raqs sharqi—my first year of college. I had never taken a dance class before, but I had always enjoyed dancing at weddings and parties.
My academic adviser, who believed I needed a way to express myself that wouldn’t involve writing, signed me up for a class. I went to the first one self-conscious, aware of the ballerina in front of me who could lift her leg over her head.
When I first heard the drums, the zills and the distinct beat of dom-ka-tec-tec-a-boom-boom-tek, I started to move. The steps came naturally to me.
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