There were neon lights, a big balloon arch and colorful cocktails. Waiters served mini eggrolls with plum sauce and blinis with caviar.This was at a party for a wealthy entrepreneurs’ wife’s fiftieth birthday. A good friend of my family’s at his restaurant on Long Island, Kpacho. Everyone was dressed to the nines in cocktail dresses, Louboutins and wrist icicles.The DJ was spinning Drake and Amr Diab (a prominent Arabic singer) and the atmosphere definitely warmed the cool March night.

While everyone was already drunk on Rosé or mingling at the chocolate fountain, the night was not complete until a little dance from a very scantily clad woman in sequins, a chiffon bra and matching pants and clam shakers. A red veil covered her face as she entered the party shimmying to the beat of Nancy Agram. Her gold chainmail belt swung to the gyrating and lively beat of the music. The bellydancer. A common Middle Eastern staple of parties and weddings that brought euphoria to the livelihood.The loophole to the sneaky culture of the Middle East that banned anything that showed to much skin. But no. It’s a cultural statement and part of the artistic Arabian heritage that should be celebrated and watched.

She came in dressed in red and gold flailing her arms around and dancing gracefully around the guests inviting them into her sacred dancing circle space with her intoxicating perfume and a gesture of her chiffon scarf. She wrapped it around the necks of horny and amused men, their drinks falling out their hands as their wives laughed hysterically and took pictures.The men, embarrassed yet drunk, started waving their hands to the sway of the music with big cheeky grins on their red faces.The men started throwing one dollar bills at the bellydancer, who didn’t seem to mind. The floor became trashed with cash but it wasn’t until the dance finished, that the men took all their dollar bills back.