My first ever act in 2009, Lullaby, was a commentary on the clashing of cultures: my Muslim heritage & upbringing, my burgeoning sexuality, and societal expectations about "good Muslims" or "good women". It was made during the height of the Burqa Ban controversy in Australia and elsewhere, and I was frustrated that nobody on any side of these ever decided to talk to the women wearing burqas about their own opinion. If they did, the women were presented as 2D models, never fully-fledged characters with their own complex identities and sexualities and spiritualities.
The concept of reverse-stripping into a Muslim outfit - the prayer outfit the first time, an actual burqa for subsequent versions - was itself inspired by the music video for Deeyah's What Will It Be?, another commentary on social expectations of Muslim women. In the video, Deeyah walks around in a burqa for most of it until the very end, where she strips off her burqa to reveal a bikini before diving into a pool. Deeyah received a lot of backlash from just about every side for that video - insulting Islam, or supporting a patriarchal religion, or other complaints. As a tribute to her, I chose another song of hers, Pashto Lullaby (a contemporary cover of a traditional Pashtun lullaby), to be the backing track.
The act, despite being my first ever solo burlesque piece, was an immediate hit. I garnered a lot of media attention during its debut and it was a strong favourite every time I performed it, mostly for its attention-grabbing ending but also due to the slow subtlety of the beginning. I received surprisingly few complaints; people across the board have generally been positive.
The piece eventually went into retirement when I faded out of burlesque - first from being exiled out of the Australian burlesque scene, then from being interested in other forms of performance while in the US. The core concept was reworked into Eclipse Dance Theater's production about mental health, Suicide's Requiem, in 2014. In that show, as the opener, my clothing is on a diagonal on the floor; I move slowly and creature-like through each clothing item as a narration of me talking about my struggles with mental health plays. The end item, instead of a burqa, is a red cloak, allowing me to embody the character of the Oracle - casting the circle, reading quotes about suicide, and coming back at the end with a sad fairytale-esque story.
I missed doing burlesque, but didn't miss the toxicity of the local scene; when I moved back to Melbourne I was very reluctant to perform again because I couldn't really trust very many people. One of the good people I did get to befriend, however, was Mama Alto , a queer gender-diverse person of colour jazz chanteuse whose work brims with social commentary. I saw that both she and the company she keeps were aware, interested, and passionate about diversity and inclusion in performance: if anybody was going to appreciate my work and my context, it'd be her.
When Mama Alto posted asking for volunteers to perform at her fundraiser for her album, I didn't think I had anything to perform at first. I was busy with Romeo is Not the Only Fruit and didn't have time to devise a new burlesque number.
Then I remembered Lullaby - and remembered that my original burqa was in a storage box in the US.
But I could always get one, couldn't I?
Without yet a burqa in hand, I told Mama Alto I'd do it.
Finding a replacement burqa turned out to be difficult - there were quite a few stores in Melbourne dedicated to Muslim fashion, but none of the ones I got to visit stocked burqas specifically. I had to make do with a replacement (I forget the name, but it's like an abaya with a scarf/hood sewed on). It wasn't as fluid and easy to wear as the burqa, but the effect still held.
I also wanted to have the song be more closely connected with my culture - which is new, because none of my other performance pieces have ever incorporated music that had anything to do with any part of my cultural heritage. I spent a lot of time trying to find both classical and fusion Bengali songs that would work, but was stymied by either low-quality audio, mismatching lyrics, the music not feeling right, or too much tabla.
I looked up various notable Bengali writers, such as Tagore and company, and stumbled onto the work of Kazi Nazrul Islam , Bangladeshi revolutionary poet and writer (the National Poet of Bangladesh, a country where language is the reason for its existence). I saw that he was a significant contributor to Shyama Sangeet , a genre of classical South Asian music that are devotionals to the Hindu goddess Kali. While Nazrul Islam is (as his name suggests) Muslim, he was very passionate about religious harmony and defeating bigotry, and found writing Shyama Sangeet to be a good method of community-building.
Kali and I have an interesting relationship. I only fairly recently accepted her claim of me after feeling like she'd been stalking me for years. I hadn't realised she was a huge fuckin' deal in Bengal until some recent research - the love Bengal has for Kali, above probably most other Hindu gods, is significant. She seems pretty much like the Mother Goddess of my people, part of my ancestral lineage (even if my family have been Muslims since the 15th century at least).
When I found this song, Kalo Meyer Payer Tolay (Under My Black Lady's Feet), I got immense chills. It was like a bright arrow coming from Kali (or at least the God-o-sphere) telling me this is the song you want, this is the song you will have for me. I was torn between a sung version and an instrumental Hawaiian guitar version - I wanted the words to be significant, but the instrumental had more of the vibe I was going for. Eventually I went with the instrumental by Gautam Dasgupta, though I would love to have a mashup someday.
I incorporated a lot of what I learned from prior iterations into the choreography of this piece. The creature-like moves from Suicide's Requiem, the more overt religious gestures from its debut, the confidence of eyeing the audience at the end and walking towards them as I would with the burqa on. I also switched around a few things: swapping the powder for eyeliner, making use of the mirror at Hares & Hyenas, drawing a symbol that represents Kali on me, high heels. Misdirecting people into thinking my outfit's just a red & black & white party getup until the final layer.
The song, like the act, like me, is multilayered. It's made up of parts that don't fit together, and yet somehow do. A devotional to Kali written by a Muslim man?! A burlesque act that's super sensual ending with the performer putting a hijab on and enjoying it?! A born and raised Muslim who doesn't really identify with the religion anymore but still has strong cultural ties to Islam and who is frustrated at Islamophobes, conservative Islamists, and everyone else speaking over general Muslims?! A burlesque act about Islam performed by a pseudo-ex-only-culturally-and-legally-Muslim with the soundtrack being a devotional to a Hindu goddess?!
How does any of this make sense?!
And yet, it makes perfect sense. Because the piece is about me, and about my truth, and about a truth that gets ignored because it's not convenient.
Mama Alto, too, is someone who understands speaking inconvenient truths. She understands boundary-crossing, label-defiance, transgression not out of superficial shock value but because your existence is already a transgression so just being you is transgressive. Her space was the perfect venue for the debut of this act, and for my return. I am forever grateful.
The video itself is shot by one of my dearest, closest friends Sebastian Edwards , who I met in Brisbane during the early days of our relative performance careers, though we didn't really become tight until I moved to Melbourne last year and reconnected with him. This was actually the first time we got to perform at the same event (he did some roving circus work and also auctioned off his handmade suspenders with amazing charm); it was such a treat to finally share the stage with a muse, confidant, collaborator, moirail, and all-round great friend. It's a bit shaky since it was on my phone (then again that's true for almost all my performance videos) but hopefully you get the gist!
Check out the video, and get thee some amazing jazz!