money falling out of her costume, but she wasn’t there to hear what I heard or saw. The Egyptians sitting next to me, the same ones who were laughing, clapping, and stuffing money into her costume, said that she was “dirty” and “crossed the line.”

The table next to me that hooted and hollered so loudly made fun of her when Skanktana left. One guy handed his friends bills. He perched himself atop the table and began gyrating as his friends stuffed money into his open shirt.

I relate this story because a student of mine was with me at this performance. She asked, “Hasn’t anyone told Skanktana that she looks like a stripper? Hasn’t anyone clued her in to the tipping laws, culture, or simple decency?” I don’t know. I hope that Skanktana dances like that because she’s young and naďve. I hope that she’s doing that because she doesn’t know better. If no one has told her, I hope that she will read this and get a clue.

I also tell this story to vent my disgust. I have danced for Arabs my entire career. I have worked hard to cultivate a reputation of refined entertainment. This was a high profile event that was packed with Arabs outside of D.C. I had never danced here before and didn’t want these people to associate me with the vulgar display that they were treated to. Fortunately many people seemed to go out of their way to say things like, “I appreciated your dancing” and “You were very classy,” so Skanktana seems to have only made a reputation for herself among that crowd.

Still, the policemen and hotel employees quite likely have never seen a belly dancer before. When they think of hiring an entertainer for a party, are they going to be disappointed when she turns out to be just a belly dancer? “What? No tips in the bra? Come on!”

Once we start taking money for our services, we need to be very clear about what sort of service we are offering. If it’s exotic dance, call it what it is. If you want to use belly dance music and a costume to cater to a fantasy, I don’t even have a problem with that, but please don’t call yourself a belly dancer. When you do, you confuse the general public and make it hard for those of us who do not prostitute ourselves for tips and don’t welcome groping, pawing hands on our bodies.