Greetings!

It’s been so long since I’ve last talked to you! I’ve been studying and working around the clock, so I haven’t had much time to update things around here as I’d like. I’ll catch up soon enough, I promise!

Speaking of which, Menmar #1 is already available at Black Buffalo Publishing for purchase (Portuguese only)! There’s also a free preview availaible for those that didn’t read it when it was on Tapas, so be sure to get to know my pride and joy! The second and third volumes will hit the shelves in June-July, so stay tuned!

Now, let’s talk about this article’s main title – the International Dance Day. Very few people know this, but I used to be a bellydancer from 2013 to 2020. The reason I stopped back then was because I became quite disenchanted after both failing in a very important certification exam and falling out with my then mentor. My hiatus never meant to be permanent but the pandemic came, and I didn’t feel comfortable with taking online classes and remaning under the tutelage of the same teacher.

And so my live went on and I moved towards Culinary and I even worked in the industry for a few years (as I extensively documented in Brigadier Bits), but I’ve always felt drawn to bellydance – I’ve never stopped consuming it entirely. I always caught myself watching older videos from revered and celebrated bellydancers I liked, and I even transported the nostalgia to Menmar (you’ll know when you reach those chapters, I’m sure of it). Nevertheless, it wasn’t enough to completely appease my dancer side – and when I come to think of it, it would have never been enough.

In 2024, I had the opportunity to finally disclose my final grades of my failed exam – only to realize I didn’t get it for less than tenth of a point, which was disclosed to me by the current certificant school’s headmaster herself. That, aligned with all the positive written feedback I was finally able to read, sparkled something in me – I realized then my mourning period was finally over, and that I owed to myself and to my inner dancer to try again. I decided that, even studying to become a public servant, I’d go back dancing – and eventually, back to the stage.

In 2025, I went on to the person I considered to be my dance’s last hope – and luckily for me, she welcomed me with open arms and became my private teacher, coreographer, artistic director and friend. Like me, she’s also pursuing a public servant career to give her a more stable income, and so we also became partners in study.

With her, I began to look to my inner dancer; we began searching my strengths, weaknesses, my likes and dislikes. My teacher noticed how small my feet are for my body, and how wobbly my dancing stance felt because of it – and so she proposed I’d dance in heels. And so I did – and I stopped quivering on my high pointe.

Day by day, step by step, dance classes also became confessionaries. I feel as if I’m healing from wounds deeper than I thought I had. The dance floor gave me friendship in the most unexpected way – and I missed it so much.

Then, it rose the matter of my stage name; in bellydancing circles, especially for foreign dancers, it’s rather common to adopt an Arabic or Middle Eastern-esque stage name, so that you could keep the profession out of the personal life. I had never given a real thought to it prior to 2025; I had a few ideas, but nothing felt right.

That is, until I began working on Menmar – and so Farsi names caught my attention. One stood out in particular: Fairuz.

Fairuz means “jewel” or “treasure” in Persian; however, I still needed a surname, for there had already been a very famous Brazilian bellydancer under the name of Fairuz, and there was also a costume maker and seamstress with an atelier under that name.

Yesterday, my teacher came up with my inner dancer’s surname – Al Masriya, which means “The Egyptian (girl/woman)” in Arabic. It is rather fitting because most, if not all of my bellydance dancework is based on Egyptian bellydancers, and that’s the style my current teacher also favours the most. For some reason, though that was not my first option, the sound of that name feels one thousand percent right.

Fairuz Al Masriya. Fairuz, the Egyptian. My inner dancer. My bellydancer alias. Another part of me, which was nameless from 2013 to 2026.

Now, she has a name. She is complete. And we will be back on stage next year, I’m sure of it.

Kind Regards,
IridiumArt/ Fairuz Al Masriya.